The Archer

Retirement has given me the opportunity to revisit some of the things that gave me pleasure as a boy. Three weeks ago I started an archery course with my local club, one of the results is below.

The Archer.

I stepped up to the line today,
placed both my feet astride.
I stood, side on, with others
taking stance on either side.
They looked to me proficient,
to them, I was untried.

I breathed in deep and focused.
I calmed myself inside,
remembered the instruction
given by my coach and guide
and in my hand it felt that time
itself was brushed aside.

I raised my arm up to full stretch,
once more I held a bow
but not of rough barked Hazel
hacked from the old hedgerow,
and strung with orange bailer twine,
of many years ago.

I drew my hand back to my mouth
my muscles all stretched tight
I loosed the string and waited…
I watched the arrow’s flight.
I heard the thud as it went home,
It filled me with delight.

It wasn’t gold, not this time,
It went a little wide.
But out of all proportion,
was the joy it did provide.
Again I am an archer,
and in that I take a pride.

Tags: Archery, Creative writing, Odd Odes, Poems, Poetry, Poetry Blog, The Archer, Writing