Delightfully warm tingling golden sunrays
a cool stiff breeze charging from the north
~ rooting for sol the underdog
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Underdogs are today’s true heroes
defeating impossible odds they surpass wild expectations
~ proof dreams do come true
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
Great tiny apple
Consequence of branches untrimmed
Will anyone bother to learn
That you are
Defiantly delicious?
Anybody, who is struggling,
Is my people
The one with the color purple,
Who will one day earn and own the ring.
I love fighters, who are not backstabbers,
I don't like haters or fake lovers,
I adore freedom fighters
As I abhor bullies and predators.
I love the underdog,
Who works smart, trains hard
And who fears neither fire nor fog.
That doesn't mean I like Mr. or Ms. Frog,
The one who will commit fraud
In order to win like a casuistic coward.
Copyright © September 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Underdog Alleluia
By Mark D. Stucky
Why do we love underdogs?
Why root for ragtag Rockies
and scruffy low-rated teams
coming from behind to win?
Why adore unlikely triumphs
against impossible odds?
Our culture can still remember
underdog-filled Bible stories,
from David and Goliath’s battle
to the meek inheriting the earth.
And America was once an underdog,
rebelling against earth’s mightiest empire.
Although Britain wielded superpower might,
and colonists fielded motley militias,
somehow, against improbable odds,
America survived and thrived.
In the centuries since,
the story transformed.
America became Goliath.
What will be our story now?
(First published in The Purpled Nail, 2 June 2023.)
(Photo by Kara Carelle on Unsplash.com.)
Polly Purebred was a bit too stuck up for my taste.
But Underdog was always there, with a heave and a haste.
I remember being shocked when I saw him in color in 1964.
Picturing him in blues, not reds, now seeing him down to his core.
He flew across the screen at Polly’s first whistle.
His cape was smooth and clean, without thorns or a thistle.
Polly Purebred never stop yelping, not a favorite with me.
But Underdog always saved her, with a bit of cartoonish glee.
Anybody, who is struggling,
Is my people
The one with the color purple,
Who will one day earn and own the ring.
I love fighters, who are not backstabbers,
I don’t like haters or fake-lovers,
I adore freedom fighters
As I abhor bullies and predators.
I love the underdog,
Who works smart, trains hard
And who fears neither fire nor fog.
That doesn’t mean I like Mr. or Ms. Frog,
The one who will commit fraud
In order to win like a casuistic coward.
Copyright © September 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
The Underdog
The underdog wasn’t expected to last this long
The status quo, the elite were sharing,
Didn’t return as expected
World order in the balance, at tipping point
All those who were fed, are now struggling to eat
The world banked on democracies defeat.
Ukraine is still standing
Punch drunk but aware
The aggressor and expected victor being
Mutilated on the field and still the disbelievers
Spout venom in his defence, hoping he’ll
Recover and order will return.
But that’s long gone. The plan was three days
Until the end. They waited until conspicuous
And then had to act. Delayed delivery while
words dripped blood down the wall.
Fortunately, principled countries are literate.
When it’s over; the delaying guilty
Will pretend, it’s the right result.
Of which it is for the underdog.
Behind the scenes, in the corridors of
Power, they’ll rue their mistakes and
Costs will be counted.
Forever gone the good times; never be the same.
But when victory comes even the doubters and
Losers will shout, Slava Ukraine!
David Cox 05/08/22
Insecure bullies seek their prey
Prepared for attack
Finding a vulnerable target
To fulfil the worth that they lack
Their victims are not the weak
They are the kind, gentle or unsure
They don’t possess meanness
That is the bullies irresistible lure
Victims are often described as the Underdog
I believe this term does not pertain
The only dog between a bully and their victim
Is the one that is entirely to blame …..
They laughed at us when we selected our books but we learnt how to read.
They poured scorn on the way in which we held our ink but we learnt how to write.
They got comfortable in the airs and privilege but we learnt how to persevere.
They scoffed at the way we talked and danced and sang but we learnt how to sing.
They balked at us when we set sail but we learnt how to swim.
They wanted to watch blood pour from our veins but we learnt how to heal.
They’d turned their noses up at our food but we learnt how to feed.
They wanted to see tears in our eyes but we learnt how to see.
They wanted to see us crawl, beg and steal but we learnt pride and dignity.
They pushed us and taunted us, they’d tried to make us lose…
but…
…we learnt how to win.
When you lose
Remember
There will be another blessed day
There will be another play
Another fuse
To burn, to stay alive
And to do high five.
Life has a ton of surprises
Remember
Forthcoming are more prizes
There will be a blissful day
There will be another play
Never give up, stay well
And alive; and wait for the bell.
Let the ball roll
May it be in the Super Bowl
Play your role
To clear the pole
Enjoy the last play
Enjoy your stay today.
Copyright © February 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Jab. Jab. Jab.
An underdog's blessed gloves enter battle.
Fighting for the reigning title.
Left. Right. Right. Left.
With a divined dance of the feet,
a silver throne to be his seat.
Upper cut. Liver shot.
Angels swirl around the ring,
an upset soon would be seen.
Mocking tongue. Eyes widen up.
Lightning in veins, thunder in punch,
a young warrior makes his opponent hunch.
Unleased bow... round house.
God nods to the child of the cruel sport,
the young man looks down at the canvas, nothing more to report.
Saturday, November 6, 2021
Cat
looks to you for a steady feed
the occasional scratch
vague companionship
nothing more-nothing less.
You're not his friend, you're his pet.
The times you're at your pinnacle
are the times he's somewhat less...
When you're deep into your blueness,
he becomes quite oblivious.
Cat
marks territory on your cherry wood headboard
leaves masterpieces in the litter box
doesn't care about your plush carpet
or that he's busted your heart
Cat
holds grudges because of:
the castration
the declawing
the confinement
the prisoner's mash...
Out in the hard world of the vagabond
you've made cat
the heavy
underdog
you said I was a wuss;
you said I couldn’t take it.
You said I’d make a fuss;
you said I wouldn’t make it.
what you said did not make sense;
you didn’t think I had the guts;
now you’ll feel the difference;
with my new knee in your nuts.
The crown of the underdog
In the oblivion of failure
A nameless person takes your place
Your face loses a name
Your eyes too ashamed to look up
You never looked out
Now you introspect
A new idea is conceived
A dream is birthed
Another climb begins
Deserted and lost
Strength only dwells within
The summit beckons
A former defeatists has just won
Astonishment buries the dismissive
Unpredictable to the optimists
Denials from the skeptics
A name for the nameless
A faceless face now beams pride
Let the limelight enhalo a head
The crown for the underdog
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