A Quiver of Poets
Perhaps not a quill of poets
—but a quiver.
A vessel of feathered shafts,
their flights once borrowed from the birds,
each waiting
for the drawn breath,
the bending bow,
the moment of release.
For every feather
that steadied an arrow's flight
would one day steady
a poet's hand;
the wing becoming quill,
the quill becoming word.
We are armed
less with certainty
than questions.
We quiver too
—not only with fear,
but with wonder;
with the trembling
before truth is spoken,
before beauty is recognised,
before grief discovers
its own name.
The wind without
finds answer
in the weather within,
until language itself
takes wing.
And should our arrows fly,
let them seek
not flesh,
but complacency;
not hearts,
but the walls
that keep them hidden.
So, in deference
to wiser birds,
call us not
a quill of poets,
but
a quiver
—feathered
with borrowed wings,
trembling
before the string is loosed,
each bearing
a word
that hopes
to find its mark.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 19th, 2026 05:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Syd, ms.divine, Tristan Robert Lange

Offline)
Comments8
with so many arrows some will doubtless hit the mark, enjoyed read
Hopefully much more accurately than a shotgun ποΈππ»
Exactly my friend
This work moves me my friend. So well worded and paced it sends its message well and so clever in its metaphor and even word play with the word quiver as a homophone. The image is retained through the full poem moving from quill to arrow to word on a page. Nicely done and a fave
The βinventorsβ of our words have made such combinations possible, intentionally or otherwise ππ»ποΈ
I have often wondered about the invention of language itself and read of the invention of the alphabet and all its intrigues to modern day. What might poetry have been like in cuneiform or hieroglyphics.
Feels like a man learning his words can wound, and choosing where to aim anyway.
Thereβs grit in that restraintβlike holding the bow when the shot would be easy.
A deep and much appreciated read, dear Thomasππ»ποΈ
Brilliant written π Very relatable too. All stars π
- Syd π
Thank you so much, Syd. A most welcome initial response ππ»ποΈ
Good write A. Me quill's worn out. That bird in the garden is looking worried now! lol.
Aww, but one of our cats caught a young pigeon recently.
Feathers aplenty πͺΆ ππ»ποΈπ€£
A good way of describing the Putting together of words . If only we could hit a Bullseye every time.
Aye, must agree with you there, most wholeheartedly ππ»ποΈ
Wow, my friend...this is one hell of a metaphor! Poets become a collective of trembling truth-bearers whose words seek to pierce indifference and reach what people keep protected. Beautiful, intelligent, and deeply resonant. Brilliant work, arqios! πΉπ€ππ―οΈπ¦ββ¬
Glad to hear your heart on this my friend ππ»ποΈ
Beautifully written π
Thank you. πποΈ
You are welcome ππΌ
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