The target ranged at 100 yards,
The bow, strung ready to yield,
The power entrusted in its pull,
Sends the arrows down the field.
...
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A well-crafted poem, Ernestine, on a fascinating subject. This brings back memories from high school; how I wish we'd devoted more time to the sport! Thank you for a wonderful write! Esther : ]
My husband was a bowman. He was an avid hunter but felt the animals needed a chance against the hunter, even the score so to say. He always hunted with a bow on the ground and delighted in the chase in trying to bring down his moving target. Excellent work. Brings back nice memories. Rita
Dear Ernestine This discription paints some lovely colours in the mind. Very clear and dare I say it.....To the point I loved the subject as I have a passion for the bow, not the arrows so much mainly just the bow.
You 'Hit the gold' every time for me Ernestine.An excellent poem crafted by a Wordsmith. Sid John.
What fun Ernestine! I had a bow but got rid of it..............They really are difficult, I'm impressed! :) Sincerely, Mary
As always, right on target Ernestine! Would that all one time war weapons could become sports equipment. Many thanks Mike
Couldn't resist peeking at this one to find out what a toxophilite was! Now I know. A lovely read, Ernestine, and glad I came. Love, Fran xxx