Best Fighter Poems
More interesting the way you wrestle
never meaning hurt..
flirting.., with a skillfull mind
and matching tongue.
Twice as agile your swift feet, gleeful toes,
play like little lady fingers, jabbing,
bobbing and weaving in the morning sun.
What a change I witness when the gloves come off..
colors raised in stormy impassioned eyes.
So many dimensions,
when you go hard..
even more uncovered..
when you go soft.
Light coral shaded lips,
paler still long neck, brimming in fire.
Oh, how the veins sing to me..
though quietly now,
grow insistent.
Getting close, like a creature
not used to light.
A waterfall effect lost
in finest peach hair fields, many
curves and valleys explored
in mosquito nets of night.
Endlessly curious to know,
what a fighter wants..
what a fighter needs,
in love.
Return now from the ropes-
to knock me off.
My eyes anxiously await a detente
when yours turn soft.
As beams through blinds half-open softly play
on mottled skin, and helpless, she depends
on doctors and on nurses, none allay
her growing agony that never ends.
Her dread is looming larger. She can’t rest!
She clings to life and ponders soberly
the reasons for and answers to this test.
There has to be some recourse she can’t see
beyond what they’ve endeavored yet to do!
What lesson has she not already learned
with all the many hardships she’s gone through?
She prays to have this last page left unturned,
but then that page is lifted, for that night
a breeze blows in - Her soul to God takes flight.
A Fighter Like A Broken Heart
With pain that racks his body
defeat is on his mind.
Blood drips from his nose and lip
his left eye beaten blind.
He falls just like a timber
on a cold and stormy night.
A fighter like a broken heart
in a never ending fight.
He thinks about a simpler time
his father and his mother.
Blows keep falling just like rain
one round after another.
Then suddenly it's over
the battle's reached its end.
The fighter like a broken heart
can now take time to mend.
But life is like an ocean
with the secrets it contains.
And rivers for so long now dry
its memory remains.
Every dream that's found worth dreaming
worth all we must go through.
And every fight worth fighting
to see that dream come true.
Through the sorrow of defeat
and the ring of victories laughter.
A fighter like a broken heart
is stronger not long after.
So be strong and of good courage
as you rise up from a fall.
He who has the most to gain
is he who risks it all.
Edwin C Hofert
My spirit is a fighter
determined, never-say-die
The devil tries to deter me
scoffs: Why even bother to try?
I see a mountain above me
towering over the clouds
A wee voice anxiously warns me
Only way to return -- in a shroud
But my spirit is a born climber
nothing if not courageous
Daring danger to defeat him
he maps out a climb for the ages...
I espy swirling waters below me
in which a young lad flails away
Can I swim? Does it matter? --
I've been selected to save the day
My spirit prods me to jump in
grab the boy and struggle to shore
Alive and happy, if exhausted
prepared for the coming encore...
Yes, my spirit is a fighter
determined, never-say-die
taking on every new challenge
looking it square in the eye
____________________________
Entry in 'The Human Spirit' contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
~ September 13, 2022 ~
I'm a lover not a fighter,
I'm a fighter not a fool.
I won't surrender inalienable rights,
To Washington's Marxist tools.
I'm a lover not a fighter,
I'm a fighter not a fool.
I won't abide the liar's,
In the main stream media pool.
I'm a lover not a fighter,
I'm a fighter not a fool.
I know that God in Heaven,
Will ultimately rule.
Taliban fighter
Mind in a whirl
For love of his god
Shoots teenage girl
Places his bullet
Coldly in her head
Taliban fighter
Leaves her for dead
Medieval mind
Full of bigotry and hate
With twisted views
Centuries out of date
Taliban fighter
Don't you think it odd
Although you claim
You did it for your god
This little girl
Is still alive
Very good chance
She will survive
Taliban fighter maybe
In your god's eyes
You're a low creature
Loathed and despised
Taliban fighter
You bring much shame
By your acts supposedly
In your god's very name.
Taliban fighter
I think it too late
For any chance
To re educate.
Taliban fighter it would
Be better if you were dead
From well aimed bullet
Placed deep in your head.
When a dog is mad
You don't hesitate
But quickly and mercifully
Exterminate
After about three days
I realized that I felt better
And I was terrified
Because that just means
That I have successfully turned up the volume
In my headphones so loud
That I drowned out every last thought I had
When I realize that it is a good day
I wonder how far "good" goes
Because that same day I wake up in the middle of the night
With an anxiety attack
Blood rushing, heart beating
I remembered that I was still alive
And the only reason it was still a good day
Is because I fought it
I remember that I would rather be under water
Struggling and fighting to get back to the surface
Is better than being at the surface on a canoe
Thinking about how I wouldn't care
If it tipped over and I couldn't get back up
I want to tell you this
I want to tell you that the canoe is tipping
I wrote out the text I wanted to send you
And deleted it before I could send it
Like screaming for help
In a soundproof room
FIGHTER PILOT
So you are a fighter pilot in one of today’s latest jets.
Tell me what it is like to fly, to fight and to die in the air?
All of the crushing g-forces and dizzying changes
of direction happening all at once.
I bet that there’s no glory in your battles,
only pain, mutilation and death.
But this is your game, an aerial ballet
of chess where the victors come home
and the vanquished cease to exist.
I’d like to see what you see just for a day,
to experience what it is like to be a fighter pilot.
Irish Micky Ward.
His fists were a gift from the lord.
He weathered each punch with defiance.
Now he'll donate his brain to science.
For most of his
Bumming around days
He was lost
In dead end jobs
Once in the gym
He became a silhouette of youth
Weaving like a cobra
Slipping
Countering
Learning how to hook
Footwork and poise
A moving target
Possessing speed
And brutal power
Waiting
To connect
On
Flesh and bone.
All his life
He searched for what was missing
His dream
Was to be champion
Months
Years of solitary training
Was the price he gladly paid.
The ring waited
Patiently
Knowing that he lived for the moment
When all was a blur
Of sudden activity
Moving shadows
And the roar of the crowd.
Years go by
Another decade
Another time
The city moves on
In a singular rhythm all its own
For him
Time now stands still
In a quiet place
Of warm sunlight
Streaming through an open window
A place of
Old fight posters
And faded photographs.
He won a title
Had good times
Some laughs
Traveled with an entourage
Met the famous
Parties came and went
And so did his money.
Holding the yellowed clipping
The old thrill
Returned
He felt strong again
The bright lights were on
The roar of the crowd
Was louder than he ever remembered
The smart money and the ladies were in front
All eyes on him
Bobbing and weaving in the empty gym
He stopped to catch his breathe
Raising his hands in triumph
He knew that in the bottom of his gut
No matter what anyone said or did
In the ring
He had fought and lived like a champion.
. . . …. ….. . .
He lays his head on grass, breathing the sky
A rhapsody of hues trumpets rest day.
Blue Mountains, a lush parade like sun’s dye
Sweeping over hills wafting minted spray,
A mantle of fog drapes wedge peas up high,
While bobs roam in a space of home’s fresh ray.
Here, a man holds a gaze from wetlands call,
Inhaling lyrebird songs as wind chimes toll
Riding on colt, hooves paddle the creek floor
But clear peace is disturbed by crackling sounds
While magpies burst from trees, ready to soar
The air smells of smoke, the man quickens few rounds;
Scenes of Katoomba flames thump in mind’s core
Reminded by the burnt spread on forest mounds.
A pledge of honor to guard range of Oz
Is his code to keep wildlife from wrath’s cross
Amazed, wombats loudly screech on a hole
Teasing gums to play as they blow gray mist
A choir of mixed notes rattling like popped coal
The gorge answers with a lyrical twist,
Firefighter grins with joy in his soul
Winding sweet hours cradled and dusk-kissed.
Clouds caress his ride, graced by Mountain cruise
All is safe through music of the bush
(c)
. ……… . .
*In 2011, Blue Mountains (in Katoomba town) was threatened
by a wild blaze that was eased and controlled by a hundred
brave fire fighters of Australia. This is dedicated to the 100 rescuers
who saved this region listed as a World Heritage Area by UNESCO.
A pleasure to have visited this wonder a few years ago.
Tracie Edwards’ A Lil' Bit of Aus Contest
Memories of War
Flashing in front of His eyes
My Hero -- The VET
Last night I dreamed an awful dream
My hero he was dying
It left an emptiness inside
I felt my Spirit crying
See somewhere on this road through life
There just ain’t no denying
The souls we meet
Are meant to be
The Wings to keep us Flying
You lift me when I’m weary
With a gentle guiding hand
A parable of love and truth
So I may understand
There’s a light there in the distance
If I take the time to look
And the Darkness in the Shadows dies
Like the closing of a book
Some falter at the ending
Some stray out of the light
The page of life’s eternal
And the story’s yours to write
As I gazed into those eyes of blue
Those windows to your soul
I witness life and wonder
In a body that’s grown old
I can’t help but feel a sadness
And a loss when days were warmer
An enptiness inside when
You’re no longer in my corner
Sing songs of hope and wisdom
Even Blake would take a bow
If he’d looked, below and seen the man
He’d helped to shape somehow
A grain of sand, beneath lifes shoe
A rock, to something less
A mountain high, in skies of blue
A haven for to rest
There’s a cup of tin you carry
In the hands of each of us
That’s brimming full of happiness
Awaiting up above
You’re a prophet, spilling secrets
Though it’s led your soul to bleed
The ink upon the paper
Is the only truth I need
The prize was always yours you see
Your name’s etched on that belt
And Jesus knows you’re weary
From the hand that life has dealt
When weary’s got your number
Still we love you one and all
‘Cos you stood there in our corner
For each stumble, trip or fall
A brother to the fallen
A father to the lost
Humanity, in your every way
And a friend, at any cost
So fill your lungs with freedom
‘Cos you’ve made the final round
Hell knows the tank is empty
With the seconds counting down
A hundred thousand friends of yours
Are screaming in your corner
Each lifted and elated
‘Cos, we know you’ve played a stormer
It’s time now to surrender
For you’ve paid your dues on Earth
A healing balm, of love and calm
Awaits, to salve the hurt
My little fighter
Your memory isn't any lighter.
The way you cocked your head,
And for tasty treats you plead.
You loved to tumble in the grass,
And stole sweets from a kid in my class.
When lying on my bed,
You'd curl up on my lap
There you'd take a little nap.
Chasing cars was your game,
But you always came when I called your name.
You were my one eyed pirate
Far greater than hudini.
Never will there be a pack
More sacred than that
Of a little girl and loyal friend
My little fighter
Your memory isn't any lighter. .
But one day we'll meet again.
In loving memory of my first pet a little foxi cross malteese terrier named Cola?
In this world of strife and troubles
it’s so difficult to stand on one’s own
we all need someone on our side
left to oneself depressed one is prone
There is one out there to fight
on our behalf that’s to be sure
truly He will stand for us
He’ll overcome always to endure
The almighty God is that one
He is all powerful mighty and strong
near by our side He truly is
a greater force than King Kong
This God will fight all our battles
victory for us is definitely assured
this brings peace to our hearts
the restlessness within is cured
So put your trust in God alone
keep your eyes focused on the Lord
He’s the one to bring you through
cutting all down by the divine sword
(‘Our God will fight for us’ Nehemiah ch4 v.20b )