Hey, Rocky
A tangled view, with fighting inclination
Bloodshot eyes cut through, so they can see
Once a champ with hopes of a big comeback
A title fight is where he wants to be
Fists of fury, though slowed down since youth
A pension he will have, if not a prize
A wheelchair awaits the aged legs of the fighter
If all permits, by round three he doesn’t die
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
