Best Boxers Poems
Lord,let my legs move,
so i can walk to the middle of the ring,
let my arms work hard
to gather many points.
Lord,let my ears hear,
so i can listen to my coach,
lt my waist bend,
to move from the punches.
Lord, let my eyes see,
so that i can look into my opponets eyes.
let my mind think
of what to do next.
Lord, let my heart beat
to keep me pushing myself further
let my lungs breathe
to keep me alert and ready.
Lord, let me stay positive,
so the end is a mystery,
let me stay safe,
to walkout of the ring.
Lord, let me try my best,
so that i know i put 110%
let my coach be surprised in the end,
to know that i've come out on top again
.
To hit hard
and not to be hit,
boxers believe
each jab and hook
and straight to chance
they just can't leave.
Yeah, with punches,
it's better to give
than to receive!
.
Dancing in my boxers till the break of dawn
So invigorating and joyful, like a lithe wee fawn
Pirouettes and pliés
Like a joyful ballet
My troubles and strife are suddenly begone
It's quite a dilemma
You've posed on us guys
It's one or the other
But I don't know why
I quite love them both
But for choice I am glad
I think it depends
If I'm happy or sad
The freedom of boxers
Can bring me much joy
My parts swing freely
I could pose for Playboy
But wearing my tighties
I feel so secure
When I'm wearing tight jeans
I'm all male for sure
I guess what I'm saying
Can't choose 'tween the two
But whichever I wear
Sure hope it pleases you!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Dancing in my boxers till the break of dawn
So invigorating and joyful, like a lithe wee fawn
Pirouettes and pliés
Like a joyful ballet
My troubles and strife are suddenly gone
The Greek and Roman athletes
Wore studs of iron on each hand;
Beating and clawing each other,
Like two tigers on the sand.
The English called it boxing first,
To pound someone with your fist.
Mostly it was done for money
But sometimes by those just pissed.
Matches of the bare-knuckle days
Lasted fifty rounds or more,
'Till one man's towel would be thrown in
As he lay upon the floor.
Boxers now use soft leather gloves,
With their hands wrapped in cotton,
Wearing a mouthpiece for teeth and lips;
They fight like those forgotten.
A friendly boxer up in Green Bay
counsels townsfolk day after day
A sagacious old dog
with a website and blog
He advises: Less work and more play!
The FIRST round
of the fight
began evenly
matched.
But then, that look...
THAT LOOK
knocked
me
out.
Boxers
by M. Griswold
01032001
Me little wee be a little a wagg’n.
Swing’n over me little a bagg’n.
It’s a flipp’n round, to and fro.
Bounce’n off me legs, don’t ya know.
It be a jounce’n from left to right.
Cause me boxers are loose, they ain’t tight.
There be to much motion ago’n on down there.
For me wee be aroused and think’n its lighter than air.
All this commotion an rubb’n be an embarass’n thing.
Specially when me wee pops out of me boxers, flangity fling.
Me wonders if it's all worth the freedom me wee does feel.
For me wee has it’s own mind and reacts with a great zeal.
He hops around
'Cause he can't fly,
Tries to put on boxers
Then he starts to cry.
He thinks he's a human
Instead of a meal,
I think he walked off my table
"Hey, what's the deal?"
He trips and he falls
Lands on the floor,
The boxers land on his head
He feels rather sore.
Now that his eyes are covered
He can't see a darn thing,
Runs into the back door
Across the room, the boxers fling.
He finally gives up
And sprawls on the floor,
Has a lump on his noggin'
I thought I might have heard him swore.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Aug.20/2005
Send us one hundred and fifty dollars
And we'll send you a year's worth of gayly printed boxers
They will make you proud
Prancing around in a crowd
Oblivious to the stares you'll get at the doctors
Some girls’ eyes were fastened on Dennis
Doing wonderful Tennis
In boxers poorly screening ,
Much to the dismay of his First Niece,
His sometimes-raging, Girlfriend Eunice,
A Christian Mother he’d rendered service
But not to Arch Enemy Elvis
With him competing in their office…
“For long have I been expecting this
From a man who’d named me Novice”
There has never been a southpaw,
Who has the crushing show made poor;
Each in the ring a carnivore,
His left hook, his wasting death jaw,
Your swollen eyes already a law
Before the last bout on the floor.
A lateral body positioning
That The Left Thing keeps conditioning,
From the ring catapulting a victim
To an international hospital
And from its ward to its mortuary:
So, it had been with Callous Etim,
From a fight to a celebratory rental
And a speeding-up of his obituary.
South paws still have been licked
By the Maverick Right-Handed,
When they have such boldly picked
For the blows hatefully landed.
Pacquiao saying it was going to be Mayweather
And meeting with a bit of bad weather.