Best Boxing Day Poems | Poetry

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New Boxing Day Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Boxing Day poems are below this new poems list.

666 of Boxing Day by Carnegie, Andrew
Boxing Day by Horton, Robert
Boxing Day by Davies, Ivor
Boxing day by Parks, Patrick
Boxing Day by horsman, harry
boxing day by christian, diane

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The Best Boxing Day Poems

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IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS

My abiding memory of 2015 is of events that are so sad With my father’s death, it’s the worst year I’ve ever had It has been the most challenging year for me But with amazing support I remain pretty happy I don’t want to dwell on events that have past My memories of the year 2015 will always last I want to leave the year on a humourous note With a true tale of a gift that didn’t get my vote! Mum and I went out to a local church fete It’s very well attended and the raffle is great We perused all the stalls and brought a few things I got some lemon cake and some brand new earrings The raffle stall bulged with wonderful prizes With boxes that ranged in all shapes and sizes One pretty white gift box really caught my eye Four ‘Dior’ perfume miniatures for a lady to try We brought some tickets then sat and drank tea I said to mum, I’ve seen just the prize for me The raffle got drawn and mum’s ticket was pulled out I collected the prize of Dior perfume without a doubt Mum told me I could have it as a Christmas gift I was overjoyed and it gave my heart a huge lift The gift box was placed under our little tree Its pretty gold ribbon was there for all to see I didn’t open the box on Christmas Day Until Boxing Day the pretty box did stay We were going out to friends later that night I thought my new perfume would be just right Taking the pretty white box from under the tree I pondered which scent would be perfect for me Upon lifting the lid of the perfume box I returned to the school of hard knocks To my consternation and my deep chagrin There was a void where the perfume once had been An empty box was my only present from my mum My gift is that I still have mum, so my poem is done. This is a true story - someone had put an empty box as a raffle prize! Contest: My abiding Memory Sponsor: Viv Wigley 9th January 2016


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS


The Mad Season is now upon
us
Christmas is the ‘buzz word’
The time when women start
panicking
The chaos is really absurd.

The shops are bedecked with
holly
Bright lights and baubles 
abound 
But housewives have time for
no merriment
They’re on the ‘Stress’ 
merry-go-round.

They are manically shopping
for presents
Which then have to be carefully
wrapped,
It’s a tiresome task – Christmas
shopping
When energy is rapidly sapped!

There’s a long list of Christmas
food buying;
The turkey, stuffing and veg,
The baking of innumerable mince
pies
For Santa when he arrives on his
sledge.

The Christmas pud to be 
brandied
The cake to be artfully iced,
Potatoes, Brussels and 
parsnips
Which have to be washed,
peeled and sliced.

There’s the laundering of
piles of bed sheets
For guests when they come
to stay,
And the cooking of a big
‘fry-up’
For those breakfasting the
next day.

The Yule log to make and
the trifle,
With cream, sponges, custard
and jelly.
A woman’s work’s never done
at Christmas,
No time for watching the telly!

There’s the large ham that has
to be boiled,
Salads to prepare with coleslaw,
Whilst the brain is constantly
nagging:
‘What on earth is all this fuss
for?’

The ‘to do’ list goes on for
ever
With the Christmas tree
still to buy,
There’s never a moment to
linger,
Time just keeps whizzing on
by!

Retrieving the dust 
‘decorations’ from the attic,
Arranging the candles on the
fireplace,
Decking the halls out with
holly
And garlands along the 
staircase.

The writing of mass Christmas
cards,
The first ten written with
care,
The rest done with barely a
scribble –
A symptom of festive despair!

Then blotted and put into
envelopes,
Then licked, sealed and 
painstakingly stamped,
And shoved wearily through
the letterbox 
That is already quite over-
cramped!

Christmas Day itself is
Exhausting,
A million more things
still to do,
After cooking the over-
large 
There’s a mountain of
washing to get through!

And when you think that
the worst is all over
And your guests then on
Boxing Day leave,
You are back stressing 
down at the supermarket
To buy MORE food for New
Year’s Eve!

So whilst I’m not really a
killjoy,
I enjoy Christmas as much
as I can,
But if I ever come back
another time in this life
I think I’ll come back as a
man!

BY
DARRYL ASHTON                  
     


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2014


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SALES - Day after Christmas contest

Awoke with a feeling of deflation
The razzamatazz is over pressie’s given
Then a thought arouses me with a smile
Whilst the men watch the sport on this boxing day
A few cans in reach
We females can hit the sales with parking queues for a mile

Like a rugby match the people snatch and run
So much on offer, it’s all in the fun
You don’t try it you buy it cos it’s less than half price
A bargain is a bargain , wouldn’t usually look twice

You go home laden with things you know you’ll return
Was a bargain yet not quite what you yearn
Wearily you slip off your shoes with a big yawn
Food’s in the kitchen, help yourself, this maid is tooo worn

Been a wonderful day,  so different from Christmas
Yet they both need each other to emphasise the past


Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2016


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Special Days

Special Days Written: by Tom Wright 4/13/2006 It seems that for almost everything We’ve set aside a special day. We recognize others for their work And sometimes for their play; There’s a day set aside for Mothers And likewise for Fathers too; I’m sure that in this hodgepodge There’s one that will cover you. There’s a day to honor our Veterans, Our police, firemen and teachers; A National Fan Day even exists For those who fill the bleachers. There is New Years, and Ash Wednesday, And Saint Valentine’s Day too. And yes, the hard working Secretary At last has been given her due. We honor a few past Presidents, Palm Sunday and beginning of Lent; Our calendar has gotten so crowded But Easter Sunday is time well spent. We’ve Christmas, and Thanksgiving And we recognize Flag Day too. Then there’s Martin Luther King Day And I suspect for a Boy Named Sue. Armed forces and Daylight Savings Each has their very own day. Labor Day and Columbus too Are remembered in this special way; We’ve Election Day, and Bosses Day, We honor the Devil on Halloween. And then there’s old St. Patrick’s For the donning of the green; There’s Boxing Day and Yom Kipper And the gobs between I’ve missed. That I classify as the minor ones I could name if you should insist. Birthdays, and Anniversaries, We treat really special too. With all these days to remember Just what is a guy to do? Even old Phil the Ground Hog His day has long been real. It’s enough to cause a country boy To shout, Hey, what’s the deal?


Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2015


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Moral Vs Dream

Moral Vs Dream 

Family cry for Penny 
My dream cry for achievemnt 

Family cry for rid off from responsibility 
My responsibility cry for work 

Family believe live like bunch of 
Bananas 
My bunch of basket is with love 

Family thing about fake values 
My values fake for my dream 

Family never ever give a trusted 
words but fill my pain with their show off 
My show off is to cry for death 

What you think who will win...... 

With love all 
Jagdish bajantri


Copyright © jagdish bajantri | Year Posted 2017


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Pink Clouds

Pink Clouds Great fluffy clouds of pink and light blue, Came in to my dream, no words but I knew, The angels had come to see me again, Part girl and part boy, androgenous men, Seeing both sides, of any view. In fluffy like clouds, with the sun shining through, Old friends from beginning of time, That I knew, had been in the earth, Till their service was done, Feathers due, perhaps they’d leave me one, boxing day 2012 with my mind askew, love conquers all, just between me n you. Don Johnson


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2012


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Unopposed Oxymoron

Unopposed Oxymoron

This poem is light as a heavy contradicting complement
and rhymes with no correspondence of sound sharp at
the cutting horizon’s edge of melting confusing fission

Serious like a foolish jester and in trivial necessity it wants 
to be chimed in disagreement discordant harmony figure
of speech silent shapeless tallies and out into central periphery

Traditional post-modern as an anchor less mooring unbound
a planar linear Oxo cube for poetry soups soaps speechless
rhetoric it says nothing’s everything all for refutation and proof

Cut as a half witted razor blade dull as laser bred dull diamond
the oxymoron in proximal distance joins divisions idiotic
intelligence bland precision in amorphous diffused clarity

I am nothing but and everything as I know to know nothing
where healthy insanity and clear normal madness when 
condensed reflection and prismatic diffusion meets parting

My initial final backfiring telos in idle lazy effort’s endeavour in 
rhyme and in lightness dissonant un-melodic featherless burden
is that being at different places in different times in the same
space and same moment is not an oxymoron but debatable truth

Written on 27th August in Johannesburg dateless timeless 
and nowhere with a blank mind and mindful disregard




Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016


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MY PARTING GIFTS

The time has come for me to say goodbye forever I am not brilliant at expressing my emotions But in the words of ‘Sealion Dion’ …. ‘I will always love you’ If you check in the filing cabinet You will find my portfolio of shares I have kept the Woolworth's certificate it may be valuable They may resurface one day …. That’s the wonder of Woolies! If you ever need a new sofa…. don’t forget these immortal words The DFS Half Price Sale starts at 10am on Boxing Day! Contest:- My Parting Gifts Sponsor:- Viv Wigley 02~06~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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A Fighter's cry

Don't allow him to corner you, punch him hard on his face, kick him hard and make him cry, just one nice smack and the title is all yours. 


These are some of the expressions which I keep on shouting on the top of my voice when I watch brutal combat sports like Muay Thai Kickboxing, Western Boxing (USA), wrestling etc. Unlike other combat sports like Boxing or martial art games such as Karate, Taekwondo ; these sports have much higher degree of violence, witness about 30 – 35 deaths every year and not to mention innumerable fatal injuries.  I cannot help but wonder how these fighters feel after winning their respective matches and crushing their opponents to death, or leaving them in a handicapped state making sure they don't have enough guts to face them again.


In the poem below written by me, I have tried to capture the thoughts of a fighter from my own perspective.

.       I punch you, you punch me,
	I kick you, you kick me,
	Driven by a frantic rush to kill each other,
	Tell me something - O my opponent,
	Do we know each other, you and me?


 Couple of minutes since I first saw your face,
	 Glittering and shimmering, like a rainbow after a rainy day,
	Now it is drenched in your own sweat and blood, 
	And I don’t know why I loathe you so much.


Was it just destiny – your end so near,
	Or you were just a fool, for you had no fear,
	Broken nose, bruised face – you gave me much pain
	In return, I favor you by digging your grave.



Parents, in laws, wife and children – you had many mouths to feed
	Fight against me!!!!
	You should have thought about them before trying this remarkable feat.
	No family, no friends, no money – I have nothing to lose,
	Did you ever think about this, you benumbed fool.


.          This remarkable piece of poetry, you won’t be able to read,
            For you will be busy paying for your deeds,
           Fractured arms and shattered spirit - you will suffer many injuries,
           Because against me there is nothing but miseries.



.                  Every second spent against me you will beg for mercy,
                   You won’t get any, you can trust me on that.
                  No achievements under your belt, its time you make me proud
                   I will set an example for others, by gifting you a shroud.



Copyright © Surya Gupta | Year Posted 2016


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CHRISTMAS ON MY COMPUTER

             CHRISTMAS ON MY COMPUTER
	
1.Attention on my computer!
An intruder detected.
It is not a virus 
It is a strong December aroma
From your cakes you Christians .
It has reached me online
This chilly morning!
Okay,
We all agree today
That 25 December
Is not the exactly date 
When his holiness the king
Was born,
One thing we confess,
He took the mortal body
And made it immortal
For all 
Who believe
And feign to live
Here after.
Merry Christmas!

	
 2. Huuh..!  
   An intruder detected,
It is a strong light
On my laptop screen!
Okay…now!
It is not a virus
It is a beam of light
From your so many
Christmas candles.
So, all of you love Jesus!
We all agree today,	
That no history
Either in the bible or
Elsewhere,
Justifies December 25.
But one thing
We all agree,
His holiness is the king,
Is the God son,
Is our brother,
A very rich person and generous,
A very keen listener 
If we ask beyond doubts,
And the most trusted friend.
Merry Christmas!

3.Attention please!
Something strange
On my computer.
Okay,
Its is not a virus.
It is the images of Christmas trees
With colored flowers
From all angles
Of the world!
So, all of you
Colour baby Jesus?
Too wonderful a victory!
We all agree that Christmas
Is simply a Christian 
Theological fabrication,
Aimed to fill the vacuum
Left in the great events
Of a humbly born king.
But one thing 
We all agree,
He lived among us,
Shared our feelings
And met  these
Same challenges
We daily suffer
Merry Christmas !

4.Jingle bells
For a Christmas day.
Jingle bells because
You are set free.
Jingle bells for a slave
Who is still in the
Satan’s bondage.
Jingle bells to awaken
The sleeping enslaved people
That,
They are now set free
And the devil
 Is bound tight
At the prison’s gate.
Merry Christmas.

5.Jingle bells for Christmas day.
Jingle bells because 
We are the children 
Of the most high.
Jingle bells because
Humanity has been upgraded
To a high level of
Super nature
Above all creations.
Jingle bells
Because we are now
Kings and Queens.

6.Jingle bells because
The history of our doubts,
Cries and sufferings
Is at its end.
Jingle bells because
Jesus will take us all
Around that throne
And say
“I have bought children for you father
With my blood.”
Jingle bells because
We shall see the father,
Shall learn ,
And solve
All  the mysteries
In our doubts.
Jingle bells because
We shall see
Hell no more,
Merry Christmas!












 











   




   
        
     
     
     
     


Copyright © SAMSON MANYALA | Year Posted 2016


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Boxing Day

Christmas day now over,
The turkeys now all dead.
While the bloated celebrators
Sleep their gorging off in bed.

No matter what it cost them.
(Though it cost the turkeys more),
They’d enjoyed the Christmas spirit
They’d invited through their door.

With plastic in their wallets
To finance their spending spree,
They ensured that all they’d purchased
Was on show for all to see.

They let family, friends and colleagues
Know what Christmas really means,
That by spending, spending, spending
You can purchase all your dreams.

Alas for all tomorrows
They may have to scrimp and save,
While the lucky Christmas turkeys
All lie peaceful in their graves!

Ivor G Davies


Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2013


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Elegy 'n' Eulogy for Mohammed Ali Clay

A very famous champion, an inspiring enthusiastic man was he
Who has  now departed , yet is quoted, for many pearls of wisdom
Vociferous king , 
of the boxing ring
A motivating peace star  who shot up to deserved stardom
The earth be proud of such mortal "clay"
Who swayed and reigned hearts, 
as well as the pugilist's kingdom

Notes: about the boxing Great:

These below are the selected facts about Muhammad Ali that I personally found very interesting:
First of all that he had the same birthday as my beloved bro Alihur i.e 17th Jan,

The info below is copied from Wikipedia:
Muhammed Ali Clay
Other names
The Greatest
The People's  champion
The Louisville lip 


Children9, including Laila Ali2]

Awards

5 time Ring magazine fighter of the year3-time lineal heavyweight championSports Illustrated 'Sportsman of the Century'BBC 'Sports Personality of the Century'CSHL Double Helix Medal Honoree (2006)Presidential Citizens MedalPresidential Medal of Freedom[4]International Boxing Hall of Fame[5]Hollywood Walk of Fame[6]


Cassius Clay was born and raised inLouisville, Kentucky, and began training as anamateur boxer when he was 12 years old. At 18, he won a gold medal in the light heavyweight division at the 1960 Summer Olympics in Rome, and converted to Islam shortly afterwards. At 22, he won the WBAand WBC heavyweight titles from Sonny Liston  in 1964. Clay then changed his legal name from Cassius Clay, which he called his "slave name", to Muhammad Ali, and gave a message of racial pride for African Americans and resistance to white domination during the 1960s Civil Rights Movement.[12][13]

He was known to for freestyled with rhyme schemes and spoken word poetry,  boxing and as political poetry for his activism, 


Copyright © S.zaynab Kamoonpuri | Year Posted 2016


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Boxing Day

Boxing Day

Christmas over,
Boxing day,
Snow replaced by rain,
Turkey eaten,
Presents opened,
Bones and wrapping remain.

Silent carols,
Muted bells,
The candles all burned out,
Bottle tops,
Nutshells
And gift tags lay round about.

Glittered cards,
Ribbons and bows,
Tinsel, baubles and more,
Unwanted gifts,
Stale perfume,
All strewn across the floor.

The tree bare,
Bulbs blown,
Forgotten cracker jokes,
Empty bottles,
Hangovers
Santa just some bloke.

Party poppers,
Paper hats,
Plastic Jesus in his stable,
Fallen cards,
Holly leaves
Litter the festive table.

Melancholy 
Mistletoe,
The anti-climax seems sad,
But in my heart
It will always be
The best Christmas I've had.


Copyright © Robert Horton | Year Posted 2015


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tin box

A collector of tin boxes in all shape and disarray.
the older the better but the new welcome too.

It started with a house full of buttons that i will play
look here that one gone escaped the pullover.

In my pocket I will look for the next tin
as my mother knitted the great escape.

Crayon to melt a stamp and shell not gasoline
I alway found the necessary to amuse me.

Now a doyen I open the tins and travel the child
as a homeless I remember the saving of a soul.

Got my house but the tins part of my life
and still searching for the best one.

If such a thing i found today toasted
and discarded the disc for a massive ragga jungle.

A surprise to find what i will put in it
may be a wisp of air to soar the delusion.


Copyright © catherine labeau | Year Posted 2016


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AN ATHLETE'S POEM

It takes a lot of time to master such skill
There are lot of downtimes but I climb on my hill
There are days that my body is strained and about to give up
But I go back to self- determination and rise up

The passion to play runs in my veins
I will train myself hard though it rains
My discipline is as scorching as sun
But I still make my sport a sort of fun

This game is worthwhile and is something even more
The confidence it gives can make my dreams soar
Every accomplishment that I made, my modesty becomes better
Each time I face defeat, my dedication becomes stronger

Winning and losing are faces of reality
But it changes my entire entity
So I keep myself motivated and listen to my coach
The God Almighty Himself will hand me His torch

There is something more than a gold medal hanging on my neck
It is something that no one can ever wreck 
This whole meaningful experience makes me complete
I am very proud that I grow to be an ATHLETE




Copyright © Lei Strauss | Year Posted 2017


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I knew it was Christmas

I knew it was coming up to Christmas when Mom started to stress
About the lack of money and if she could get us all a new dress
I knew it was Christmas Eve when we left Father Christmas a drink & mince pie
& when we went to bed we were told not to peep, but we always risked one eye
I knew it was Christmas morning when we rushed down to find presents, but not too many
There was usually  a doll , a football,  tin of toffees, an orange and a bright shiny new penny
I knew it was Christmas breakfast because it was the only time we had a full English
That crispy bacon, fatty sausage and runny egg, wow what complete bliss
I knew it was Christmas afternoon because Nan got her Advacaat out
Top of the Pops on so loud, “turn that racket down” Grandad would shout
I knew it was Christmas Evening as the relatives would all come for a party
Packed into our tiny home would be cousins, Uncles and Aunties
I knew it was Christmas Party in full swing, as Uncle got out his trumpet
And started to murder songs by Acker Bilk and his hero Herb Alpert,
I knew it was going to get interesting when the men all went into the kitchen to open the 7 pint beer barrel
& the older generation insisted we all sang Carol after Carol
Then Mom and Auntie would get out their bottles of sherry
Auntie’s wig would slip further down her forehead, as she got more & more merry
Eventually my husband came into our lovely family clan
& every year I  knew it was time to call it a night when
He was always the first to “pass out” on the floor
Family would have to climb over him to get to the front door
I knew it was Boxing Day when Nan reached for the Bigmag because of her over indulgence
& the other grown-ups were holding their heads because of their festive involvement
Nowadays Father Christmas has lost a little of his charm & has changed into “Santa”
Who children think can bring toys galore, the price tag doesn’t seem to matter
Kids don’t think of it as a religious celebration, only of what presents they got
It’s such a shame the true meaning of the festive season seems to be lost


Copyright © Linda Fowler | Year Posted 2014


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666 of Boxing Day

Around 29AD, a saviour claimed eternity as a light of future hope,
Recorded or foretold, accepted or rejected, he left a message that stretched,
Across the pages of all mankind, throughout all time, resurrected but neglected,
Simple message of loving each other, each human brother of different mothers,
His birth celebrated as the Christmas story, fading modern memory of God's glory,
Followed here today, by man's invented mystery that holds sway, Boxing day.

England, this Christmas, the country seeks to sever European bonds, held so long,
Whilst in America, a ranting man boxing clever, twitters about his endeavours,
Raising prospects of egotistical vanity, leading more global warming and calamity,
So men can profit from tides of oil, toiling out of national soils,
Whilst what was former seen as wrong, becomes a celebration of nuclear guns,
The six sided scissor of international escalation, celebrating Boxing day.

The United Nations finally gains a hairy chest, beating, in protest,
At Israels long term creeping infiltration of the Palestinian 'situation',
Something happening for so long, that they struggle to see the wrong,
Whilst Indian 'Agni' flies into the sky, creating international surprise,
Nuclear proliferation, whose celebration pressures China's order,
Boxing day fissions claiming protection of national borders.

The dragons tail thats been shaken hard by the Trump card,
Sends Liaoning carrying bristles close to Taiwans missiles,
Tensions increase in that vicinity, a Sushi of Japanese intrigue,
Cupped upon Korea's compass of doubts, both North and South,
Such that as before, we have ingredients of Castro and Kennedy,
Bringing us boxing clever towards the edge of ultimate war.

Underpinning divestment of all vestments of peace,
Social movements, 'ism' of fascism and rascal hatred,
A racoon of burglarised surprise, its clear demarkation, greyed doubt,
Chanting hatred, ranting hatred, all bought broth bubbling up,
The gloop of human kindness, now dunked into the bread of misery,
Upon our streets, Boxing day feet, urinated upon as sub human.

Will we now move onwards, sideways, lie ways, hate ways,
Bywords for the absurd consumer driven derision that hosts moguls,
Upon hard petards of media flagged standards, we back as we lack,
Entering a dark period, all nights see Northern lights of mans making,
With earth shattering shaking, despoiling our soils, claiming ownership,
Of this rented Boxing day, saying we won the sixth of Revelation?
@Andrew Carnegie


Copyright © Andrew Carnegie | Year Posted 2016


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New Years Resolution

My New Year’s resolutions
I made on a cold Boxing Day
Didn’t provide all the solutions
They all slowly faded away.
I’d go to the gym to lose weight
I said with eager passion
But that was only tempting fate
The telly is such a distraction.
I’d get a dog and walk round the park
That would soon get me slim and fit
We’d get up and rise with the lark
And find the nearest bench to sit.
But a dog I would have to feed
And take it sometimes to the vet
And I don’t know what type, or breed
I’ll buy a bike, it’s a safer bet.
But with a bike I could get run over
By a truck, a bus or a car
Or a farmer with tatty Land Rover
I’ll stay at home, it’s safer by far.
I’ll stop eating a donut or two
And cut down by a gallon of beer
And think of what else I can do
Then put it off for another year.


Copyright © David Wood | Year Posted 2016


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Santa Claus aint no has been,

Santa Claus aint no has been,
 until ole boxing day, 
love your poetry its a dream,
 keep em coming Mystic, hey
 xox....Don

{MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS{
thank you Mystic Rose


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2015


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Surprise in Disguise

The biggest gift under the tree
was a box full of boxes
each of six, all wrapped but empty.

By the time he'd opened the seventh
and read the enclosed clues,
he was ready for any surprise.
Never suspecting Mom would choose
tickets for his favorite sport.

January 14th, Barclays' Center for hard knocks, 
featuring Badou Jack and James DeGale.
He's going to Brooklyn to watch them box.


written December 27, 2016
for contest, Out of the Box by Kai Michael Neumann


Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016


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life is short

Life is short
A day has passed
An hour is gone
A minute is consumed
A second still counts
Months have been washed away by rain

A heartbeat is still beating
Slowly but surely 
Waiting for that moment to come
A mother,a father, a sister and a brother very weak
Longing for the day
When the heartbeat will stop

A voice saved
Last words from her mouth
Coming out bit by bit
Tears of their loved ones,dripping and drenching from their faces,really heartbroken
Torn apart,last day with her,last kiss,last word and then all shuttled down and chapter closed all because life is short..


Copyright © Nonhlahla Nonduma | Year Posted 2016


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Come Out Swinging

The field is full and the crowd is primed
Scream and cries rent the air electric
The mood is part sacrifice part slaughter
The smell of ritual repentance hangs heavy
Defeat floats around caressing the fringes
The bell clangs in preparatory adjudication
Sweet science of massacre in full flight
Adrenaline rivers rush and over flow
Bursting dams of timid cowardice
Fear grips tight in vicious vice
Blood tastes tease molars and pallets
Blood drops singe hearts like bullets
The countdown is on and Cain is raised
The frenzy is now full bedlam chaos
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Seconds to go round 1!
Second to go round 1!
Repeats like a terrible echo
Leaden legs attempt to loosen
Arm raised with sinewy determination
Sweat drips in torrid anticipation
Months of welcoming hills and hell
Welcoming torture and torment
Welcoming bruises and bunion
Lift ! Jab ! Weave ! Hurl ! 
Do not drop ! Do not drop !
Just come out swinging
With everything little thing you’ve got !



Copyright © Omenge Nyamato | Year Posted 2016


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Haiku 139

I talked and moved fast 
I fought 'Uncle Sam ' and chumps 
I'm still the 'The Greatest '


Copyright © Stewart Watkins | Year Posted 2016


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I'm Sorry

I am sorry for the agony I caused you,
I feel so wicked.
I'm sorry,
 I'm not perfect and I make mistakes.
Please forgive me.
I took it all for granted,
 I'm sorry to say.

I'm sorry but I adore you,
I'm sorry if I miss you.
I'm sorry I can't be that perfect man
You’ve always dreamed of.
I'm sorry for bothering you.
I just wanted to tell you...
I'm sorry for the pain I caused you.

I'm sorry.
Please forgive me
For all the wrong I've done.
Please come back home my love.
I know you have no trust in me,
I'm sorry to let you down.
I wish I could be what you want, 
But I can't and I’m sorry.


Copyright © Yuhi Musinga | Year Posted 2016


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The Last Inning

It's the last inning no one wanting more to be at bat
  both unwilling to give in or recognize what it's truly all about
she refuses to be sidelined or hesitate spewing word phat
  he claims calm, subdued rhetoric thinking we'd forget prior word spouts
neither fully saint nor sinner, clearly no one a real winner.


Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2016