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The Broken Arrow: Eleven Poems




The Broken Arrow


Eleven Poems


by Daniel Hargrove

Published by Daniel Hargrove at Shakespir


Copyright 2017 Daniel Hargrove


Cover art copyright 2017 Daniel Hargrove


Shakespir Edition, License Notes


This book is published for anyone’s enjoyment. Authors retain the copyright to their work. Users may read, copy and distribute the work in any medium or format for non-commercial purposes, provided the authors and the journal are appropriately credited. The users are not allowed to remix, transform or build upon the published material.

01 The Broken Arrow


02 The Walnut of Tricks


03 On the Way to Fish


04 The Lemon Ice


05 To the Young Adventurer


06 My Worstest Poem


07 The Monogamy of the Seeker


08 The Iron Track


09 The Rust for Ages


10 Musing on Ethics


11 Of Iron and Masks

The Broken Arrow


Seven shots rang out

and the last snapped the arrow

in the middle of flight

confusion in the robin’s eyes

perhaps she will fly again

and meet the

red-breasted sunset

in a shower of tricks

to making a nest

The Walnut of Tricks


The crunch

has made me curlicue

in a spin of knots

which I describe as a tree

from which the oranges hang

which a monkey can pick

the giraffes eat them

and she enjoys them, and her

but the crunch is very, very bad.

It makes me see in peppermint

the stripes of the tiger

who could not find her beat

a time of winter’s sight

that the suns

and suns of suns

only hope to copy

they’ve got a very cotton

and the switch was made

On the Way to Fish


Turning through the home

onto Maple Lane

to taste the syrup

rich and sweet

on the grand stack

the bitter is small

a lemon for the tea

into the park

under the high sun

and through the tangle of undergrowth

as if mere cobwebs

turning to the next home

they grow so fast

a pita to say the least

but love all the while

I must’ve missed something

which I remember well

which could’ve gone better

so easy for the otter


The Lemon Ice


The high and bright

canaries of the chicken

easy street

and not taking the time

to spit where spit belongs

my tired eyes

don’t believe in that

digestion of sun

oh, they do run

indeed they run

always winning the race

from A-Z

with the why missing

I would almost pray

but they won’t fall

tricking sharp eyes

where no sharp eye belongs

in eternal peace

when there is none

To the Young Adventurer


I…am an acid casualty

that goddam drug

screwed up my life

there have been good times

and there have been bad times

of insanity that never seems to stop

I am a schizophrenic

my illness is episodic

sometimes I hear voices

and it can last for months

sometimes I can work

and sometimes I can’t

it is agony and very real

when it is happening

I try not to think about it

and remember the good times

stay away from it

My Worstest Poem


I came across a thought

that inspired a bad poem

with a bad influence

like always, it seems





frustrations drip

like wine from a

leaky wine barrel

onto the blue tablecloth

where a grape never

ventured from the vine

taking sides

into a night

too long to suffer

I cuss in broken Spanish

for the benefit of a fly

The Monogamy of the Seeker


Dark and disturbed

the sinister gentleman

with the good intent

trudges his way through the forest

the squirrels scatter

a deer looks

and runs

the rabbits

may be curious

but they know better

but a buzzard

wheels overhead

perhaps the buzzard will dive

to some weedy grasses

where a wolf has gotten too hungry

and preyed on one

or the other?

or starved?

Or was there no wolf?

perhaps there are no wolves left

The Iron Track


I have visited the place you speak of

and it wasn’t to my liking

so i did what work I could on it

and found out I wasn’t there

again, time got away from me

and time often does that

I’m older

and way more tired

than you might imagine

but I’ll be back in a jiffy

with some lemonade

we can share

life is like a train

and we get there

no matter how bored we get

life takes time

The Rust for Ages


We can’t give the world back

the love it has lost

or the lovers

it has lost

but we can give

love to the world

along with

our distrust



and frustrations

perhaps and forever

in some subtle way

perhaps we can overcome the obstacles

and perhaps we can’t

but try again

if you fail

and over again

Musing on Ethics


I can be tempted

by a chocolate malt

but it’s not the devil tempting me

it’s the chocolate malt

it may be a sin to kill someone

but it’s not an absolute

someone may have a good reason

to kill someone else

a terrorist, for example

I may have thought through my ethics

but not everyone has to

some people follow the rules

and the rules are good, usually

some rules we break

and it’s not always easy to do the right thing

is the right thing always to

follow the rules?

sometimes we make mistakes

and sometimes we break the rules

for a good reason

Of Iron and Masks


These chains I wear

are getting rustier

but not rusty enough, yet

to break

and fall to the ground

a sly raccoon

eyes me for the link

to song and story

where I go

when the tears dry

and love seems possible


I need to get ahead

past these chains

now broken

she says

her tail still striped

her name still bandit

my eyes still gone

kept in her pocket

The Broken Arrow: Eleven Poems

  • Author: Daniel Hargrove
  • Published: 2017-06-27 23:05:09
  • Words: 987
The Broken Arrow: Eleven Poems The Broken Arrow: Eleven Poems