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Inside an Arrowhead
June 23, 2018
I have no wings –
And yet I fly.
I have been shot –
Yet never died.
I have a head –
Yet do not think,
And never from danger
Do I shrink.
I soar through the air by my master's hand
Trav’ling through the sky high above the land.
When in motion, I am harmless; when I land, all beware:
I have felled great cities, I am the bane of bears.
Fletched with the feathers of a bird,
Onward and onward do I surge.
My wood and steel have survived many a war;
With my sharp head and aim I will survive many more.
© Sean C., Princeton, IL
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This poem was born from two childhood obsessions of mine: an infatuation with archery after reading too much of The Hunger Games, and a penchant for rhyming riddles after reading too much of Harry Potter.