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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Punching bag..
Have a few friends, is good,
Be attached with our relatives, is the best,
because we can make them,
the punching bags.
quiet punching bags,
listening punching bags,
tolerant punching bags and
comforting punching bags.
They are just a call away,
call them with confidence,
talk to them,
we are happy and no stress.
They are just a call away,
call them with confidence,
share your thoughts,
only to people, trustworthy.
Stay alone not good,
be a punching bag,
to others. Listen to them,
there will no stressed out people,
loose on the roads,
tears in the eyes,
clouds in the brain,
betrayal in the heart,
looking for booze and drugs.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Boxers Dream (or was it?)
He'd retired from the Boxing ring
but was bored with daily life
he not only liked to hit the bottle
but also his long suffering wife.
Then one day she up and went
which made him drink even more
I may as well be dead he thought
as he lay in a drunken stupor on the floor.
But when he finally sobered up
a gentle voice whispered into his ear,
'You'll be a champion again my son
but first give up drinking Whisky and Beer.'
The Boxer thought he was going insane
maybe the cause of one too many fights?
but the voice kept on returning
throughout the days and the nights.
But slowly he did give up the boozing
and never set foot inside his local pub
he started working out in the Gym
then went back to his old Boxing Club.
His trainer really worked him hard
then after a few months told him he was ready
so he stepped back into the ring again
but decided to take it nice and steady.
But he won that first fight in style
winning with a Fifth round knockout
the boxer felt good and alive once more
and went on to win bout after bout.
He did finally become a Champion again
as proudly in the centre of the ring he stood
then the referee whispered gently into his ear:
'See my son I told you that you would! '
poem by Kevin Halls
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The death of a Boxer
One more fight
one more night
throw the left
throw the right
stay on my feet
don't get beat
take the pain
damaged brain
broken nose
broken jaw
cauliflower ear
end is near
knocked out
final bout
blood red
boxers dead.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Versus (vs.)
I was ok when I was happy
I can't remember feeling alive
I remember the pain, the tears, the blood
The knives
The innocence
The tears
The love
The fears
The want of blood
The want of fun
The want of tomorrow
The want of it all to be done
I wanted friends
I should have known
Nothing's real
I'm all alone
I've always been alone
You are born alone
You live alone
You die alone
poem by Brynn Fier
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Tough cat Sam returns
Tough cat Sam is restless
he wants to box again
retirement is boring he says
he misses the action and even the pain.
Jess says he's lost the plot
and he's being a grumpy old cat
although Sam maybe knocking on a bit
he can still do a hundred press ups on the mat.
He wants to fight the reigning champ
a psycho cat by the name of feral Fred
he hasn't lost a fight in years
and two poor opponents ended up dead.
But Sam has been working out
and eating lots and lots of raw fish
feral Fred has heard all about this
and says he'll grant Sam his wish.
The Feline Gazette ran the headline
that Sam is too old and must be mad
they wrote some nasty things in their paper
saying he was washed up and very sad.
But Tough cat Sam had heard it before
and announced that he was in really good nick
while feral Fred laughed and taunted Sam
saying he was just an old cat and thick.
So Sam had his fight with feral Fred
and for fifteen rounds they went paw to paw
and when the fight finally came to an end
feral Fred was lying knocked out on the floor.
Tough cat Sam was the champion again
the oldest cat to retain the boxing crown
and as Sam proudly said to the feline press
' I'm living proof you can't keep a good cat down!
poem by Kevin Halls
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I Am a Roman Soldier
I am a Roman soldier.
I choke on the dust and peer ahead.
There are only more soldiers and more marching.
The sun gleams from shields slung over the backs of my comrades
and our swords clank at our sides.
Only three weeks into the Germania campaign
and the Senate still favors the Brutii.
Still, General Augustus favors blood,
and so we march.
I am a Roman soldier and I fight for Rome and for glory.
My javelins tangle and I stop to adjust them.
Their one-use tips were digging in my back.
Feet continue to march past and I smell sweat and dirt.
There are murmurs of conversation
About the last town we sacked.
About the screams and the blood,
and how the Armenians would rather fight
then submit to Roman power.
I am a Roman soldier.
I grew up in Croton, a large town South of Rome.
My mother weaved cloth for the governor,
the white and green of the Brutii.
They claim they first settled Rome,
Their ancestor is Brutus, survivor of Troy
relation of the great Romulus.
My father was a proud Brutii
and his eyes sparkled at the name.
“Brutus, ” he said, “started this family with honor
and with honor died.”
Then two weeks passed,
and he died at Carthage.
I am a Roman soldier and I fight for Rome.
I pretend to inspect my shield as legions pass.
A Centurion calls for water and boasts
“It’s not to drink but to wipe off barbarian blood! ”
We Romans are tough and mighty
and will rule the world with Strength and Honor
There’s a problem with a leather strap
and I listen to the pounding feet.
I saw blood splattered on many.
Dried and brown.
I am a Roman soldier.
My mother’s voice rings in my head,
“Come back with your shield, or upon it.”
I wonder if my blood will be dried
and brown on someone’s feet some day.
I shake off the thought and raise my head.
The wind stirs my hair.
With it comes the rumble of cavalry.
The General will meet with us tonight.
Tomorrow we lay siege.
He had said we will do great things,
and that neither cities nor hordes could stop us.
We will live in glory and there will be songs about us
sung through the ages.
I am a Roman soldier and I am sick of fighting.
The army surges ahead and I watch it.
Shimmering and moving with a rhythm.
Thousands of blades of grass tossed by the wind.
The cavalry comes neatly alongside;
loud voices ring out in greeting.
I sigh and heft my shield,
Don my helmet and check my sword.
I fight because I have to,
I fight because the world would not have it otherwise,
The world could not stand to have one less of me,
I am a Roman soldier.
poem by Josiah Wedgewood
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The River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.
poem by Marria Attar
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There's something so familial and intimate between a boxer and his trainer.
quote by Jimmy Smits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Their Feet
My feet walk on soil where my ancestors blood, sweat and tears where shed.
Blood from the lashes on their backs that was put there by a cold wet whip all because they fought to be free.
Sweat that dripped from their brows from the hard work they did to help build this country we call America.
Tears that was cried so many nights they could fill a river with their sorrow.
But even after all that they did not crawl upon their knees or slide upon their bellies.
Their faith gave them hope for a brighter future for all those who would come after them. People such as Rosa Parks, Dr. Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and even me, and because of this faith no matter what they always stood upon their feet.
Ancient Warrior
Theres no end - theres no beginning -
To the old mans story
Does he still remember me -
From lives gone by
Oh I see his spirit rising
Upon the back of time
Ive got nowhere to hide
Will he keep a place for me
He is the king of all kings
The keeper of light
He holds eternitys wings
In his eyes an oceans burning
Swollen seat of tears
Troubled mind the beating
War drums in his ears
No one ever hears his warning
Am I the one he calls
When they tell me theyre afraid
Some say Ill be put away
He is the king of all kings
The keeper of light
He holds eternitys wings
My blood will spill my blood
My blood will spill my blood
In the wisdom of the prophets
Never ending tale
Open up the eyes
Within your mind, he says
Crowned in his ancient glory
Theres a king within us all
Some will say its all in vain
That he doesnt have a name
He is the king of all kings
The keeper of light
He holds eternitys wings
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bus Stop Boxer
I dont miss where I came from
But each night I dream about being back home
When I wake up in the morning
Im too tired, tired of being alone
So I get up and go downtown
And pick me out a little piece of ground
Where I can prove something to the world
I can prove something to the world
Dont look at me
Im the bus stop boxer x2
Daddy put us in the truck and
Dropped us off and said good luck, then
One lucky kid waiting for the bus
Made a winner out of one of us
Dont look at me
Im the bus stop boxer x2
Going down by the railroad tracks, where
People know that they better not relax
Im the man, baby, I am the man
This is where I can make you understand
Im the bus stop boxer
Dont look at me x2
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ramble
Ramble is a boxer and he is fighting in the ring with Mad dog
who ever win the boxing fight will take home $ 76,000.00 dollars
And it would be nice for Ramble but not Mad dog because Mad dog is already a boxing champion and he already won 20 boxing fights
But his boss is trying hard to push him to win this fight and Mad dog is A Jamaican guy and Ramble is a American guy
But on the first, second and third round of the boxin g fight Ramble knocked down Mad dog and Ramble by now was winnin the fight and Mad dog kept trying hard to knock Ramble down but mad dog got up And knocked Ramble down and than Ramble knocked down Mad dog on the Fourth round, fifth round, and the six round and Mad dog Won his first Boxing fight at the Mapple Leaf Gardens here in Toronto
And he got the $76,000.00 dollars to take home
But he got congratulated by his wife and his kids
Also the good news is that now they can pay their debts of and Eventualy buy a house to live in
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Worst Person
i am a worst person
worst person who wish to kill my enemy
i want to kill them until they ask for a pity
kill them until their tears is falling
until their blood flow like a river
i want to see them screaming
screaming to me with tears of blood
blood of their own
i want to revenge for justice
justice that im asking for so long
so long that I've been to silence
so long that I'm crying as i sleep
because before i have no strength to fight
but now i found my strength
i don't have to cry as i sleep
my face will be brighten again
if i will kill them
i can taste the sweetness of a revenge
i don't have a pity with them anymore
because i am a worst person
poem by Shirralyn Poquiz
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The Angry Man
Fists clenched tight, real tight
Jaws locked, this primeval
urge to fight, beating the wall
it wont give in, but neither will I
strike after strike, with each drop
blood then sweat, nothing else
no one else, nowhere else
seems to matter
true enough these are motions of man
but not of a good man, not of me...
in the shattered glass, the puddle of blood
A reflection, wild and lawless
cold and heartless, I have to
beat this, to see this
for what it is, though powerful and relentless
Not strength, not strength at all
simply weakness
poem by Craig Parmisan
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Agony
Ever wonder how He felt?
Praying in the garden
His students asleep
Could not watch for an hour
He knew He had to die
Even if it's just for me
He would be scourged
He would sweat blood
Even if it's just for me
Agony!
There He was, fixed
Nails in hands and feet
For a moment
Abandoned by God
Agony!
They pierced Him
Blood and water gushed
Mom at His feet
Brothers vanquished
Head bowed
Breathed His last
How He felt?
Think you have it hard?
Think about Him
Agony!
He was wrapped
Buried and left
Thought it was the end?
Not so fast!
Three days later
He got up
Just like that
Now He reigns victorious
Today knees bow
Eyes close
Agony?
poem by Buxton Shippy
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You Lost....
i could have told you
about the dignity of silence
how victorious always
is it in the turbulence of
the daily noise
in the market of the
multitude
those screaming hours
the maddening chatter of
the crowd
but then you were too busy
feeding the noise
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stay Loose
If youve got a heartache
Of the kind that will not pass by
Even if you dont see the end
Of what lies around the bend
Dont stay that way
Its all in a day believe me
Even the best of friends must part
Even so it grieves me
Stay loose, dont fight it
Let it take you all the way and
If its wrong, you will right it
Do not waste these hours away
How many times have I told you
Theres are the tears Ive shed
Could it be that I need help
Is it maybe Ive come undone
And one thing more
You know it dont come easy
Even the best of friends must part
Even so it grieves me
Stay loose, dont fight it
Let love take a holiday
If its wrong, youre gonna right it
Do not waste these hours away
Soon the storm will be over
And the clouds will all pass by
To be insane beyond belief
Is sometimes the best relief
And one thing sure
Love never did come easy
Even the best of dreams must end
Even so it grieves me
Stay loose, dont fight it
Let it take you all the way and
If its wrong, you will right it
Do not waste these hours away
Stay loose, dont fight it
Let love take a holiday
If its wrong, youre gonna right it
Do not waste these hours away
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Nights
I've hated to talk about it,
but there has been so many after nights.
I've needed to work out, one more story.
Trying to end, my often very sad's.
Another one, of my, the most incredibly bad's!
My heart, was shaking as I knelt on the ground.
My hands, were pressing his wounds.
Pressing hard, prayng, deeper and deeper.
Begging God, Help, Shouting, Holding back the Grim Reaper
Like his mother, my shaking hands
With a sobbing, torn chest
Held him tightly to my breast
Gently wiped the blood from his face and lips
I watched, and felt his soul, escaped my grip.
Raining tears washed the blood from his face.
Even now, I've often wished that God.
Would've let me take his place!
I couldn't bare to see my brother die!
The shouting of my heart, screaming why? God. Why?
Please! God! Why....?
I felt my buddies tears, they were hugging our backs.
Even though, I knew he was dead.
God,
I held him close, I kissed his head.
Like a mother with hurt child.
I sat, rocking him in the mud.
Filling a rice paddy with tears, and blood.
So now after all these years.
I've tried to tell, my life story. Of so many tears.
I've had enough, to make rice paddies flood?
My tears as I've relived, nights, after nights.
How I tried. To stop. My buddies blood
So, just, how, many tears, does it take to make a rice paddy flood?
I've seen that much, and his filled it with blood.
So when you read this, try to understand.
I'm doing the best that I can.
I fight every day the things that make me so sad.
But it helps to talk about it, and the many after nights!
The days and days, the nights after nights.
I've called my life stories, just incredibly bad...........
poem by Clyde Bryson
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I had to get up run in the morning for 2 hours, go to the gym and also get good opponents as sparring partners because I'm a big believer in that how you train is how you will fight at least when it came to me that's how it worked.
quote by Alexis Arguello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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