What Does the Bottom of that Boot Taste Like? A Poem Narration. RIP Renee Good

I started writing this poem the day Nicole Good was shit in the face on video by Johnathan Ross… the question I’d like to ask so many Americans slobbering on boot-bottoms of unjust authority, What Does the Bottom of that Boot Taste Like? Rest in power, Renee and wake up Americans.

poetry #reneegood #fyp #ice #america

Saffron Symphony

Saffron Symphony, a poem born under the sun in Fountain Square. Written at @calvinfletcherscoffeeco and the video created at @bovaconticoffee from clips and photographs taken around FS. Grab my books on Amazon, yo! Listen to my music on Spotify.

Let it Ride (An Archery Poem)

Bone Collector BC-300 Archery Target

Let it Ride

this week,

like most weeks,

has had its ups and downs

though, I am thankful

that it’s mostly been on the up

rounding it out, so far as weekdays go,

is today—

Friday

while getting into my flow state for a bit

I descend into our basement

to shoot a quick round of six arrows

from my trusty recurve bow

they call this style of shooting

     traditional archery

          these days

days when most enthusiasts

let their arrows fly

from highly modernized wonders

of design, manufacturing, and technology

bows which feature:

multiple sight pins, oriented for specific yardages,

highly-tuned compound pulley systems,

significant let-off when fully drawn,

plus other advantageous

     bells and whistles

cutting-edge bows that feel more akin, in many ways,

to shooting a modern rifle

than they are

the ancient bows

of our warrior/hunter ancestors

BUT, when using an old-timey style stick and string

with no sights, let alone bells or whistles,

you’ve got to earn your confidence

     by your hits

via a good bit of practice and

the development

of your archer’s intuition

and your humility?

well— that is earned by your misses

“Aim small,

miss small,”

I recite in my mind

as slowly draw back number one for Friday morning,

feel my aim, and

let ‘er fly

dead bullseye, baby…

though I don’t often do this,

     I’m gonna cash in my bowman’s chips for the day

after only one shot

           since I found my center

                on the first try

mark it down in the “ups” category for this week

I’ll just let these other five arrows

have an early weekend

as for the first projectile

sharply piercing the nucleus 

of my well-worn target block

I’ll just

     let it ride

in singular satisfaction

Luke Austin Daugherty

4/18/2025

Listen to my music on Spotify and grab my newest book on Amazon at this link!

https://a.co/d/8uGk6LA

Only One Block Away, A Poem About Creeping Mortality

Only One Block Away

Plainfield, Indiana.
This was an ironic and related object lesson I saw during a walk on 1/6/21

Thanks for reading and sharing! Find my last three books on Amazon and my music on multiple sites! Just search my full name.

2-Up, A Motorcycle Poem by Luke Austin Daugherty

By Luke Austin Daugherty, copyright 2020, All Rights Reserved

Most poems follow an adventure. This one preceded it by a few hours…

We ended up at Lou’s Diner in Cloverdale, In. for dinner.

My ’82 Yamaha Maxim 750 didn’t let us down!