Poetry

[brianbfree]

The school where I teach is having a poetry contest for teachers and students. So I thought I would share my entry and see how may of you had somthing to contribute in the form of poetry.
Two Sticks and a String
By Brian Beery

Two sticks and string

Make a beautiful thing

The first is short narrow and thin

Made of wood, carbon or aluminum

Pointed in front and knocked in back

Bright feathers attached of red, yellow, and black.

The second is tall, limber and strong

Fifty-eight through sixty-six inches long

Hand crafted of rare curved wood with horn
To launch a stick the reason its born

The string connected to each end

The layered wood is forced to bend

Yielding its energy and strength to send

The short stick launching arching forward

With speed and purpose to its target forward

A kaleidoscope of fletching glistening in the sun

Its beauty reflected till its flight is done

[Mudd]

[njloco]

That's pretty neat !

[VA Elite]

"That common Place"

For every bowhunter has that place
you know the one, it brings a smile to your face

it may be up on that flat of oaks
or down by the water where the bullfrogs croak

you know that place
it brings a smile to your face

whether it be dawn or dusk
you know being there is a must

for some it's the right wind
others say if I go it could be the cardinal sin

but no matter, the thought always brings that grin

You know that place,
the one that puts the smile on your face

if we go, we all know what it could mean
It may be the only place we find our primal scream....you know the place, that common place

Landon Tucker

My best attempt off the top of my head...

[brianbfree]

Prety darn good VA

[Ron LaClair]

The Legacy ...by Ron LaClair

In days of old when Knights were slain
with iron tipped arrows through mail of chain
And Indians,.. on horseback who,...
shot buffalo, through and through.

The bow and arrow of days gone by
lives still today through you and I,
For every time we take a breath..
for every heart beat in our chest..

For every time we loose the string
to send the feathered shaft to wing..
We keep the spirit of the bow..
alive...so all today will know..

THIS is the kind of archery
passed down to us through history,
and It's up to us, you and I,
to keep this Legacy alive,

So teach a child to shoot a bow,
then watch the joy within him grow,
and someday when he is a man..
he'll surely pass it on again.

We share our love for archery
by passing on this Legacy
So even after we are gone....
the feathered shaft will still,
sing it's song.

[Ron LaClair]

The Love Of Archery by Ron LaClair

What is there about this simple thing that captivates us so

It's only a simple stick and string, it's only a simple bow


Is it the feel of the bow in your hand when you draw it to your face

using your strength to bend the limbs, sending the arrow on it's race


Is it the sight of the feathered shaft as it flys straight to it's mark

or is it the soft low hum of the bow that is music to your heart


Is it the sight of a white tail buck as seen over top of the shaft

Is it the thrill as you kneel by him and know he is your's at last.


Is it the Archers of long ago that speak to you still today

Is it the feelings that fill your heart when you hear what they have to say


It's all of this and even more, it's clear for all to see

It's the love we have for archery... the way it was meant to be.

[Ron LaClair]

The essence of archery by Ron LaClair

The stick and string will always be
the essence of true archery
a simple bow of wood or glass
with classic lines as in the past

arrows fletched with turkey wings
give voice to shafts and make them sing
There's something about the arrows arch
as it leaves the bow to find it's mark

it stirs the soul like nothing might
when eye and hand guide arrows flight
It's path is beauty to the eye
the thrill will linger til the next will fly

Who knows what stirs our passion so
this love to shoot a simple bow
we only know it's deep within
our very being, until life will end.

[VA Elite]

yeh I can't compete with that..  

[lablover]

I wrote the following for my uncle when he passed. I hope this is true

The last trip :  By Joe Rasico

My paddle dips as hard I pull and slip into the tide.
My quiver full of cedar shafts and bow lie by my side.
The sun lays still and cold and dark beyond the distant rise.
 As dreary world and mortal man I quickly leave behind.

  The simple things I’ll take along as into the past I slip
A simple bow of Osage wood, arrows of cedar split.
A woolen blanket to warm the night and rest my weary soul,
A coffee pot with dent and ding, blackened from hot coals.

The scent of Mt. Laurel, pine and larch will fragrance the air
As deep I breathe and with each stroke I shed my worldly cares.
This finale trip is more to me then size and number of the kill
 It’s time for me to face my lord and demonstrate old skills.

 With wooden bow and cedar shaft I’ll hunt high mountain glens,
 Where shadowed woods and waving grass will watch as wood bow bends.
I’ll  hear the call of friends long gone, come hunt like days of old
And roam once more those silent woods ablaze with autumn’s gold.

[Wannabe1]

Good stuff here!  

[brianbfree]

Well said by all of you I am pleased my challange was taken I am in awe of your words and the skill with which you use them.

[Kopper1013]

Very nice guys!! Ya'll are quite talented

               

These are all great!

Bisch

*Morning Sun*

Her bones from the East
Her soul from the West
Her maker, her father,
Her god does his best

He sees her, he knows her
His hands will not rest
Till her shape and her form
Are gracefully blessed

He burns her with fire
With heat he does make
Her will to submit
To his passionate bake.

He shapes her and chafes her
From history he forms
Tradition, the old way
The hard way she's born.

Many men seek her
Few of them find
Most of them clueless
Some even blind

Her virtue is soft
And graceful her lines
Only one man will hold her
She waits in no line

With whispers she greets them
With silence she sings
With blood they respond
Confusion she brings

Her master, her brother
His heart is on wings
He waits for her coming
and together they fling

The sun is undone
The day is diminished
The hunt has been won
The victory finished

The string has been dropped
The beast, made flight
The heart has been stopped
No matter his might

She has finished her job
And bent to his will
Together they go
There's no greater thrill

They made music together
Combined stillness with will
Their quarry lay still
On the side of the hill

[Longbow58]

Man I'm not much of a poet, but really enjoying reading these. Great job guys!

[Ron LaClair]

DREAMS FROM ANOTHER LIFE by Ron LaClair

I dream of days so long ago

when a mans companion was his bow

Then men and bow would act as one

sending clouds of arrows that blocked the sun

The iron tipped shafts piercing mail of chain

making horses scream from the arrows pain

The heavy points of the clothyard shaft

spilled rivers of blood in the wheatfields chaff

Gallant French Knights to war did go

seeking glory in battle with their foe

Expecting a fight that was toe to toe

they were killed from afar by the mighty Longbow

These dreams are clear as they can be

5000 archers including me

stood side by side with deadly retort

that day at the battle of Agincourt

[Ron LaClair]

This is actually lyrics to a song I wrote
"Memories of yesterday"

Yesterday, when I was young
there were so many bows
just waiting to be strung

so many feathered shafts
to send upon the wind
I never thought the time
for that would ever end

A thousand hunts I planned,
I dreamed they'd be so grand
but some just slipped away
like weak and shifting sand

I never seemed to have
the time to make them real
now late in life it seems
I've lost some of my zeal.

Yesterday, when I was young
the hills I climbed were steep,
but I crested on the run

now it seems the valleys
are where I prefer to be
my legs are old, no longer
do they want to carry me.

Youth and strength it seemed
could conquer anything
no challenge left untried,
no bow I couldn't string

I gave no thought to what
the future held for me
I only knew that arrows
on the wind would set me free.

Now Yesterday, has past me by
but I still like to watch
my arrows as they fly

the bows I shoot are not
as heavy as before
and I don't shoot them
quite as often anymore

Those hunts of years gone by
though they're in the past
I have such sweet memories,
and those memories will last

So I can relive again,
those Golden times back when
back when,... I was young

[britt]

Very nice words.

[swamper]

Great reads here..