Averted Violence
Stripped to the buff they circled round,
And jagged and swung and crossed;
To uppercut and smash and pound
No chances either lost;
Till folks opined, in some alarm,
That they might do each other harm.
Fiercely, they swung the left and right,
With punch and bash and clout:
Each grimly hopeful that he might
Secure the glad knock-out.
And, as they watched the 'claret' spurt,
The crowd feared someone might be hurt.
The ribs of one were bruised and sore,
His chin was badly gashed;
The other's face was streaked with gore;
And yet they biffed and bashed.
And someone said, 'It this goes on
There'll be an injury anon.'
Harder and swifter rained the blows,
And fiercer grew the fray;
At chest and chin and eye and nose
Each boxer biffed away;
Till cried the audience in fright,
If they're not stopped they'll start to fight!'
But on they battled, bruised and dazed,
Scarce able now to stand;
Until the Law stepped in and raised
A stern, restraining hand.
'Ah!' sighed the crowd, freed from suspense,
'It might have led to violence.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Jimmy Jet And His TV Set
I'll tell you the story of Jimmy Jet--
And you know what I tell you is true.
He loved to watch his TV set
Almost as much as you.
He watched all day, he watched all night
Till he grew pale and lean,
From 'The Early Show' to 'The Late Show'
And all the shows in between.
He watched till his eyes were frozen wide,
And his bottom grew into his chair.
And his chin turned into a tuning dial,
And antennae grew out of his hair.
And his brains turned into TV tubes,
And his face to a TV screen.
And two knobs saying 'vert.' and 'horiz.'
Grew where his ears had been.
And he grew a plug that looked like a tail
So we plugged in little Jim.
And now instead of him watching TV
We all sit around and watch him.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pugilist
You need to be tough to be a boxer
it helps to have a granite like chin
be able to move and bob and weave
and get up off the canvas to win.
Hours and hours of sparring at the gym
cauliflower ears and a nose that bends
sit-ups, press-ups, and punching the bags,
blood, sweat, and tears are his closest friends.
The boxer hears the noise of the crowd
screaming, shouting, baying for blood,
but he battles on ignoring his pain
ahead on points and fighting real good.
Remember all of what the trainer has said
stay on your feet and don't go down
but his strength is going can he go on?
he must if he wants to win that crown.
Cut and bloodied and out on his feet
he holds on to the end of the fight
the referee walks over and raises his arm
now a new champion reigns supreme tonight!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Badger
The badger grunting on his woodland track
With shaggy hide and sharp nose scrowed with black
Roots in the bushes and the woods, and makes
A great high burrow in the ferns and brakes.
With nose on ground he runs an awkward pace,
And anything will beat him in the race.
The shepherd's dog will run him to his den
Followed and hooted by the dogs and men.
The woodman when the hunting comes about
Goes round at night to stop the foxes out
And hurrying through the bushes to the chin
Breaks the old holes, and tumbles headlong in.
When midnight comes a host of dogs and men
Go out and track the badger to his den,
And put a sack within the hole, and lie
Till the old grunting badger passes bye.
He comes and hears—they let the strongest loose.
The old fox hears the noise and drops the goose.
The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,
And the old hare half wounded buzzes bye.
They get a forked stick to bear him down
And clap the dogs and take him to the town,
And bait him all the day with many dogs,
And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.
He turns about to face the loud uproar
And drives the rebels to their very door.
The frequent stone is hurled where e'er they go;
When badgers fight, then every one's a foe.
The dogs are clapt and urged to join the fray;
The badger turns and drives them all away.
Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,
He fights with dogs for bones and beats them all.
The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray,
Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.
The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,
The badger grins and never leaves his hold.
He drives the crowd and follows at their heels
And bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels.
The frighted women take the boys away,
The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.
He tries to reach the woods, an awkward race,
But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.
He turns again and drives the noisy crowd
And beats the many dogs in noises loud.
He drives away and beats them every one,
And then they loose them all and set them on.
He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men,
Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again;
Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies
And leaves his hold and cackles, groans, and dies.
Some keep a baited badger tame as hog
And tame him till he follows like the dog.
They urge him on like dogs and show fair play.
He beats and scarcely wounded goes away.
Lapt up as if asleep, he scorns to fly
And seizes any dog that ventures nigh.
Clapt like a dog, he never bites the men
But worries dogs and hurries to his den.
They let him out and turn a harrow down
And there he fights the host of all the town.
He licks the patting hand, and tries to play
And never tries to bite or run away,
And runs away from the noise in hollow trees
Burnt by the boys to get a swarm of bees.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Insurrections
I saw God. Do you doubt it?
Do you dare to doubt it?
I saw the Almighty Man. His hand
Was resting on a mountain, and
He looked upon the World and all about it:
I saw Him plainer than you see me now,
You mustn't doubt it.
He was not satisfied;
His look was all dissatisfied.
His beard swung on a wind far out of sight
Behind the world's curve, and there was light
Most fearful from His forehead, and He sighed,
'That star went always wrong, and from the start
I was dissatisfied.'
He lifted up His hand-
I say He heaved a dreadful hand
Over the spinning Earth, then I said 'Stay,
You must not strike it, God; I'm in the way;
And I will never move from where I stand.'
He said, 'Dear child, I feared that you were dead,'
And stayed His hand.
poem by James Stephens
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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More Of Your Wounding
You left me sore,
Battered and bruised.
Feeling used to then be dissed.
To then hear from you say,
I am missed and you wish forgiveness.
And suddenly I am reminscing,
That moment we met to touch and kiss.
To forget you left me sore to mend.
As again,
I answer your knock at my door.
Knowing I welcome...
More of your wounding.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The final bell rings
The crowd were going crazy
as the two boxers entered the ring
the best fighters in there division
one would be the new boxing king.
The bell rang for the start of the fight
the arena was now at fever pitch
one of these pugilists would be a victor
and become wealthy and stinking rich.
The punches from them both were hard
this was a fight that was brutal and tough
these fighters really meant business
and the rounds were mean and rough.
There was nothing between them both
as the fight went to it's final round
when suddenly one of them collapsed
from being noisy you couldn't hear a sound.
The medics rushed into the blood stained ring
as the boxer lay motionless and deathly White
the referee raised the arm of the new champion
and he was announced as the winner of the fight.
But sadly the loser never ever came round
he died in the hospital that very same night
this brave and courageous warrior lost his life
sadly never again to step into a ring to fight.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Face In The Crowd
Our star doesn't know who he is any
More. is he the starmaker, the image
Maker, looking for material or is he
Just plain boring little norman after
All? perhaps he should accept that he
Is a plain ordinary bloke and not try to
Be something he is not.
(a) face in the crowd
I've got to stop faking it,
I've got to start facing it,
I'm going to take my final bow
Then i'm going to take my place in the crowd.
I know i'll get used to it,
I've got to stop acting like a clown.
I've gotta start facing up to what i really am.
I've got to realise l'm just an ordinary man.
I think that i'll just settle down
And take my place in the crowd.
I don't want to lie to myself any more.
Am i just a face in the crowd, is that all i'll ever be?
Don't want to be anything that isn't really me.
Mister, can you tell me who i am?
Do you think i stand out
Or am i just a face in the crowd?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(A) Face In The Crowd
Our Star doesn't know who he is any
more. Is he the starmaker, the image
maker, looking for material or is he
just plain boring little Norman after
all? Perhaps he should accept that he
is a plain ordinary bloke and not try to
be something he is not.
(A) Face In The Crowd
I've got to stop faking it,
I've got to start facing it,
I'm going to take my final bow
Then I'm going to take my place in the crowd.
I know I'll get used to it,
I've got to stop acting like a clown.
I've gotta start facing up to what I really am.
I've got to realise l'm just an ordinary man.
I think that I'll just settle down
And take my place in the crowd.
I don't want to lie to myself any more.
Am I just a face in the crowd, is that all I'll ever be?
Don't want to be anything that isn't really me.
Mister, can you tell me who I am?
Do you think I stand out
Or am I just a face in the crowd?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling in snow on a frosty Evening
I’ve fallen and I bruised my rump.
I was out shoveling near the stump.
I was trying to get the driveway free.
A plow had just come by, you see.
I had a shovelful to toss
When suddenly, my footing lost,
I was sailing in the air
destined for the snow pile there.
I have bruises on both knees
My ribs are sore, it hurts to sneeze.
I think I should have stayed inside
And worst of all -It hurt my pride.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sad, Old Fart
Somewhere, someplace, there must exist
Some sad, old fart who's never been kissed.
He dreams of all the chances he's missed
And those chances make a long, long list.
It's driving him right round the twist
So he wonders whether to slash his wrist.
They'd only fetch a psychiatrist
So he decides to go out and get pissed!
Down at the pub he meets a girl
And decides (at last!) to give it a whirl,
So he reaches down to pinch her bum
But she slaps his face for being so dumb!
In a fit of anger he starts a fight
Only to get thrown out in the night,
He wakes up sore and bruised in a ditch
And it's all because of that mean, young bitch!
'I've had enough! ' he says to himself,
'Forty odd years left on the shelf!
'It's enough to make a grown man weep
'So from this day I'm sticking to sheep! '
The moral is you must 'pluck the day'
Before all your luck has trickled away.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Resist and Succeed
Learn perspective and endurance.
If you fail today, you are stronger tomorrow.
If you fall today, you will soar tomorrow.
A boxer has lost every round to eventually win the fight.
He throws his bruised body into the pummeling of the opponent,
His eyes are closed with blood and sweat
But still looking for his opportunity
Until he lands the knockout punch.
Life is a struggle but your heart must never be vanquished.
Push forward in everything you do
To make your existence meaningful.
A hundred falls and a thousand mistakes
Will never define your being
But your dogged determination to resist and succeed.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those last days
the boy is all grown up
rich, a tycoon in fact
but occasionally
touching expressions
of old, still steal
their way to his face
an emotion bruised child -
who had day by day
watched mom emaciated
till her last breath broke
his heart into pieces
never to heal again -
returned to him in another
bout of despair
the pain dawned like
periodic attacks,
jagged pieces
poking, choking him
the boy who
could not share
all his wealth with mom
to forget those last days
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Anniversary
"This bunch of violets," he said,
"Is for my daughter dear.
Since that glad morn when she was wed
It is today a year.
She lives atop this flight of stairs--
Please give an arm to me:
If we can take her unawares
How glad she'll be!"
We climbed the stairs; the flight was four,
Our steps were stiff and slow;
But as he reached his daughter's door
His eyes were all aglow.
Joylike he raised his hand to knock,
Then sore distressed was I,
For from the silence like a shock
I heard a cry.
A drunken curse, a sob of woe . . .
His withered face grew grey.
"I think," said he, "we'd better go
And come another day."
And as he went a block with me,
Walking with weary feet,
His violets, I sighed to see,
Bestrewed the street.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The crowd is the catalyst.
Whenever you are in the crowd
There I get you by sensual aid
As eyes are swords, more than words.
You are at ease in the crowd,
So private and so shrewd
In your approach to my side
That no one can suspect.
Enough. That only I expect.
A clear internet exists,
That binds us with no exits.
You are so sophisticated;
I am so intoxicated.
Whenever you are in the crowd
I never miss the very crowd.
You are the reason that I survive.
You are the cause my youth relives.
Whenever we are in the crowd
In us is lost the whole crowd.
We are fed when our eyes meet.
More than that, I want not.
Less than that, I stand not.
We are at ease in the crowd.
The whole time I shall incur.
I salute the crowd to recur.
30.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Knock On My Door
She knew my feelings were jangled and frayed
She knew my feelings were jangled and frayed
She took me into a wind blown alley way
She took me into a wind blown alley way
She showed me a world a boy should see
She showed me a world a boy should see
Ill thank her till the day that I die
Ill thank her till the day that I die
So, here we go
No knock on my door
So, here we go
Believe it till you see
No knock on my door
What living has done to me
Believe it till you see
And Im sure that I need holding
What living has done to me
And Im sure that I need holding
I took her to a room and I showed her myself
She made me feel proud that I would stand for
Theres nothing that this girl wouldnt do for me
I took her to a room and I showed her myself
For that Ive got to thank her and I mean it
She made me feel proud that I would stand for
Theres nothing that this girl wouldnt do for me
So, here we go
For that Ive got to thank her and I mean it
A face in the crowd,
Jump up and jump down
Baby, can you see through me?
So, here we go
A face in the crowd,
Sure, Ive been here before
Jump up and jump down
No knock on my door
Baby, can you see through me?
No love in the
Baby, please be my
Sure, Ive been here before
Sure, Ive seen it before
No knock on my door
No knock on my door
No love in the
Love in the
Baby, please be my
Can be painful, I know
Cry, I cry every night
Sure, Ive seen it before
I need to hold you tight
No knock on my door
Oh, can you see me
Love in the
Knocking down your door?
Can be painful, I know
Sure, theres times I have hoped
Cry, I cry every night
Theres times I have dreamed
I need to hold you tight
Oh, but it seems that much to me to me, my love
Oh, can you see me
I never seemed to it out, my love
Knocking down your door?
Im shakin
Yeah, Im shakin
Sure, theres times I have hoped
Theres times I have dreamed
She knew my feelings were jangled and frayed
Oh, but it seems that much to me to me, my love
She took me into a wind blown alley way
I never seemed to it out, my love
She showed me what a boy should see
Ill thank her till the day I die
So, here we go
Im shakin
No knock on my door
Yeah, Im shakin
Believe it till you see what livin has done to me
And Im sure I need some company
I took her to a room and I showed her myself
She knew my feelings were jangled and frayed
She made me feel proud and I was thankful
She took me into a wind blown alley way
Theres nothing that this girl wouldnt do for me
She showed me what a boy should see
For that Ive got to thank her I mean it
Ill thank her till the day I die
So, here we go
So, here we go
No knock on my door
A face in the crowd
Believe it till you see what livin has done to me
Jump up and jump down baby
And Im sure I need some company
You can see through me
I took her to a room and I showed her myself
She made me feel proud and I was thankful
Sure, Ive been here before
Theres nothing that this girl wouldnt do for me
No knock on my door
For that Ive got to thank her I mean it
No love in the jar baby please be my star
Sure Ive seen it before
No knock on my door
So, here we go
Love in the jar has been painful
A face in the crowd
I know
Jump up and jump down baby
I know
You can see through me
Cry, Ive cried every night
I need to hold you tight, baby
Sure, Ive been here before
Could you see me knocking down your door
No knock on my door
Sure theres times that Ive gone and times I have dreamed
No love in the jar baby please be my star
Oh, but it seems that I pushed you in my life
Sure Ive seen it before
Cant seem to get it out my life
No knock on my door
Love in the jar has been painful
Shakin.
I know
Yeah Im shakin
I know
And Im shakin
Cry, Ive cried every night
I need to hold you tight, baby
Could you see me knocking down your door
Sure theres times that Ive gone and times I have dreamed
Oh, but it seems that I pushed you in my life
Cant seem to get it out my life
Shakin.
Yeah Im shakin
And Im shakin
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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3rd Of June
This is the 3rd of june, 1988
A highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over manhattan
In a downtown far away, mr. toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxers towels after a fight
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know where I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Ruins of a childs old fantasy
Ruins of a child was [? ]
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face
Took off his jacket
Put it on the pavement
Stepped on it
And started preaching like a monk from another world
After some minutes, he had a little crowd
Which dissappeared when a police car passed by slowly
Like rolling gloom
And mr. toomy throws his voice til he was the only one in the area
At this early night of june 3rd, 1988
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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3rd Of June
This is the 3rd of june, 1988
A highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over manhattan
In a downtown far away, mr. toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxers towels after a fight
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know where I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Ruins of a childs old fantasy
Ruins of a child was [? ]
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face
Took off his jacket
Put it on the pavement
Stepped on it
And started preaching like a monk from another world
After some minutes, he had a little crowd
Which dissappeared when a police car passed by slowly
Like rolling gloom
And mr. toomy throws his voice til he was the only one in the area
At this early night of june 3rd, 1988
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I fell off stage and bruised some ribs. The worst part was that the audience didn't realize I was gone.
quote by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness vs Sadness
Like boxers, they must compete every time they hear the bell.
Each one will take and give jabs, dancing round the ring well.
Happiness rules the early rounds, then sadness leaves its mark.
Mid way through the prize fight, things will look stark
For the boxer whose condition isn’t wrought from early days
When mind and matter most respond to influential ways.
The negative of sadness can be a lethal left cross
With its “don’ts” and “cant’s” and “won’t’s”, it guarantees a lasting loss.
But happiness breeds confidence and always keeps in sight
The weaknesses of the opponent and the reason for this fight.
The knock out punch for sadness is unconditional, selfless love
Which will triumph every time without even raising a boxer’s glove.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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