BOXERS POEM

barney4001

BOXERS POEM

i ask you not for victory.....
for somehow, that seems wrong,
but only for protection
and the courage to be strong;

strength- not to conquer-
but just that i'll fight well
and prove myself a sportsman
at the final bell.

i ask you, christ of suffering,
that i should suffer pain
i'll offer it for all my sins
so that it won't be in vain

and if prehaps, he cuts me
and the bright red blood i see,
i ask that i'll remember
the blood you shed for me.

i need you in my corner
but likewise, in the order,
so that i'll remember
my opponent is my brother.

and i'll pray that you'll protect us
from injuries severe.
that we'll give the fans their value
and every cause to cheer.

and make each single act
of either one be fair,
so no who the victor
in the glory both can share.

and if by chance, he floors me
and the canvas i should meet
like simon of cyrene
please help me to my fee.

then should a little glory
some how fall on me
please help me remember
that i owe it all to thee

please help me to go the distance
through rounds with danger rife
not only in the boxing ring
but in the larger ring of life.

so i ask you not for victory....
for some how , that seems wrong,
but only for protection
and the courage to be strong.

strength of mind and body
so i'll fight well
and the referee will raise my hand
at the judgement's final bell.


AUTHOR UNKNOWN

cowzerp

Nice poem, but any for the non believers in fairys, deitys etc?!

barney4001

Boxers Prayer might be more suitable title:D

barney4001

dug up another old poem


The Boxer

By
Ross Dix-Peek



The boxer stands with his gloves at the ready
His gait sure and steady
His eyes aware and to the fore
His mind on the bout and nothing more

But deep within, and on his face written
Are the many scars of a life hard-bitten
And while ne’er shy of a hard-fought fight
There is no longer within the feeling of delight

His face has too oft been made to pay
By an opponent better on the day
And though within beats the heart of a lion
His poor bruised body has given up tryin’

And while a fighter to his very core
Just the smell of gloves now he does abhor
Yet, still he stands, eyes puffed and blood galore
Still ready to wage a pugilist’s war

As blow after blow upon his battered head does fall
He knows but only one way, and that is the brawl
And though his poor body has long since given in
The Spirit of the “Fighter” knows no such thing!

barney4001

Heres an old one

The Nonpareil's Grave
(1)
Far out in the wilds of Oregon, On a lonely mountain side, Where Columbia's mighty waters, Roll down to the ocean side;
Where the giant fir and cedar
Are imaged in the wave,
0' ergrown with firs and lichens, I found Jack Dempsey's grave.
(2)
I found no marble monolith,
No broken shaft, or stone,
Recording sixty victories,
This vanquished victor won;
No rose, no shamrock could I find, No mortal here to tell
Where sleeps in this forsaken spot Immortal Nonpareil.
(3)
A winding wooden canyon road That mortals seldom tread, Leads up this lonely mountain, To the desert of the dead.
And the Western sun was sinking In Pacific's golden wave

barney4001

(UNTITLED) By Pat Lawlor
Sometimes I think it's a lowdown shame
the way I try to hang in this rough, crazy game
My body is aching, my hands and feet are sore.
And I'm getting really tired of pulling myself up off the floor
It all started as a tribute to a friend
But since I won my belt I've been knocked down and down again.
My training, now that's a thing of the past
And if I might go running its not too far and never too fast
I had good fights, like that one in Reno
A good solid win, and then drinks with McGravey and Citrino.
I built a pretty good resume, a kid from the street
Benitez and Duran were two of the big names I beat
At least their the ones I most like to boast and brag,
better than my losses to Norris and Camacho, that fag
I've been up and down and up again and I know my sport through and through.
It's not run by Don King like everybody thinks. It's run by his rival, Bob Arum, a real cheap screw
I'm at the point of my career where I'm dealing with pimps, another one of their whores.
Taking fights on short notice and picking myself off of different arena floors
Who will it be tonight? another young undefeated kid, I go one, maybe two rounds, then BAM -across the apron I skid
It's not like I've been training and have a legitimate chance to win it
When the usher opens the door and yells "LAWLOR YOU'RE UP" I just say to the others "BE BACK IN A MINUTE"
It's the fast money that attracts me, and the traveling's fun, too,
I mean quick cash and a trip to another country.....
I think most people would take it, don't you ??
The times I miss the most are the days with Al and Tom
Citrano would always get me riled up, McGarvey would always keep me calm.
McCarvey was my manager, a good old Irish gent
and all those big fights I had, he never took one red cent
Citrano was my trainer and my buddy and my pal
Although his birth certificate called him Amadeo everybody else just called him Al.
It was a pretty good team we made back then
More memories than I could possibly write down with this pen
But Tom has since retired and Al has passed away
Now the trainer I had last fight wont be the one I have today
They are usually people that just work for the show
I just show up to collect my quick dough.
One of these trips, however, completely changed my life
I went down to Panama to fight Roberto Duran and came back home with a wife.
Not the smartest thing to do, being homeless myself
Better to get a good solid job and put the boxing career on the shelf.
But I'm trying like hell to get her here, so I'm working on a fast money making pace.
I think this fight should do it, enough money to get me a pad
The best birthday present for my daughter Sarah who has every reason in the world to be mad.
Soon it will be all done
my career, the traveling, this so-called fun
I could have been a warehouse worker or a cook on short order.
But I became a local boxing hero, due to my friend Merlin Porter
It was a goal I had set, a tribute to his name
Never did I think it would bring me such fame.
That's all I wanted, was a belt for my Pal
Though I'd like to win one more for McGarvey and Al
Once I've done that I think I could close the door.....
that's all there is, there just ain't no more

Irish Pat Lawlor 2001

gene_tunney

Boxing is rather a tragic subject and goes well with poetry so it's a bit disappointing that those poems are distinctly lacking in quality. I'll have a look around later and see if I can find better ones. Thanks to the OP for putting me onto this topic!