Boxer Poems - Poems about Boxer

The Boxer verse 6

The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel




The Boxer-verse 6

I’ve truly fought the good fight
And I’ve lost more than I’ve won
But no matter what the outcome
I know that I can live with pride
For I gave the best I could in every fight
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie

Still Here

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
Nor is it strange
After changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same
In the

The Boxer

His first time in the boxing ring, just a shard mirrored glass,
excited, but also scared, he thought he was faultless.
Rolling on the balls of his boxing stance, toe, heel, step dance. 
A romance with his pivot maneuvers and his fist advance. 
His opponent well-executed single punch, a water flow knockout,
he wasn’t expecting a broken bloody

The Boxer - in Trumps own words

I play by the rules day in and day out,
Showing my class, wielding my clout.
I take the hard blows time and again,
Knowing my patience shan't be in vain.

Joe's on the ropes, all by himself,
Waiting around to be dumped on the shelf,
Restraint is my friend, as I pull back and watch,
Those flailing wild jabs I so

The boxer brownie bandit 2

I fear I've lost the light
In this storm of chocolate rain
Muddy waters cloud my sight 
Within this foul smelling haze 
But I know I'll make things right
I'll escape this hell someday
And my tights will finally stay white
Off this soiled path I'll find my way

They say the devils in the details 
Well I sure hope he

The boxer brownie bandit

Who pooped my pants?
I ask in vain                                                

Ted's Boxer Briefs

bundy's
undies




posted 10/19/23

Towel Hot Cake After a Bath

In one’s towel bathroom things are not well
While there is nothing like towel
For the last part of a shower,
Filthy body back ‘Saved Flower…

Towels: hot cake after a bath 
But if not handy no true wrath; 
Wet body is dried by cool breeze,
Which does so but not quite with ease…

I’d splash warm water on towel
As a

A Boxer and An Actor

The boxer and the actor

I saw them on the sidewalk near The Radio music Hall
in New York, Jack was telling Alan a joke 
Jack Dempsey wore a sport’s jacket, brown trousers
a white shirt’s open, top button open
shiny shoes; Alan Ladd, wore a grey suit, with matching 
tie (Everyone had shiny shoe trainers not yet invented)
I

The Boxer

I'll give it all away
 just to have you j
Just to know for one moment 
our love was true 
One thought away 
We've been done for days 
 The memories fade
From black to Grey
Worn out from the games 
We reluctantly play
 Hearts sinking like a ship 
In a blink of an eye  
a poem

Boxer

I wasn't born with long elegant God-limbs
to race across the flowered plains of heaven
I was conceived from the hammer and anvil 
of a gray witted, quick to anger blacksmith.

My shoulders will never feel a spray of red roses
my only friend will be a bucket of second hand oats
no soft palms will stroke my dull-matted flanks
only

Boxer

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

Boxer

uses courage, 
throwing solid punches 
without letup being famous 
fighter.

Basher the Boxer

Basher used to fight with all his might
Until he died, "poor thing".
He boxed four rounds and hit the ground
After taking one on the chin

From a boxer called Biff
Who made short thrift
Of anyone that he fought
He had a flair but didn't play fair
Like others thought, he ought

Basher was in a daze as on the canvas he

Dancing With the Shadow Boxer

Dancing with the shadow boxer
antithesis 
of sunshine and gray
tears and tidings
joy moments so rare 
they are of priceless value
surged into being with the ringing of a bell or the sounding
of a word
a saga of gladness then sadness,
the noiseless laugh, never to be heard.

Tomorrows and yesteryears are one
in the evenings of the shadow boxer
like a day

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