Best Sports Poems By Michael R Burch

Ali’s Song by Michael R. Burch They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so. They say it has a wild, unearthly glow. A man can be more beautiful, more wild. I flung their medal to the river, child. I flung their medal to the river, child. They hung their coin around my neck; they made my name a bridle, “called a spade a spade.” They say their gold is pure. I say defiled. I flung their slave’s name to the river, child. I flung their slave’s name to the river, child. Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong that never called me , did me wrong. A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild. I flung their notice to the river, child. I flung their notice to the river, child. They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun, and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.” At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled. I gave their “future” to the river, child. I gave their “future” to the river, child. My face reflected up, dark bronze like gold, a coin God stamped in His own image—Bold. My blood boiled like that river—strange and wild. I died to hate in that dark river, child, Come, be reborn in this bright river, child. For Ali, Fighting Time by Michael R. Burch So now your speech is not as clear... time took its toll each telling year... and O how tragic that your art, so brutal, broke your savage heart. But we who cheered each blow that fell within that ring of torrent hell never dreamed to see you maimed, bowed and bloodied, listless, tamed. For you were not as other men as we cheered and cursed you then; no, you commanded dreams and time— blackgold Adonis, bold, sublime. And once your glory leapt like fire— pure and potent. No desire ever burned as fierce or bright. Oh Ali, Ali...win this fight! Bruce Lee by Michael R. Burch Try to hit him? You’ll only whiff with this man as elusive as mist. The Man. The Legend. The Myth. Then you’ll feel his furious fists but it’s useless to think to resist: Try to hit him? You’ll only whiff! For you’ll feel the Force as it lifts and you fly through the air like a skiff. The Man. The Legend. The Myth. Friend, give up. Surrender. Desist. For a shadow can only be missed. Try to hit him? You’ll only whiff! Then your ears will soon ring with his riffs as he tattoos your skull with his kicks. The Man. The Legend. The Myth. Many fighters have been left stiff like lemmings gone over the cliff. Try to hit him? You’ll only whiff with the Man. The Legend. The Myth. Keywords/Tags: sports, boxing