#archery
I tell you
My name is William Cupid
I see that apple in your eye
Have no fear my dear
off the rack
I'll nock
pull back
and let these arrows fly
Aug 10, 2023
Aug 10, 2023 at 10:02 PM UTC
An arrow flying through the sky
does it hit it's mark, as it passes by
just like a shooting star
such grace and beauty
who was the archer
did he shoot for pleasure, or duty
But never will we know
for the body is so slow
compared to the speed
of a fast-moving arrow
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 1:29 PM UTC
(man enters a tavern)
I'd like a room and a bath please
(tavern keeper)
a room I can do, but, a bath, totally out of the question
(man)
your sign says "rooms with baths", and I would like a room with a bath, as advertised
(tk)
you aren't from around here are you?
(man)
no, why?
(tk)
I thought not, so, I will say this slow...A room I can do, but a bath is totally out of the question
(man)
there is no need to take that tone with me. I made a perfectly legitimate request, as per your signage, and you take umbrage with me.
(tk)
I did not, and besides, I can't take it, if I don't know what it is. Hold on one minute....(walks outside, grabs a shovel on the way out...knocks sign down).
(tk)
(upon re-entry)....now, about that sign you said you saw. I believe you were mistaken.
(man)
this is the "three rivers tavern" as per the sign, which I assume is no longer hanging out front.
(tk)
It is, and your assumption is correct...it isn't
(man)
so, being the "three rivers tavern" would there not be three rivers in the proximity of this establishment from which you would be able to draw water for me, a bypasser, to get a bath
(tk)
yes...and no
(man)
what kind of an answer is that?
(tk)
Yes, it is the "three rivers tavern" and no, there are not three rivers in close proximity of this establishment from which I, a humble tavern keeper, and former owner of a sign, advertising, falesly, I might add...the presence of a bath in this establishment.
(man)
you are called "three rivers tavern" yet, there are no rivers nearby.? what kind of advertising is that?
(tk)
firstly, the sign was already made up, so, it was cheap. Secondly, who are you to question the name of my establishment, which I might add, is quite famous in the region for many things, other than it's name, which, we may now be changing due to the sudden loss of our sign.
(man)
I sir, am Robin Hood of Sherwood.
(tk)
your'e not
(man)
I am. I am Robin Hood, Sir Robin of Loxley, if you please.
(tk)
I repeat...you're not. Not in those tights.
(man)
And what is wrong with my tights?
(tk)
Seriously? Do I really have to tell you that?
(man)
Yes, what is wrong with these tights?
(tk)
First off, Robin Hood, The REAL Robin Hood wouldn't be caught dead in those. Baggy, Saggy, there's leaves on them, holes...Robin Hood would have nice tight tights that were in good kip and accentuated his....
(man)
********
(tk)
exactly
(man)
No, I mean, how would you know what Robin Hood would wear? I mean, what I would wear? The condition of these tights helps me keep incognito in local archery competitions. If I went around showing ...
(tk)
******** INCOGNITO? You are no more than a wayward traveller trying to get a free room on the reputation of someone else, namely...Robin Hood
(man)
My good sir, these are old, tights, ripped from swinging through the trees over time.
(tk)
If you are Robin Hood, tights or not...prove it to me. I'll give you the room, and go for the water myself.
(man)
How should I prove it, with no arrows, bow, and apparently no weaponry in sight. How do I go about showing I am Robin Hood?
(tk)
Use mine. Yep...use my bow, and I dare you to...to...shoot an apple off of his head over there. Oy....wake up. Catch (tosses an apple to man in the corner)
Put that on your head...he's gonna shoot it off.
(man in corner)
He's gonna what? off my...no he's not.
(man)
No, I will not. You obviously have me confused with William Tell. He's Swiss, they do things differently over there.
(tk)
You will, or you won't get your room
(man)
And if I should miss, what then?
(tk)
Not a problem. I've got lots of arrows and apples. We can just keep trying.
(man)
I mean HIM, what if I hit HIM.?
(tk)
You won't if you are who you say you are, and besides, I said I've got lots.
(man in corner)
But I'm your brother in law
(tk)
I've lots of those too. Now, here (hands arrow and bow to Robin)
Step back 10 paces, I'll open the door, and you....put that apple up.
One shot...hit the apple,....room and a bath....miss, and it's off with you
(man)
I really don't think...
(tk)
shoot or leave. Or...I can call the sherrif. If you are Robin Hood, he'll certainly want to see you.
(man)
Fine, give me those. (walks back 10 paces as the tavern owner opens the door).
(He fires, splitting the arrow in two, as the man in the corner slides to the floor)
(tk)
ROBIN!!!! Why didn't you say so? I knew it was you all the time. What can I do for you?
(Robin)
First, pick him up. Next that room. Then I have some requirements, that I need not be tested on. A bow, arrows, clothing, footwear. I need to look the part at the tournament coming up, when I do the big reveal, and I need the proper equipment. You, will help me with that, and seeing as how I have little to no money, as I said, I will need to put this on account which I will pay after the tournament.
(tk)
credit? You want credit?
(Robin)
Yes, as you can see, I am good for it.
(tk)
I saw you shoot an apple off a mans head from ten paces, not...win an archery competition with archers from all over Europe. CREDIT?
(Robin)
Here, hold this apple.
(tk)
Right, First things first...bow and arrows!!
(Robin)
I shall need to see the fletcher.
(tk)
that would be baker
(Robin)
No, I need a bow and arrows. I need a fletcher
(tk)
Exactly, Baker
(Robin)
I am at a loss. I need to see a fletcher and yet you keep saying Baker
(tk)
Right, The Fletcher is Baker. That's the man's name. You need to see Baker, the fletcher.
(Robin)
I see....I think. So I see the baker.
(tk)
You see the fletcher
(Robin)
Baker
(tk)
exactly
(Robin)
that's what I said.
(tk)
No,you said the baker
(Robin)
That's what you told me.
(tk)
No, I did not. I said The Fletcher was Baker. That's the mans name
(Robin)
Baker
(tk)
Now,you have it
(Robin)
Assuming I get what I need from the fletcher. I need a tailor.
(tk)
pastor
(Robin)
No, I do not need to see a pastor, I need a tailor
(tk)
That's the man's name. Pastor is the tailor
(Robin)
So, the pastor is the tailor
(tk)
No, Cooper is the pastor, pastor is the tailor.
(Robin)
I don't need a cooper, I need the tailor
(tk)
exactly. pastor
(Robin)
So, let me see...I go to see the pastor and the fletcher
(tk)
No, you see the tailor, pastor and then the fletcher
(Robin)
The Baker.
(tk)
Listen closely, or you'll never get your room. You see Baker the Fletcher and Pastor, the tailor. Not, the baker and the pastor. You keep getting mixed up
(Robin)
I'll need to write this down
Ok, for footwear, Cobbler
(tk)
Butcher
(Robin)
The butcher makes shoes too.?
(tk)
No. Butcher is the cobbler
(Robin)
That's what I said
(tk)
Look, it's dead easy, you go to see Baker, Pastor and Butcher and you'll be set
(Robin)
I'll end up with bread , a bible and meat. How does this help me in an archery competition?
(tk)
No...you see baker the fletcher, pastor the tailor and butcher the cobbler. It couldn't get any simpler
(Robin)
Maybe I don't need that room after all.
(tk)
follow...fletcher baker pastor tailor butcher cobbler. then back here.
(Robin)
No...I think maybe....is there another village close by.
(tk)
Yes, on the other side of the three bridges
(Robin)
Which, as we know, do not exist
(tk)
And...they speak Welsh!!! your choice
fade out
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 6:25 PM UTC
Capture my love with a harp and a bow
Sing high for my heart
but to shoot me, aim low.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
Depth doesn't scare her.
In fact, it's the one thing she looks for in almost everything.
She was a swimmer, one who floated face-up in deep waters-- in the pool, sea, and metaphorically, life.
Depth to her, was a symbol of freedom and significance.
She wasn't afraid of it or getting lost in it. If she let the tides carry her of their will and to the shore, she knows she wouldn't drown. In the end, she was at home in waters and their uncertain depths. She didn't always need to see the bottom or what is waiting for her. This was life to her.
The same applies to the winds of the night sky, where she was a light cloud with a fleeting presence. She would be here today, and the next moment she would be gone with the wind, swept up in the dark skies above, far off into the deep atmosphere.
All the more has she fallen deep for this certain person in her life, a descendant of Orion.
His eyes were as bright as Betelgeuse and were deeper than the darkest parts of the ocean. ****** into the whirlpools of his eyes, and into the windows of his soul, did she get a glimpse of how he was like.
She would give anything in exchange for a long soak: she was deep in her love for him.
On afternoons she finished her swimming regimen in the sea and headed to the hilltop sports complex before sundown.
There, she watched him shoot arrows with his long bow embraced by his long arms. His deft fingers positioned to hold the arrow in place, and she almost felt her heart stop like the way a criminal froze in surrender before a policeman pointing a gun at him.
Only in her case, he wasn't a policeman nor was she a criminal (unless watching him without him knowing would be considered stalking, therefore an offense), he held a bow, not a gun and that he was not aiming at her.
But the way his slender body heaved with every deep breath spurred a similar memory in her: steady, balanced and clear as the skies above and the waters beneath her body and surf board.
Just before the board and her arms slice through the water's surface tension; just before he releases the arrow which pierces through the light air around him. Staying still for so long to get the perfect posture puts a pressure on one's body. To see him let go with one eye shut for focus was a relieving sight to her.
She knew that familiar tension and expectation that surrounded him.
To her, watching him was like star gazing as always; he was, after all what she called a "descendant of Orion". He was the only thing she saw so bright and clear in that dim archery room and only the sunset casted soft shadows on his face.
She wondered if he would ever find out about the way she felt for him. Every time an arrow slipped through his fingers faster than a time-slip, she felt as if a part of him departed along with it.
Why was it so, she thought, that it seems like I'm loving the impossible; a night dream which won't be carried off and fulfilled by dawn? As if he was a dream too deep in my sea of memories, anchored to the bottom of improbability and unable to rise to the surface to make itself known to him.
A fresh salty breeze filled the air. This happened whenever the winds blew over the waves or when she didn't notice her own tears fall.
His life had a sense of leaving in it. It was either the way his arrows left him and his bow or when he left the sports complex; and in the future, leaves the town and leaves her life. It was more than decided that he was bound to leave the place and head back to the metropolis where he came from.
He belonged to the city of bright lights.
Nothing can ever compare to the way he shines, though, she said to no one but the winds and waves that build up her life.
He was a rocket fueled for takeoff. Ready anytime to leave, to return to the sky, back in the home of the stars.
And she was a mere girl who sought depth in her life:
the water, the sky,
their existence and his eyes.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 4:38 AM UTC
Knock to field point
carbon fiber weave
two blue and one white fletch
core muscles engaged
Pulled back on a string
cams broken over
energy ready to be freed
peering through black peep
Fiber optic pins
glow in the sun
judge the right distance
pick the right one
Finger on the trigger
let the arrow fly
watch it home
ten ring, target, good shot
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
Archers stance, breath held
Sighting along the arrow
The calm then the storm
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
Apollo, Apollo
The God of poetry
I'd also like to learn archery
And a song or two
On the lyre from you
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Light weight, black glossy, perfection
You must hold such a weapon with confidence
Slender black arrows with green feathers
Bundled in the fine homemade black leather quiver
The silver steel tips made to ****
Sunlight playing peak a boo
With the shadows all around you
The ancient trees look down upon you
The wind picks up and gently plays with your hair
You breathe in the familiar smell
Of the ancient forest you call home
You haven't caught an a-wi in days
What will the hungry little ones do?
You see a flash of movement and you freeze
Draw a single arrow from the quiver on your back
Without a sound you take your position
Silently with practiced ease you aim and fire
You hear the death cry of the animal you have shot
Swiftly you run to were the cry came
There lays the plumpest most beautiful a-wi you have seen in moons
Thanking the a-wi with the words you were taught as a child
"Thank you dear sister/brother for giving your life so that my family could continue to live theirs"
With the sacred whisper you end the a-wi's pain with a quick slice from your blade
Smiling and whispering you’re thanks to the Great Spirit
You run as fast as you can to get the villages warrior braves
You are small but you are part of the Tsa-la-gi
Therefore you are never alone
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
I dream of the perfect
Man of Native blood
With hair to his shoulders
And skin tan as natural leather
I thought he didn't exist
Until I met him in a store
He was my dream man
Everything I ever wanted
I know only of his heritage
For that is what we discussed
We talked about tradition
And how most of it is lost
He kept my focus which is hard to do
He made me feel accepted,
Which is even a harder feat
With his Native looks and attitude
I couldn't help but fall a little
But it was just a conversation
About Native American things
And whole lot of talk about archery
I hope the world ends someday
So that I can go to the blue mountains
And find my native man
He made a promise that few would make to a stranger
He promised if the world ended
Like we both know it will
He would meet me in the Blue Mountains
And make sure I'd survive
Who makes a promise like that anyway?
Certainty not anyone I know
For everyone cares about themselves
And forget the unmade friend..
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Master archer
Lars Andersen
Fires with such accuracy and speed
It is truly amazing!
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
what is more gentle,
than this pillow of the light?
a life narrowing,
in a bright feather dance
that sweeps across the sea
or covers our faces in shadows.
where do you go when you leave me?
now I am nocturnal,
a bliss bandit,
cooing at stars
one thousand miles high.
shaking like a tea kettle,
I am the black *** black,
shaking,
shivering.
Swallowing pieces of your light,
in the back-room jungle where I sew,
tears to the bottoms of my eyes,
where no one ever goes.
I know days,
hours,
one minute
where I gambled time
and stood behind you
with my fingers
on your shoulders
and my mouth on your neck.
What it takes to be apart,
split in half,
shucked from birth;
it takes every thing I
ever owned,
every note I ever sang,
each breath that I will make-
some thought I stand up on,
my knees quivering below me.
five kinds of drugs
just to see straight, to hold
my hands steady or
sleep at night.
your lavender flavor
is still in me.
you in me.
one.
two.
soaking in this forgotten city,
Earth's heroes drifting away.
I could never eat again, or
cast a spell, or touch the same.
while burning I may never
stand
on these same two feet again.
four years,
a photograph.
one voice,
softening into my skin,
that I never may forget.
that this beard is of
an old man, should I never
count again
blessings or songs.
I dive into the flame
and study this journey backwards.
so I should never forget,
everything so serious
as this
as you, in me.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Stepping out into the yard,
my curvéd bow strung tight.
Thereupon my driveway,
three blackbirds share the light.
The moment is opportune,
it must be now, do or die.
I've got thoughts of my belly
filled with hearty blackbird pie.
"What did they ever do to you?
They're not a threat in the least."
Yet should I die in my own yard,
they'd pick me for the feast.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 2:09 PM UTC