Companion Poem by (TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

Poetry, strikes arrows at desires within, declares out a word, say stand, is to me a voice heard, that land, statement free emotions, sighted in line written; by wand: and bow.

Love it to calm, high wind breeze, activate this need, by set intentions, aimed at a target, slow pulling a red string, stretched, pull back, direction goes up that flow, low; release: its hum.

Archer, held picture its view, with a direct lined sight, which defeats evil, capture an angel's bad, save love things; put in my heart: its rapture.

My weapon, beside me, in total readiness, hit to trap, assure the eye, observe this fact, mark strike, release at straight, slap at a target; stop bad intent: its cap.

Truth, by a call, summoned, should be heard, surging fall view in a dream, it's to conquer the wall there's, word spoken, touched by none, sounds; fulfill: arrow sliced ring.

Poetry, assisting my comfort, around me, relaxes, as a blanket, it's a fort to cover, shields put time, there I, when my site isn't precisely lined, to abort; know that's amiss: I'll cry.

Poetry, chalk out thought, began I to talk, launched an arrow, direct hit ideal to tingle, awaited time for my shot; sometime take a walk: doubts this consideration.

Her love striking a spot clear, conveys a right, touching my fear, shred it the worst of things, senses feelings, pull back my tear, sounding; that's to sing: of a yearning heart.