One Arrow's page of poems

Bissonnette Outdoors

One Arrow's page of poems

Friend Bobby sends me these to read, I think their too good to keep to myself.

Listen and hear

You're deep into the forest hunting whitetailed deer

sitting in your stand you listen to hear

There's nothing much moving on this brisk October day

but your patience is strong and so you will stay

Then off in the distance a huge buck does appear

your breathing gets louder as this monarch draws near

Your heartbeat increases at the anticipated shot

then your instincts take over as you pick your spot

You feel the warmth, of the wooden bow in your hand

and it's at this very moment, you are primitive man

As you loose your arrow, your eyes follow it's plume

Everything is so quiet it's like you're in a vacuum

You watch the arc of your arrow, right to the spot

and you're thankful that you've made a clean killing shot

You're snapped back to reality as the deer flees the scene

and you begin to wonder "was the shot really clean"?

You're mind is racing as you sit in your stand

you mark his last sighting and try to think up a plan

They say wait 30 minutes if your deer is to be found

but you can only wait 20 and you climb to the ground

It doesn't take long as you follow an easy blood trail,

to remove all doubt and to claim your whitetail

You are successful this day, you have taken your deer

and as you kneel beside him you listen to hear

There are mixed emotions as you look to the sky

Then like the hunters before you, you raise your bow high

Once again you have followed, their age old track

for it's the primitive hunter, that calls you back

Bob Botelho

AKA Onearrow

Traditional Hunter

There's a creature out there who's causing some wonder

He's quite simply known as, the Traditional Hunter

People want to know what makes him tic

And why he hunts with a bow that's just string and stick

Why don't he use the much faster compound

and put on a trick sight, and stop fooling around

You don't have to shoot them but once in awhile

and you'll put arrow after arrow in one neat little pile

I've been there and done that, I gave it a run

but still, year after year it was becoming less fun

Then it happened one day, one of lifes many curves

a friend mine gave me, his dear ole papa's recurve.

I shot it so much and had so much fun

that at the end of the first year I bought a new one

I keep my blades sharp and my reflexes quick

and practice a lot with my own string and stick

I love shooting my bow now and the touch of it's warm wood

It gives me a feeling from deep inside so distant,so good

So when I go out there where I love to be

From ground or from treestand, it's always with me

Because now I've done both and for me it's no wonder

why I'd much rather be a Traditional Hunter

Bob Botelho

AKA Onearrow

To The President of The United States

One bright sunny day on the 11th of September

into our lives a great terror would enter

Our planes would be hijacked in the early morning hours

and then be flown into the World Trade Center's Twin Towers

Such a terrible sight I thought I'd never live to see

but there it was being broadcast on my home tv

There was smoke and fire and people were crying

we looked on in horror cause we knew many were dying

Then into it all ran so many brave men

Port Authority, the NYPD and New York's Firemen

They gave us hope when they came to the rescue

but by the end of that day many of them would be dead too

The Twin Towers fell in two horrible crashes

burying them all in the rubble and ashes

It was almost too much as the scene went on

when another hijacked plane struck the Pentagon

Yet another hijacking crashed into a field

when several heroic passangers, fought and refused to yield

I couldn't believe it the United States was under attack

I wondered how many more planes did these terrorists hijack

So many died in those planes and in the towers

because of the acts, of some of the most despicable cowards

There's one thing on which these bloody terrorists can depend

We have vowed to stamp out terrorism, and we'll fight it to the end

So if you institute the draft and you're calling our sons

take me too I'll bring my own guns

It don't matter to me how long my duty hitch is

I'll do whatever it takes to rid the world, of those cowardly sons of bitches

It may take our lives if that's how it must be

and I'll readily give mine so my country can live free

God Bless America

Heros of the ring

Let me tell you a story about Muhammad Ali

the greatest prizefighter the world would ever see

He took on all comers and smiled at the danger

until he faced a man known as Smokin Joe Frazier

Their first two fights were like wars fought by two great nations

and would bring them both to, the greatest culmination

This greatest of all battles was named the Thrilla in Manila

for they both had that look of the stone cold killer

Joe came straight in and threw ferocious body punches

While Ali danced around and threw combinations in bunches

Many blows were traded by these two brave and proud

the sound of them landing could be heard above the crowd

Late in the fight it would be heard from Ali

this must be what dying is, I can't hardly breath

On the other side of the ring Smokin Joe was bruised badly

his eyes were swollen shut as his corner men worked madly

With the heart of a lion Smokin Joe fought Ali

when his handlers said that's it Joe, you can no longer see

So that's how it ended, this fight of all times

I don't know who your heros are but here's two of mine

Bob Botelho

AKA Onearrow