I am not female nor male, but I share in name. I am not plate or pad, but I am in-between. I am not whole, but I am forged ring by ring. I am not weak, I am but steel. Wear me now, for I save from others steel. What am I?

I carry your arm when it’s hurt, Or send a stone through the dirt. I heal and I hurl, what am I?

In movies I grant youth, when in Rome I grant a wish.

I hold what’s worn and quietly wait, Yet I can slow you down by holding on. A basket of pauses, a verb of delay What am I?

I’m chosen before the arrow ever departs, Named in the mind long before the shot starts. I wait without moving, yet tension is charged, Every miss circles me, every hit leaves me scarred. I give purpose to aim and meaning to mark it. What stands still, yet decides who’s clever or marks it?