Best Punching Poems
two bible-blabbering, prattling pastors
from two denominational sectors
ended up in stitches and bloody plasters;
those around said it actually began
when one yelled, "faith alone can save a man!",
the other screamed, "only charitable acts can!";
swinging bulky bibles, shouting curses,
they whacked each other's eardrums and noses,
bludgeoned and bloodied their righteous faces;
so ironic, how they maimed each other
for faith, for charity and didn't bother
to heed the Lord's words: "Love one another."
The Punching Bag - Through the Eyes of a Child
Each day the pattern was the same,
for all Dad’s shortcomings, my Mom got the blame.
WHACK! He cursed her for all his lost dreams…
WHACK! For missed opportunities, and failed schemes.
WHACK! Dad would hit his punching bag again,
to release all his pent-up frustration and pain.
When he felt inadequate and couldn’t cope with life,
he resorted to battering Mom, his “beloved” wife.
Of course, it was always her fault that things were bad;
so he made her suffer for all the troubles he had.
Inflicting her with insults, black-eyes, concussions, and cuts,
he claimed that she deserved them because she was like all sluts.
Craftily he played on her bully-enforced meekness,
getting down on his knees to beg for her forgiveness.
Moods swinging like a pendulum from night to day,
his promises were empty - he would never change his vile ways.
Predictably, he continued to torment her as he pleased,
degrading and abusing her…he never ceased.
He figured low self-esteem would prevent Mom from leaving;
and that she was a nobody, he really had her believing.
He was oh so convinced that needed audacity she lacked,
to ever think of opposing him, or of fighting him back.
Besides, with no family around, no job, and no dough,
he smugly concluded that she had no place else to go.
God knows she was weary of existing in this hell on earth;
and I was tired of seeing her endure all that unbearable hurt.
I had had enough of being terrified by that despicable monster,
who had ruined her and made our lives an utter disaster.
After convincing Mom that inevitably I’d suffer the same fate,
one night, we finally escaped to a shelter before it was too late.
*** Note: Thank God, nothing like this ever happened to me. But this piece is dedicated to those many women and their children who are victims of domestic violence.
08-31-2015
Contest: Through the Eyes of a Child
Sponsor:
Placement: 2nd
** A Very Memorable Christmas Present **
Someone made an err::
Boxing Day ‘ere’s
Been the day of — not after.
What started as the greatest
Christmas ever, turned
Us from better to worse
As our tempers grew, altered
After our fingers were slid into
Those gift-wrapped firm gloves of leather,
Punching through the room’s air
At each other
With words roused from harsh to meaner,
‘Till our referee pup barked
To end our Round 1, forcing a turnover
Into creating a round of rich laughter.
Re-freshed, happier, remembering our
Proper manners appropriate to honor
Our Savior’s birthday…We resolved
A return trip to the store to trade
That shared present of boxing gloves for
A healthier, sturdy set of parallel bars.
————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 12/25/22
Happy Birthday, King Jesus
I have this inkling feeling each time before i break
a tightness in my chest, i swallow air
and each time i want to discard every piece of you i own
but i forget, forget, forget
i close it off, i just don’t think about it
and silently i let you barge in on my space
and ask for more
all you do is ask for more
then good days turn into bad days
and all my good poetry turns into bad poetry
now i’m standing in the shower thinking over my day
you didn’t do anything but disappoint me
i didn’t get a lot of birthday wishes this year
nor did my grandma send me the right book
but i wasn’t upset, cause there was always you
not anymore, i guess
at least not the way i want it
you make a point of walking over me and then wiping your feet
and i make a point of breaking down and crying like a little kid
and i don’t know how to say that i want to go alone
since you’ll follow me anywhere
but i need you to stop being attached
attached to me, your punching bag
Punching Bag
Revile Men who gloat and brag
that wives are their punching bag.
Deplore women also, who mull
wielding Tool to "castrate the Bull!"
Husbands and Wives, alike
must unhook from Anger's spike!
For, both need each other 24/7
and, must not be parallel like 11!
25th September 2013
My glasses flew in no direction
as your punches hit me with no restriction.
My jaw became your punching bag
and my face you gave many slaps.
The punches you gave me followed the rhythm of my heart
and I said to myself "I´m going to die".
I looked at you as you kept hitting me
and I said to myself, "no, it´s not him".
You pulled me by my hair like I was a doll
and I kept praying it would all stop
but then your punches followed
and my tears fell without control.
I tried to run away from you
but you pulled me back like I was a trash bag.
I defended myself with all the strength I had
and you just swatted my hands away like I was an annoying fly.
The next thing I heard was the scream of my tearing blouse,
the jerking of my fancy bra,
the protestation of my jeans you kept pulling
and my panties you ripped away from my body...
sometimes I feel like I am nothing but a human punching bag
everyone just tries to beat me up
hurt me
destroy me
just to see how much I can take
before I completely shatter and
break
My fingers press on
blue batterings
for the craft of lavishing
all the things that mattered
not a week ago.
I try to hate you
like a sticker on my puckered mouth
to take the light from my eyes
to make you rage and lash
crashing your jaw to think
that I don't love you
To incite you to be an animal
to make you wrong
to diguise my guilt
like beating my own hands
and making a messy red
confusing the culprit and victim
If I am blue, there's not pain
I can escape if I fall where I stand
by your hand, my bruises won't ache
these stinging scrapes know the red shape
of your fist, my comfort, my peace
rolling in sticker bushes
held hard to your young face
only happy, like a radio song
hands planted in wealth
my soft heart, my eden
pulling me out like a flower
toppling my knees like towers
tracing circles on my skin
How can I not win?
pum/mel ...... pound .….. pul-ver-ize
(left/right) (jab) (punch-down-out)
Frustrations
By Charles G.P. Chard 2nd
Chevra Gavri Hanita Hazaka Abir Selek 2nd
Computers are a very needful thing,
In this day we live in,
Their programs and your thoughts do not agree,
Frustrations and anger set in,
It constantly will not do what you need done,
You feel like punching it out,
Why programs can’t be made simple and easy,
Relieving you from frustrations and anger,
Is there some program that will manage what you need done?
Can this program be found anywhere on the internet,
Frustration and aggravation,
Anger and hopelessness,
Who can help with such a complex task?
Giving hope and peace of mind,
Why do these computer complexities happen?
Does no one care that there are others like me?
Can no one solve the problem?
Up set, unrest,
Perplexity and non comprehension,
Fingernails sliding down a blackboard,
A piercing yet disturbing sound,
Skin crawls,
What can we do? what should we do?,
But live with hopelessness, in despair, frustrated and angry.
I remember growing up in foster care waiting for my dad to show up
I tried to let go of the pain, but the sadness holds up
I bottle it all and then the madness explodes up
Wondering what I had to do to get my dad to show love
It's been years since you've been gone and there's tears I'm yet to cry
You gave me the worst of you, so how could you expect me to have the best of lives?
Are you wishing you fixed up, when you look down and see how broken I am?
I may write a lot of words, but do you know how unspoken I am?
Are you sitting in Heaven wishing you could do it all over?
If you could, would you be there for your son, or would the alcohol still make you fall over?
Am I wrong for still taking the time to express my thoughts?
Maybe one day when I get to heaven we can get to talk
We may differ because I'd rather teach than belittle
I'd rather speak facts than talk in riddles
Forget who's wrong or right, let's meet in the middle
I'd rather go with cold hard facts than opinions, simply because opinions can be fiddled
You may think I'm wrong to write about you with all of my fears and rage
But mum was 42 when she gave birth to me, and you were 50 years of age
So you can never use the excuse you were scared and young
You should have been a father figure and prepared your son
I had to learn how to tie my own shoelaces
You weren't there to guide me as I had to walk through mazes
I had to pick myself up after my first fight
all I wanted as a kid was for you to be in my life
13 years since you died, but at least then you had a genuine reason for not being around
I've always used you as my invisible punching bag and maybe that's wrong of me
you were never around, so I had to find a way to be strong for me
But now it's time I let this pain and anger go and put these Boxing gloves down
Everyday feel’s like
I’m life’s punching bag
It’s making all of its hits
Precise and effective
Man, getting tired of it
But what can I do
If I’m just the punching bag
Not much I can do
However, the end goal
Is not to break apart
No matter how hard life hits
I still stay intact, mentally and physically
If I could grow arms and legs
I’d start sparring with life
Hit it with a left hook
To show it the pain it gave me
But I can’t, so
I stay intact and focus
Not letting it’s punches wear me out
I’ll stay strong and firm
I’ve gotta stay strong
Because one day, I’ll punch life back
Been beat up and brought down
Been stepped on and spit on
Been lost but now I’m found
O
Lord
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
Been called out MY name
Nothing but the Christian name ma and grandma gave me
Can you call me
And did I tell you I am a child of the LIVING KING
Been beat up and brought down
Been stepped on and spit on
Been lost but now I’m found
O
Lord
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
I was down for the ninth count, but I got back up
I not going to be your stomping ground, Satan
I’m not going to let you continually beat me down Devil
I’m not going to allow you to plant seeds of discouragement
I rise up, I RISE above your seas torrents…
My choice is to be the defeater
I choose not to be defeated
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
And did I tell you I am a child of the LIVING KING
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test, yes
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test, yeah
Alleluia, I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
O
Lord
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
3/6/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Do not try there is no use
You will only badly lose
Running will not do a thing
When I find you it will bring
Only more pain you caused this
When you took a closed up fist
Hitting my friend in the face
There is not a single place
You can hide so watch your back
There are bruises from the smacks
Many times you left on her
You are in a world of hurt
When I finally track you down
You'll disappear and not be found
From the rage that will come out
I'll be like a water spout
Sprinkling violence on you
And when I am finally through
With each shot and angry hit
I may throw another fit
Just to see the sight of you
Turn a lot more black and blue
You will be a punching bag
I will beat until you sag
Because you ran out of air
You can't breath and I don't care
Do not try there is no use
You will only badly lose
Running will not do a thing
When I find you it will bring
Only more pain you caused this
When you took a closed up fist
Hitting my friend in the face
There is not a single place
You can hide so watch your back
There are bruises from the smacks
Many times you left on her
You are in a world of hurt
When I finally track you down
You'll disappear and not be found
From the rage that will come out
I'll be like a water spout
Sprinkling violence on you
And when I am finally through
With each shot and angry hit
I may throw another fit
Just to see the sight of you
Turn a lot more black and blue
You will be a punching bag
I will beat until you sag
Because you ran out of air
You can't breath and I don't care