By The Horns Poem by Logan Myrhiem

You know when we were hunting

being quiet as the grave,

you and I were grunting

while moving plants in our way.



Then you heard something

not too far away

a deer? a moose? running

in this spot, we decided to stay.


We heard the same noise,

we caught a glimpse of the antlers,

You stood there poised,

Still as a steel rafter


Bow in hand

you ‘nocked the arrow,

the string, you grabbed

the noiselessness caused the moose to bolt.


You were crushed

quickly stolen of hope,

taken away into the brush

It was time I showed you the ropes...


...In the beginning you are lost

stripped of your bearings

your stomach full of frost

until your trip seems beyond repairing


Then that little sound

the spark of hope

Tramping down the ground

Erasing your previous mope



You chase that spark

until it turns into a flame

that lights up the dark

and shows the prize to claim.


Standing there

your docile dream

now your burden to bare

And for that you beam


You are extra careful now

taking one arrow of nine

You gently grip your bow

pull back string and let fly


The arrow finds its mark

you run at your kill

its blazing flame turning dark

but you get there still


The trip was hard and grueling

but you found what you were looking for

and showed who was ruling

and held life by the horns.