The tall beauty comes armed
for the kill, always on the hunt,
her cloak loose about shoulders
to leave free the hand that pulls
no errant arrow of sudden death.
She targets with a fury, birthing
and dying her twins held fast in
wrathful sight. Beneath a crescent
moon she worships with a passion,
favors the beasts and fowl — stag
and boar, hound and hawk, the four
golden-horned deer now harnessed
to her chariot of gold. Witness her
bow and swear oaths of allegiance;
bestow the amaranth that does not
soon fade, the garlands of asphodel
that shade the underworld in grey.
Artemis, immortal midwife, she-
bear and virgin, patron of the wild,
takes her stance, readies her shoot.
Write a poem of your own based on Lisa’s image “Plywood Archer #1,” or choose a line from Maureen’s poem as a starting place. Post on your blog and link to us (we love that), or just drop your poems here in the comment box.
See the first Image-ine Poetry post in this series.
See the second Image-ine Poetry post in this series.
See the third Image-ine Poetry post in this series.
See the fourth Image-ine Poetry post in this series.