"archery" poems
XXVII. TO ARTEMIS (22 lines)
(ll. 1-20) I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who
cheers on the hounds, the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who
delights in archery, own sister to Apollo with the golden sword.
Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow,
rejoicing in the chase, and sends out grievous shafts. The tops
of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes
awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earthquakes and the sea also
where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart turns
every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is
satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights
in arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of
her dear brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi,
there to order the lovely dance of the Muses and Graces. There
she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads
the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their
heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto bare children
supreme among the immortals both in thought and in deed.
(ll. 21-22) Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired Leto!
And now I will remember you and another song also.
21.3k
I pulled down vicious KKK flyers,
listened to members amplify hate.
Their harmful words only frustrate,
hoping to cease their cruel desires.
Harassment at work occurred
hablas ingles? a lady replied.
I let the racist remark subside,
when I realized I was not heard.
Being bullied at school would soon follow.
A boy shout the Spanish slur at me,
write vile notes for all to see.
Slashed my tires with archery arrows.
I never thought that they would presume,
I was an illegal immigrant.
Their logic absent,
only based on looks they assume.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:59 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
Drona was a great teacher of archery
He taught it to Pandavas and kauravas
Arjuna was his favourite disciple
He liked him for his pious principle
Drona promised to make him the best
In any form of archery test
One day A tribal came to Drona
And requested him to teach the craft
The master asked him for his caste
The tribal revealed the fact
Drona told him he would teach only the upper-caste
And leave the place in great haste
The Tribal,Ekalavya, Made an idol of his master
And became an invincible archer
Drona and Arjuna came to the forest
The former considered the tribal was the best
Drona asked for the tribal’s master
And surprised to find the answer
And demanded his right thumb as a gift
Ekalavya offered it as a token of great respect
Jan 4, 2011
Jan 4, 2011 at 5:57 PM UTC
Here is a poem
To a boy or a girl
A specific archer
Or maybe a plain Sport player
What is love?
Is it everyone must have?
In different thoughts
And different genre,
How can I explain?
How do I begin?
In the Archery of Love
There’s a bow and an arrow we must have
And here’s the target face
A mind and soul based
In this game you choose
To be the Archer
Or the target face
When your lover is the Archer
He / She can hit you
Bull’s eye!
The feeling of love
Can already make you fly.
But remember
Archery is a game
At the end
He / She will get the arrow
That hit you awhile ago
You can feel the pain
It’s end of the game
Archery of Love is just a game
So stop crying
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
she texted 'I dreamt of you this afternoon'
which was a promising start
'you were a paintball instructor...
and you shot me in the heart'
now - I'd never dreamed of her
(and thought that even worse)
I wondered if I should mention it
or just write it down in verse
but, that very night,
dreaming in the solace of the dark
I took part in her archery class
and she shot cupids arrow through my heart
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 3:53 AM UTC
Why meander around the subject?
All the roads lead to the same outcome
All the chit chat & the cut-up laughter
Isn't really necessary
When I know that in your eye
I'm just a desirable target
Aim
Fire
Miss
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC
A poet's supposed to only post poetry
If I try to do anything different under a pseudonym
They'd know it's me
They're not too dim
To shine a light on similarity
Between two varying laugh tracks despite all the hilarity
Been getting down to brass tax with a microscope
I could read the fine print even if both my eyes were closed
So tie the rope tightly around your own necks
As I work far outside of my trajectory from how I make the bow flex
If I was Archie mixed with Cupid
I would
Follow an arrows arc like an archery marksman whose targets are Betty and Veronica's beating hearts
And when they get hit,
They both fall pretty hard
And meet me in my back yard where I get their backs archin'
Point is, I've got precision aim
When I'm shooting for emotions
Make you never feel a thing
Make you clear minded and focused
Let you all in on my pain
Have you buzzin' like a locust
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
it's as if you shot an arrow
through the glass cupboard
of my heart.
as if my arteries were handles
to the china cups and mugs
that shattered into a violent
destruction, devastation
of your target,
which was me.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
“Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
“The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
“Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
“You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
“Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”
And they said: If a man commit ******
Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
He should hide him.
And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
“In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
“be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
“blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
4.6k
Right now, loving you feels
the way my toes do when stepping on pebbles
(the stones they put on your back in physical therapy)
or mining ore -
supposed to be cold, but extremely hot to touch.
A copper meadow
shimmy into a tree so you can look up my dress
and catch me like gold armor when I tumble, tumble.
One defense, two defense, three defense, four
worms with spines as soft as hair
try to spindle cobwebs where we skip and hopscotch
skeletons dunk our heads in some sea
but pickaxes
make air pockets, iron is a pillow for us to sleep.
The lights cease when you leave
no longer nearby is the helmet that exudes site -
I think I could mine meteorite from your soul, there’s
only demonite in my own.
Let’s build a house with it
then wait for the bad men to leave, it is night again
perhaps they shall be burned by my evil.
Shrouded in wood, tucked into a golden chest
the walls are a deep purple
amethyst, aubergine, build our ceiling some citrine -
bunnies swallow the window frame
and I cry because somehow it is my fault,
I try to jump but I fall. And you open the door, you let
in some monsters, how I hate you for a moment.
But no bad man can get you
even ones who have skin sunken like a dead spider
pull out an archery kit
seventy-seven arrows, I put them all in hearts
leaving one special hook for you Cupid gave to me.
We make a great team
demonite meteorite silver copper topaz gold-tipped
and sterling the vultures listen in jealously
knowing this is what love can feel like right now.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
Heart's alive.
Help me please.
This is a disaster, you see.
It's not suppose to be like this,
You and me.
It doesn't exists.
And I'm trying to resist
I cannot believe this.
I think I am crazy.
But honestly,
what can I do?
Do you think this way too?
Maybe.
But God only knows.
And God won't tell me.
I won't ask.
But I do miss you.
Maybe tonight I'll get high.
I'll escape to the sky.
Far away from earth,
far away from these thoughts.
This time,
I won't get shot down.
The arrows are aiming.
but I have a shield.
You and me.
It doesn't exist.
Heart's alive.
Arrow pierced me.
I wasn't looking.
Now I'm falling.
Tell me this isn't happening.
Again...
Heart's alive.
Help me please.
I'm falling.
This is a disaster you see.
It's not my fault...
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
Lets have rough ***
in the courtyard of our kingdom
while the peasants and jester watch.
"Is that the king?"
"Yes. Both of them,
**** Did he just hit h~?"
"Yup. That was a moan."
Pan flutes.
Lutes.
purple green and gold garb.
There's a bunch of knights training in archery
and somebody in a far corner of some ocean
plotting to ride their horses here and declare seige.
But right now
it's the first of may
and we're just throwing each other around on the grass
under the flag of our castle
that we founded on voyeurism and being good at what we do
Which today is rough ***
In the grass
Of a game of thrones set.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
My sister is a quarterback
I rarely catch a pass
and she can run a marathon
I soon run out of gas
she pitches for her baseball team
I pop up on her curve
and she's an ace at tennis
I can't return her serve
My sister dunks the basketball
I dribble like a mule
she swims like a torpedo
I flounder in the pool
she's accurate at archery
I hardly ever score
She wrestles and she boxers
I wind up on the floor
My sister catches lots of fish
I haven't had any luck
she's captain of her hockey team
I can't control the puck
her bowling's are unbelievable
I bowl like a buffoon
she says someday I'll start to win...
I hope someday is soon
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
I’m two guys deep
Since you.
And I’m sitting here with your taste in my mouth
The taste of smoke and strawberries
The taste of the time we spent the whole day
Learning each other’s touch.
I can still taste you
Lingering under my dry mouth of regret.
I’m two guys deep
And neither of them have understood what I need.
That I need you.
I am tasting the salt of my tears.
I am two guys deep
And I still trace the pattern of the bruises I got from archery together
I can still taste the time we made out to Sharknado 2.
I am tasting my regret.
I am tasting the tightness in my throat.
I am tasting you
I am still tasting you not tasting me anymore
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
In the great scheme of life, many choices you make,
Where to work, who to date, your yard when to rake.
The game of hearts is not quite the same,
Who you love and end up with, is all based on aim.
Yes Cupids aim, is sometimes not good,
Dam arrow it lands, in many a strange hood.
Once per chance the target is hit,
They may be charming, attractive and full of wit.
Only the lucky lovers get this type of win,
The arrow is known to bring pain, shame and sin.
Never knowing what's in store for you,
Loving arms and a partner that’s true,
Or an unfaithful idiot, to make you feel blue.
You may think you scored, they look smokin' hot,
Having *** day and night, you love them a lot.
This sounds pretty awesome, is there a down side?
Not unless you count secrets, and the lovers he hides.
The girl that finds sales, and will spend all your cash,
She goes out on black Friday, doing the fifty yard dash.
Coming home the next day, a smile on her face,
I saved money here, and there, and this place!
What she fails to tell you, is your fresh out of money,
Say something about it, she'll resign as your honey.
The men are no better, their tempers get hot,
Slobs and the lazy, and the ones that smoke ***
One time in the game, Cupid seemed to shoot straight,
He gave me a lover, to see I couldn’t wait.
We had some good times, but the end is the same,
Bad excuses, feelings hurt, another to tame.
Please freakin' Cupid, have a talk with William Tell,
Take an archery lesson, or your bow I will sell.
You keep making me fall, for the wrong type of mate,
Just want a good friend, not a women to hate.
Visit poemsbypaul.com
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Little Red Riding Hood
a name given to thee
loved helping her mom with chores
and one day to run an errand for her
Put on her red hood ,
a basket in her hand
and off she went into the familiar woods
while Picking up berries she heard a roar
Quickly she ran to her granny's door
Poor granny was on her bed
Amused... Red Riding Hood quickly came closer and said
Suspiciously....
"What a big pair of eyes you have grandma"
"What a big nose you have grandma"
"What a big pair of ears you have grandma"
"What a furry big thing you are grandma"
But grandma was too sick to answer...
Her suspicion grew stronger
It wasn't her grandma lying on the bed
Pretended to be sick but salivating for her crazily
Her breathing was heavy,
her howling could almost be heard
What a tricky big beast!
Carefully she took her bow and arrow from her basket
and shot her cunning wolf granny in the heart
Hurriedly she opened the closet
Granny was safe , granny was still alive
Little Red Riding Hood hugged and kissed her
and thanked her real granny
for the archery lessons she gave her...
sharpened her mind
shooting her target
saving a life
saved her granny's life
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 5:04 AM UTC
Let's get one thing clear: When people say "You're all I've ever wanted", they're lying.
I want many things. I want a pizza. I want to get an A for a paper I hardly studied for. I want a room with wooden floors. I want a house facing the sea. I want to walk into Forever 21 and take home anything I like. I want to travel around the world. I want to be better at sports. I want my ulcer gone immediately. I want longer eyelashes. I want to finish an entire season of a tv show without anyone bothering me. I want more followers on Twitter. I want to be friends with my favorite Youtuber. I want a pair of twin boys. I want Hogwarts to be real. I want to be good at archery like Katniss-freaking-Everdeen, cause it's so ******* cool. I want a new phone. I want to sleep late watching chick flicks without having to worry about sleep deprivation. I want three hamsters. I want superpowers. I want to fly.
But you see, here's the catch: What I want most, is you.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
Like an arrow from Cupid
making some people stupid,
Age comes a calling
but no one is falling in
love.
Though age be a temptress,
relentless,
it creaks up on me
to sneak up on me,
always cruising for a bruising
it uses up time.
Never get old I was told,
useless advice,
when our days
are as written, on
one grain of rice.
It holds me spellbound in
its withering looks
creeps into my skin and
paints wrinkles therein and
therein or thereon
lies the tale.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
I took the words you threw at me
Stuffed them in a bag made of leather
Shook them up
Then spilled them across the page like bones
I studied them in random order
In hopes that I could read my future there
Chanting nonsense
Like an old time painted shaman
The more I looked the more I began to see
That they were after all just words
Hurled against me like weapons
From your archery mouth
So I let them drip from me
Like rain water
Crashing to the lonely street below
Where I walked away from them.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
Boys don't like girls like me
Boys don't like girls
With frizzy hair
And red velvet tongues
Boys don't like girls
Who wear heavy boots
And leather jackets a size too big
With pins pushed through the fabric
Declaring their beliefs
Like picket signs
Boys don't like girls
With outie belly buttons
Boys don't like girls
Who shop in the men's section
At thrift stores
Boys don't like girls
Who shut themselves in ivory towers
And refuse to let down their hair
Because they're too afraid
Boys don't like girls
Who talk to plants
Boys don't like girls
Who pick the pickles off
Of their cheeseburger because
They believe its the best part
And you always save the best for last
Boys don't like girls
Who carry trauma on their backs like boulders
Boys don't like girls
Who don't know how to kiss
Without leaving
Blood stains on your lips
Boys don't like girls
Who write love poems for themselves
Who practice archery and witchcraft
Because it makes them feel stronger
Who dance in their kitchen
To the music of popping popcorn
Who shy away from touch
Because to them it feels like acid
Who have stretch marks and cellulite
Who'd rather stay at home with the dog
Than go to that party
Who have ice in their soul
Boys don't like girls like me
And I'm trying to be ok with that
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
My luck with the arrow
Is not my love for the bow
When you lay down beside
And are arching like so
There is what we release
And what we will hold
We won’t even have to look
At where the arrow will go
Because we’ll know
(c) 2015
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
A student of mine sat on the steps
Clenched, clammy, and bulging with strained strength
Periodically overcome by shadows of pathology
This night he begged for help through gaps of cyclical consciousness
A funeral trail for clarity ambled solemnly to the gymnasium
He was surrounded, and they plotted, and advanced, and he was engulfed
They were upon him like a ****** seeking seed or vulture carrion
He seized on an arched back and suffered under octodemons
On that hard wood floor under dead bulbs that swung like momentous pendulums
My student transformed into a tiger leaking rage from rusty cage
Explained in eloquent detail and prophetic tone his will to ****
Blacking out to full extent
He was amygdala, he was instinct
Battling grown poachers until they stole his fearsome fangs
Clipped his claws, and painted over his stripes with calm
When contained, vicious umbra cat turned tranquil
We sat circular and played lobster ball pass with our toes
And talked about buses to New York
His mother taught him to be a songbird
While the streets moved his feet
Goodnight Archery, we hugged
I wonder how he's
Breathing
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
Wishing I could live in a fairytale land
Where singing my feelings
Would be a common feat;
Dancing through the streets,
Meeting my soul mate
Knowing that we were forever.
Feeling enchanted and believing
In magic; these are the things
My heart sincerely desires.
I don’t want to settle for the mundane
Seemingly normal life,
That everyone robotically lives.
I want to traverse the ocean,
Experiencing the wonders
Of art and ancient civilizations.
I want to believe in pixies.
Believing the stories of gypsies
That traveled spewing tales of magic.
I want to live on Middle Earth
Where there are many types of “human”
Including the one I grew up to be.
I want to be an elf that lives forever
And is exceptionally good at archery;
With a dwarf for a best friend.
I want to believe in Greek gods
With their magic and the powers
They hold in everything.
My heart longs for so much more.
I’m afraid that this world
Won’t be able to offer it to me.
This world seems broken
Beyond the ability to repair.
It’s too scientific.
I’m afraid that all the magic
That is left, is just that;
Empty fairytales.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:55 PM 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