Isabelle Cooper


To Conway Power Baroness Of Greenfield - Poem by Isabelle Cooper

Reason, passion, the sighting eye
The hand that launched to kill
Or perhaps worse, and not recall

Does the arrow remember these
As it flies to mark?

No!

But on careful thought

Yes!

It cannot forget, its mode of memory
Faultless, structured in being
Complete in action, sure to hit

So tis true with the words we write:
Do follow a distant power primeval
Unconscious from some past unknown

In them some essence, not theirs

Some far bowman sighting, some arm lifted
Some mark sped to drifted ages since
Now all thrumming within
Their flying perfect, their strike certain

As we travel this enchanting place

Are not we both bowman
And arrow in this space?

Topic(s) of this poem: abstract


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Poem Edited: Sunday, March 6, 2016


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