Arrows

by Nevi   Jul 11, 2012


Maybe it was my marksmanship,
or the fact that every shot was one taken in the dark.
Perhaps the zephyrs were against me,
cuving their lithe, slender, swift bodies
against the fletching of my delicate desires.

Regardless of however true my intentions did fly,
Trepidation trembled in every pound,
No,
Ounce of each draw

From which I released, blindly, into the sun
and by which I would be pierced,
as with my own heart,

Arrows.

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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by Burning Angel

    I love this poem!

  • 3 years ago

    by Burning Angel

    This is amazing!

  • 5 years ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    Wow, really enjoyed this write Nevi! The imagery and the metaphor takes the reader in. That fear felt tangible, like while pulling back the arrow your heart took the fall. Brilliant job, keep writing :]

  • 5 years ago

    by Britt

    WHAT. Fix that!

  • 5 years ago

    by Britt

    AH a man of my own heart. This makes me want to go shoot my bow, haha.

    Love the metaphors here! Awesome job :)

    • 5 years ago

      by Nevi

      Ahaha. Thanks Britt! and yeah, I'd like to get out and shoot mine, but it's broken!!! :(

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