The ArcherA Poem by Philip WardlowThe feeling of being an ArcherLeft arm extended and
locked, arrow drawn to cheek as fletching brushes two day
old stubble. Right elbow bent, pointed tight against quiver at back, tendons taunt with muscles
fixed. Pressure of braided
bowstring bites deep into calloused ruined
fingertips as they itch to release. Eyes forward, focused,
unwavering, towards a target who’s
heart will know the strength he holds at its
final beat. Steady….steady….Hold, Hold… Release…. Fly Free…Fly True…to find
death Draw again and repeat. By Philip Wardlow 2013 © 2013 Philip Wardlow |
StatsAuthorPhilip WardlowGrand Rapids, MIAboutI went back to college and took creative writing and english lit courses along with participating in several writing groups to hone my skills as a writer. I am into writing Horror stories, fantasy, .. more..Writing
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