Best Uppercut Poems
Ain't An Ornery Yahoo
Old widow lady of ninety-two
Lives by herself with nothing else to do
Except sit in her chair next to the window
And stare out for hours with dreams of her past woe
I reckon she ain't ornery yahoo
With a few bricks short of a load
Doing nothing but fuss and talk for ever and tells tall tales
Ain't no telling of those tall tales are true
Whaddya think?
She sits in her chair next to the window
And stares out for hours with dreams of her past woe
Seasons have come and gone with the flowers,
Grass and trees changing colors
She's ran off all her children, family, and friends
Doing nothing but fuss and talk for ever and tells tall tales
With a ruckus if you don't agree and resist
She gets riled up lifts up her clenched dukes and
Lands an uppercut to the mug she’s kissed
Whaddya think?
Y’all want to stay out of her crosshairs if ya can’t resist
Cause y’all open a can of worms if you persist
She carries a small pearl handle chrome plated
Stup nose 22 pistol in her purse
© 7/22/2015
Contest Name: Colloquialisms
Sponsor: Laura Leiser
Categories:
uppercut, bullying, woman,
Form:
Free verse
On the ring, there's this championship match
Both craving for applause and the title
He is on his 30's while he on his 20's
The crowd stands still and then they roar
Standing and cheering for their bet
With a swift uppercut and jab...
Punches from left to right..
His foot circling round the arena..
Defending their goals and their lives..
The underdog played like it's his last
So, as to the title - holder playing mad
Knock - out, both their aiming at
Thus, they giving all what they got
The audience hot on their own seats
So, as the boxers tight fist on the ring
Sweats and blood running unstoppable
Energy on fifteen rounds, incredible!
The underdog, old with arthritic hand
Remembering his wins and lost fights
His "chance job" on the seventh docks
His kids sent to his brother's house
Inspiring and motivating, his stand..
Unanimously, he won with a good fight
His wife and kids so happy that night
by
olive_eloi
5:28 pm
03/03/2014
In memorial of James J. Braddock, a well known American boxer
noted of his right power punches, a humble inspiration man on 1930's..
----------------------------
Categories:
uppercut, history, identity, imagery, inspiration,
Form:
Imagism
So this is Fremont, California
Circa nineteen sixty-nine,
Nice and bit of a tight-knit
Neighborhood, that is fine.
I am a honey tanned Hawaiian
In a nearly all white community,
With the only swimming pool
Thinks there is another opportunity.
Learned later that ours was it
For this part of the town,
And that would be none for the
Bunch of kids that I hang around.
Being the only kid of a different color
Other than those in this new school,
Though that did not bother me so
Except for a gang whose leader is a fool.
My dad is a Golden Glove winner back in Hawaii
Where he had taught me the ropes,
Having the ability gave me the ardor to be cool
And bypass the taunts and tease by some folks.
Until one day, the leader of the bullies
Stood in my way and was not letting me pass,
He pushed me back so I would fall, instead
With my fist, lands an uppercut to a chin of glass.
The rest stood back, all were aghast,
Their leader held his bleeding lip
And all his teeth were colored red
So, I raised my hand and gave them a finger flip.
With the friends that I had made
Together to the back fence of my house
Dropped our things over, then with our hands
Gripped the upper part like Mighty Mouse.
Ten legs dangled on the other side
Released, falling onto the bench pool
Then stripped down to our BVDs
All five of us jumped into the waiting pool.
None could pronounce my last name, 'Kekaula'
Proper pronunciation is, Kaye-COW-la
Unbeknownst to my mom of my nickname
That my friends called me, 'Coca-Cola'.
So that was the young life that I have stored
In my treasured overflowing chest of memories
Indelible encryptions freely shared by me
Nowadays a smile known only to be my reveries.
Date: 06/08/2019
Categories:
uppercut, anti bullying, boxing day ,
Form:
Narrative
you
jab
jab
jab
duck
uppercut
fall
kiss the canvas
take the full count
stay down
till they’re all gone
and you’re standing alone
in the middle of the ring
waiting alone
for the final bell.
Categories:
uppercut, age, career, death, life,
Form:
Free verse
'Ding-Ding-Ding'
Round 1
Your knees became weak
Learning that your opponent was The Great Enah;
The one to never lose a match.
The one to tear you apart from the inside,
with a double right hook to a left
uppercut combo,
and finally a killer left jab to the
right cheek to only take you out
for 3 seconds at a time;
Round 6
My heart sunk
Learning of your match when you were half way done.
At this point
struggling
just to
keep your
breath.
Battlescars have taken captive your beautiful flesh
Wrinkles of veins stand like mountains
above valleys of blood on your deteriorating skin.
Yet I watch you continue on,
to land a glorifying punch to say
"Everything will be alright."
Round 12
The final countdown
Revealing the final combo
A fatal melee straight through the chest.
I fell to my knees as she tumbled to the ring's floor.
The impact of her body loosely colliding to the ground
echoed in my gut.
6 Rounds,
Not even 60 or 600,
could prepare me for this moment -
She lost.
'Ding-Ding-Ding'
Categories:
uppercut, allegory, death, family, health,
Form:
Free verse
BOXER
The late October day
marked the last of the tragic
encounters framed by the ropes
he preferred to the streets where a
journeyman boxer needs more than
taped hands for the troubles he sees
There had been no title shot, no top
ten ranking, just fifteen years of blows
to the body, to the head, to the soul -
volcanic eruptions, fissures and
earthquakes, myriad tremors in the
plate tectonics of the fist-pummeled
brain
He needed sixty more seconds of glaring
bright lights and a bored, bloody crowd
in a small-time arena in a town far away
Sensing his moment, he slipped to the
right, flicked two stinging jabs, bobbing
and weaving, then three quick strikes and
a pivot to the left that put him flat on his
feet for a violent combination with a
killing uppercut that soothed the roar in
his head, reduced the blur in his vision,
sent the menacing shadow to the canvas
for the count then left him out on the
sidewalks working, breathing hard,
dancing and pivoting like a big circus
bear, punching the air on a cold
afternoon before wary passing
strangers who tried not to notice,
in a town far away!
Categories:
uppercut, age,
Form:
Free verse
Old mean widow lady of ninety-two
lives by herself with nothing else to do
Hunkers in her chair next to the window
stares out for hours with dreams of her bingo
She is labeled mentally unstable
Plays solitary on the end table
Fusses forever and telling tall tales
no telling if she’s left out small details
Seasons have come and gone with the flowers,
grass and trees changing colors with showers
She's run off all her family and friends
finding upsetting fault that never ends
With lawless behavior if you resist,
she gets riled up, lifts up her clenched right fist
lands an uppercut to the mug she’s kissed
With a burning twist she has never missed
You would want to stay out of her crosshairs
A small pearl handle pistol she will dare
Out of her leather purse it will appear
Create trouble; it might be all you’ll hear
6/23/2016
blunt mother in-laws
talks and talks and talks and talks
gets under my skin
True story
Categories:
uppercut, bullying, grandmother, lost love,
Form:
Quatrain
No metaphors
Simply raw
Straightforward
Uppercut
Hit the jaw.
Scrape
Revealing marrow
Broken rules,
Many poems
Simple phrases
All my jewels.
Categories:
uppercut, art, on writing and
Form:
Rhyme
He was tough, he’d been raised to be big, fit and strong,
To hide any hurt, pain or fear.
He’d prepared for this fight, bottling his feelings,
Living an unemotional atmosphere.
Then the time had arrived, a fight till the end,
He had to win this fight at any price.
His opponent knocked on his door, ready to take him on,
By casually rolling the dice.
He swung to the left and glanced to the right,
Then an uppercut straight to the chin.
Then he kicked like a soldier, a seasoned marine,
And he thought he was going to win.
But his opponent was smart, and took all of his rage,
Took it with one boxing glove.
His opponent she won, so he lay down defeated,
Defeated by that emotion called love.
Categories:
uppercut, emotions, love,
Form:
Quatrain
Look at him.
Despecable human being.
I just wish i could,
beat him,
just for breathin'
Lying his way through, life,
like a boxer bobbin' and weavin'
I just wanna beat him for decievin'
like a politician running for office,
buildin' up our hopes,
pretendin' to make our dreams,
come true,
but whatever you do,
don't believe 'em.
Instead place your trust in me,
cause I come up with a way that no one
could blame,me,
nor put to shame,
any of us, especially me.
As I commence to walk up to him asking five little words,
before the first blow,uppercut,combo
is thrown,
laying him flat upon his back,
as everyone proceeds to laugh, when I ask
What cha say about my Mama????
that puts an end to that drama!!!!
Categories:
uppercut, funny, mother,
Form:
Tail-rhyme
11/22/16
Got to get that cheese pronto
Those that talked guano
Got hit with an uppercut combo
mano a mano
I had a dog named Bronco
And landlords named Helga and Poncho
Knew this lady that lived in a condo
And worked at Costco
Cargo
Being shipped worldwide, even garbanzo
Jane and John Doe
Still trying to win the lotto
Roads smooth or full of potholes
Article after article on Monsanto
Business and vacation trips to Cabo
Valuable art pieces done by Picasso
He wanted a Gallardo and she wanted a Murcielago
Beauty can be seen from Lake Tahoe to way beyond Morocco
Regardless of it is or is not in a grotto
I like a lot of music from the DMV and Chicago
Songs made with many instruments such as the bongo
On any fish, beef or chicken taco
I'll stack toppings like cheese, tomato, sour cream and avocado
Girl didn't know how to cook anything including nachos
She called me el diablo
But never el chapo
At the end of this they're going to hate, or congratulate and say bravo
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
uppercut, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
In today's society everyone is operating
on a short fuse,
It seems as if no one has time to spend
on ideas they do not comprehend,
Most people are drunk with power,
and receive satisfaction from seeing
others cower,
Points of views can become controversial,
Yet, instead of doing role reversals,
Some take offense and think about executing
violence,
Who would think that employees harbor ill will
towards one another?
When everyone is there to make a dollar,
Under currencies seethe when wishes are rejected,
Instead of being good sports, some feel disrespected,
Tempers flare, and thoughts persist,
An "uppercut" may seem the way to go,
but in reality, the mere thought is a NO-NO.
Categories:
uppercut, business
Form:
Prose Poetry
A moment never fades or is far behind.
An ex of yesterdays playback in reverse.
When the feelings hit, they'll knock you down.
You allow it and take the fall.
Relentless jabs of the past followed by an uppercut of a sealed memory.
The final blow strikes the chest, enough for the concussion of the heart to take its course.
A vulnerable period of reliving events from beginning to end.
Details of your highs and lows penetrate beyond others comprehension.
Good times filter through like morphine to ease the pain,
smile the best is yet to come swiftly and surely.
Cause in the end-
After this round against the eternal opponent called life;
she'll continue those classic hits.
Just roll with the punches from experience.
Categories:
uppercut, memory, time,
Form:
Free verse
Damn kangaroo stole my hat
As I was beating him, with a baseball bat,
Will it ever end? The thief never stops
He got up and kicked me in the chops.
I pulled on his ears
Brought him to tears,
He kicked me in the face
I felt a little disgraced.
I gave him an uppercut
Knocked him down, I did the strut,
When I wasn't looking
He stole my homemade cooking.
I grabbed the cast iron frying pan
But I must admit, it wasn't a good plan,
He dinged me over the head
With the baseball bat instead.
That damn kangaroo
Escaped from the zoo,
Snuck up right behind me
Doesn't he think he's all high and mighty.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
July.22/2005
Damn kangaroo. I'll be getting him back one of these days.
Categories:
uppercut, art,
Form:
Rhyme
The earth quakes with fear.
It sweats brooks.
My face is made of stone.
One look and you turn to stone.
The fire in my eyes burns forests down.
My kicks are quick as lightning.
I punch like rain; you can't avoid me.
My fists are made of iron.
I don't wait until they get hot to strike.
I break new ground as if it were a nose.
It crunches against my knuckles.
I uppercut deep. Lava gushes on impact.
The earth revolves around me before lying in mire.
It was me against the world.
Now I'm a world beater.
Categories:
uppercut, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse