Best Brawl Poems
This is the brawl in which my life began
For I did not live, did not become a man
Until I could speak in the chaos of the crowd
Ran with smoky eyes
Beside the living love of a fellowman
While police dogs sniffed our heels
And bit the butt of our debates
Leaving only mangled arguments
About decisions being made for us.
Today in London I measure growth
In the fraction of our blood
That flowed more like rivers before
And always I remember the taste of salt
The natal blood on my tongue
God's own symbol of my redemption
Each time I am born
So this fire alone I come fearless
Of death, longing to be born again.
The poker game wuz progressin' purty well 'til Iron Mike started a ruckus!
Seems he had some spare aces up his sleeve, that dirty, sneaky cuss!
One-Eyed Pete didn't cotton to them shenanigans and drew his forty-four!
Iron Mike jumped up, toppled chairs and tables a-skedaddlin' fer the door!
That started the biggest brawl that the town uv Buckskin Joe had ever seen!
The mob wuz yellin' fer Iron Mike's head but he had prudently fled the scene!
One-Eared Earl, the barkeep, fired his rods a-tryin' to restore some order.
Meanwhile, Iron Mike wuz racin' on a stolen hoss fer the Mexican border!
The pianner player kept playin', "A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight!"
('Twas Three-Fingered Clyde who tickled the keys fer free booze ever' night!)
Big Nell, who belted out bawdy songs each night, wuz involved, fists a-flyin'!
She busted some noses and shattered some teeth, and I ain't a-lyin'!
A dozen er so uv Madam Rosita's soiled doves joined in the fray as well,
A-kickin' and a-scratchin' and pullin' hair and generally raisin' 'ell!
There wuz so many shots fired that night, it seemed like war had started.
Many drunks awoke the next day to find that thar hair had been parted!
Studs Flanigan, the bouncer, wuz trampled as the fight spilled out on the street.
This sensitive affair caused a deeper rift between the rabble and the town's elite!
So as not to hear the fussin' and cussin', moms covered their kids tender ears.
Old-timers claimed they hadn't enjoyed sech a show in Buckskin Joe fer years!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Super colourful brawl at the bowling green
You should have seen the BLUE today,
Down at the bowling GREEN?
It happened when Old Man MAUVE mistook
What the WHITE ball was meant to mean.
And Mr BROWN, who ran the place,
Seeing what happened, turned a rusty RED,
He stood, fuming with his sun BRONZED skin,
With perfect SILVER hair, he brusquely said:
“You can take your PURPLE bowling set
And shove it with your wrinkly PINK”.
He then slipped on Mrs VIOLET'S shoes,
Made of Italian MUSTARD leather, I think.
Then it was on, the GOLDEN day at the lawn,
The balmiest BLACK brawl ever seen.
CREAM cakes were thrown and tea was spilt,
A most colorful day on the GREEN.
A most unlikely, mismatched pair
For forty years did breakfast share.
Their names were Stretch, at eight feet tall,
And Squat, built like a bowling ball.
Because of their unique physiques,
By people they were labeled freaks.
Though of each other less than fond,
They formed a necessary bond.
Rejected by society,
Their morning meal soon came to be
A welcome rite for lonely lives
Bereft of children, friends, and wives.
As company they filled a need,
But often griped and disagreed.
For common interests had they few
And discontentment slowly grew.
Unknown is how it came about,
But then one day a fight broke out.
Their broken dishes on the floor,
The aging duo went to war.
"I'll squash you like a bug," roared Stretch.
"I'm sick of you, you little lech!"
"I'll cut you down to size," screeched Squat.
"You're dumb and dull, you snotty sot!"
Then Squat did run and taunt and bite
And throw at Stretch with all his might.
And Stretch did kick and curse and swat,
Determined to demolish Squat.
Avoiding Squat's erratic throws,
Stretch swung but missed the midget's nose.
Attempting to stomp Squat in vain,
He felt severe arthritic pain.
While dodging Stretch's errant blows,
Squat tried to crush the giant's toes.
And speeding to bite Stretch's knees,
His asthma made him gasp and wheeze.
It was a most unseemly sight,
A feckless geriatric fight.
Before one minute had elapsed,
The spent combatants both collapsed.
When he arose and left, said Stretch,
"Tomorrow doughnuts I will fetch."
Departing, too, responded Squat,
"And I'll prepare the coffee pot."
No man is left, nobody is lost
Good time is there but struggle is all
You need, yourself, for you to haul
It is time to rise and face the brawl
Hindrance everywhere you get to own
No one is there to comfort your soul
Even the closest by them all
Will leave you alone and try to mold
If you want to encounter the whole
Then learn how to fight alone
For the moment I merely watched him
Running back and forth in his home
I am patient you see
I am full of time plenty
I am the sly one in the darkness and I am hungry
So I waited, all day I waited,
All night I waited, I waited, waited, waited
And in the morning he came out of his house
I waited no more
I struck like a black bolt of lightning streaking down from the heavens
As if Death itself had ripped across space to sever everything with its scythe
I screamed down from heaven and struck
Only to find him leaping up and over me
To tumble in the air and land behind me
I landed in a crouch...
Peering around over my shoulder I gleamed at him
He for his sake I saw glaring back at me balefully with eyes and one hand beckoning me
I snarled
Spun around and lashed out with my whip as I did
He ducked it,
With the speed of sound my fist struck him
He blocked it
Out came my foot, and then the other
He evaded the first, and caught the second
I rolled and struck him across his face with the first
Again I landed on my feet
He staggered back and with a back flip he was ready once more...
He wiped his nose with one hand
Bade me come at him again with the other
A sly half grin on his lips
I charged this impudent fool
Changed direction, spun around
Out came my whip
Out came my foot
And he leaped over my whip
Flipped between my foot
And struck me twice with his own
light kicks to the face meant to shock me more than hurt me
We parted and circled each other
Looking for openings in the other's defenses
And there because I am patient I found it
A chink in his armour of skill and technique
He was mine
Again I rushed him in one smooth fluid motion
Twin kicks, the whip, my fists, and head butt, knees and elbows
In blinding fury, speed and in the space between thought it was over...
He retreated blocking the kicks,
Ducking the whip,
Avoiding the fists left then right
Catching the head butt in his hands
Countering the knees with his knees
The elbows with his elbows
And then...
He did the impossible
He
Defeated me
Rolling backwards he slammed my head into the wall,
Sliding from beneath my crumpling body with his feet
To stand ready inches from my limping body
I remember thinking then as my eyes closed to the world
"That's one damn tough hamster," I get out of the Kitty Clinic in two days
I want a rematch
Persons should be shopping at this mall.
This is not a place for anyone to have a brawl.
I see teenagers engaging in a big fight.
To have these types of altercations is not right.
The holiday shopping period is now past.
Let's not have these donnybrooks occur and last.
Adults and children must attend this mall in peace.
Have all unnecessary physical disputes immediately cease.
The lady Belle got into a brawl
She yelled and fell in a shameless sprawl
She met the bare floor
with her pinafore
Baring cleavage for one and for all
Brawl In Maul Horn Haiku
After brawl in maul
When prices began to fall
Bills had become tall.
What we will need you
To do when my poems are through
Love them that is true.
Greatest poems are now
Do you think maybe somehow
To love them should vow.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Basically I am a person, very nice
Outside green inside warm and red
With a small mouth and a round face
I roll over around on this globe, great.
I was rolling smoothly over the hills
And valleys and on a good poetry page
Till I met a women with a sharp knife
Who trolled stray in flared up rage.
She first snarled then picked up a fight
I just said on a poem of another poet
This is fine yet it should be deep and wide
As I wanted to bring out his quality, the best.
The lady with a pimp came up and wrote
We did not get what you meant to say
This one is a beauty and a piece perfect
With all the qualities and fantastic word play
You never get and what I mean, I replied
She became furious and called me arrogant
I stopped rolling and stood like an elephant
But before she stabbed me and my dignity
On the ground I had pulled down her pant.
Snapped down shirts, scuffed up boots
Puffing larger than life chests
Dime-store pokes, showing colors
Peacock struts and sailor jokes
Twangs from the jukebox
Begging for two-steps
Cheap draws flowing
Cue sticks chalked and
Propped on end.
Balls on the felt waiting to roll in corners
A quick spit, one more shot of Crow
Then eyeing, sizing, and circling like
Brigands in the woods,
Angling the bank, then with a bend
And swift slide of stick-
One stripe in the pocket
Quick tilt of hat, a strut and swell
Another snap-click and cue ball falls
Side glance and a snort
One quick shove and the gloves are off
Suds, fists, and blood
Well hell... Another good night ends with
"Last call for alcohol!"
That's all it was
a backstage argument
a backstage brawl
a backstage heartbreak
a backstage backhand to the face
that's all it was,
a scream from the angels above
to be let out and feared among everyone.
She went stage left
and I went stage right
as the curtain went down
the audience applauded
and the lights faded
and that was it was,
one night, a backstage brawl,
fists flew
and kisses were denied
and black eyes were everywhere.
Smartasses lost their wits,
protecting her,
and they found themselves
getting up off the ground.
I was lost and gone,
angels screamed, "STOP IT!!"
But they told me to stop,
and I didn't because I didn't want to.
Dumb girls
dumb fools
protecting dumb girls
and I was the only smart one,
to stand up and not get my heartbroken,
breaking noses and cutting eyes in half
with fists full of fury,
I couldn't handle it much anymore.
STOP IT! still rings in my head,
but I don't care anymore,
I hate them
and they hate me,
I'd rather be loved by myself,
than to have another love me
just to have them stab me in the back later.
All snakes in the grass... cant even imagine,
what beautiful gardens they lay low in, ready to attack...
And that's all it was,
a backstage brawl,
away from the audiences eyes,
now that would be a show to perform.
Real life.
I was working my way north through Kansas,
selling hot dogs at a traveling fair,
the pay wasn’t great, but it was still a job,
and I met all sorts of people there.
We’d set up for a week near Wichita,
when some bikers decided to stop by,
they stood out in leather, with their skull rings,
one of them was even missing an eye.
Of course this same fair, to entertain crowds,
had brought in dance troupes of every single kind,
and two dozen clog dancers walked by my stall
when the bikers had some bad things in mind.
They started taunting the two-dozen souls,
laughing at their clogs and their costumes,
challenged the manhood of the male dancers
until the whole of the troupe raged and fumed.
This just made the lead biker laugh more,
cry,”What are you gonna do know, pansy?”
From the lead dancer flew a wooden show,
which knocked the biker right off of his feet!
A switch was thrown, and the bikers charged in,
I thought no dancer would survive this day,
but they took their clogs in hand like clubs,
bellowed loudly and dashed into the fray.
Punches were thrown and blades slashed about,
wooden footwear clubbed down brutally,
a biker flew into my poor hot dog stand,
at the last second I leapt to get free.
In the roar of the melee time slowed and sped,
the crush of fists left the whole world spinning,
and the damndest thing, amidst all the blood,
the middle-aged clog-dances were winning!
Then lights were flashing, police cars drew near,
both parties broke away and took flight,
I poked my head up in time to be asked
by a cop,”Which side started the fight?
I told them all that I had seen gone on,
when done I quickly jumped into my car,
Ffguring I had no job to go back to
I drove into town looking for a bar.
I found one near the local airport,
and went in so I could relax a bit,
only to find the bikers and clog-dancers
drinking beers and burying the hatchet!
It was hard to believe any such foes
could have put it all behind them that fast,
but as they shot pool I saw in their eyes
the respect of those equally bad-ass.
I finished my drink, then headed on north,
needing to find a new way to make coin,
which is how I found that one polka band
who took down the city of Des Moines…
Spit, Spot, Spick and Span,
Hit Haugh Hick with cane,
dirty dark drunken brawl,
was no need for it at all,
Police caught Spot and Span,
Spit and Spick ran as they can,
Haugh Hick’s wife saw them skip,
tackled them with a Karate kick,
Spit cut his lip while Spick hurt his ....
ambulance came to Haugh Hick pick!
in prison cell they were bundled in,
in remorse they rubbed their chin,
said Spit, Spot, Span and Spick
“Never take on a karate chick!!!”
Tongue twister poetry contest
Joe Sadler sponsored
Written 24/12/2020
Blazing flames of wild rage
burning heart like a coal.
Bold abusive curses
boiling blood like diesel.
Blatant hot arguments
broiling brains into fumes.
Brawl ends with rued ashes!
Date: 05/01/2018