The Boxer (3/3) By Chris Dawber

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3).

Round 10 Fisted antennae, feeling their way, Like young and old oaks, they gently sway, With tentative jabs, they circle and close, Ready and waiting for telegraphed blows, The referee watches and scores the points, As aches touch the roots of overworked joints, Daniels is first to continue the duel, His lungs thrust forward, throwing both knuckled hands, Throws caution to wind, doesn't care where they land, His elbows are wide, leaving gaps in defence, Vandons not slow to seize on his chance, He feints with his left, to put Daniel off guard, Then lets loose with a right, that a bull would regard, Bri staggers and gasps, he's fighting for breath, But the bell, once more, saves the champions death. Round 11 Like loving friends who long to meet, They rush, embrace, with shuffling feet, Both men squint through sweat filled eye, Neither's run resources dry, Leathered glove whips Vandons nose, A trickle of blood and then it flows, His solar plexis takes the next, He fights for breath and starts to retch, He covers up and pedals back, His nose won't take one more attack, The Bell, to lick his wounds, he needed time, The adrenalin, he had to prime, His "second" cauterises nose, To regain wind, forced head to toes. Round 12 Two trains completing collision course, Couldn't have met with greater force, They waste no time, they've none to spare, Only the audience can sit and stare, Three lefts to chest, then two to head, A mighty right, and eye flows red, Bri staggers back to search for space, Sweat-weakened blood streaked agonised face, A loaded right on rugged chin, His vision blurs, his senses spin, He covers up, protects his head, Incessant blows turn white skin red, In staying power he must excel, He knows it's very near the bell, There's the gong to save the fight, Half carried, he stumbles, to much needed respite. Round 13 Though they've both given of their best, They both look better for a rest, Vaseline on puffy face, They come out to continue pace, Bolo, upper -cut or jab, All opportunities they grab, To gain the points that win the fight, To make their victory come in sight, Now the blood flows everywhere, In eyes, on gloves and stuck to hair, Vandon springs and lashes out, Almost a climax to a classic bout, They hit, they pummel, chop and beat, Like butchers, tenderising meat, They're still erect and on their toes, Still hitting hard, right to the close. Round 14 The audience quiet, there's hardly a word, They're all well aware of the respect that is shared, By these noble contenders, of world-wide renown, Fighting like hell for intangible crown, Each greets his opponent with explosive delight, Both trying to prove their superior might, Vandon's back-pedaling, but not though defeat, He's biding his time, the next onslaught he'll meet, He lets loose with a hook, only fractions too wide, But the miss costs him time, time he'll maybe regret, Time to give Daniel a chance to get set, With co-ordinated beauty, every ounce of his weight, Lashes at Vandon, like a whip filled with hate, But Vandon recovers, the danger is past, Next it's the big one,The Fifteenth, the last. Round 15 The bell has rung, the fifteenth starts, No time now for faint of heart, They use the ring, they search for space, Breathing deep, they quicken pace, Vandon rips through Daniels guard, He hits and hits, good and hard, He gives it everything he's got, And doesn't miss the smallest spot, Daniel takes it on the chin, It looks a certain Vandon win, But Daniels ribs were heard to crack, As Vandon fell flat on his back, The fight is won, the blood is shed, The mighty Vandon, lays there dead, The victor, Daniel, worn out and tired, Just lay there, like a child and cried.

Copyright © Chris Dawber 2008

Poetry - Confessions of a Poet By Paul England

	This is my confession this is how I feel mother loved me last I'm just being real when brother left this life that shit killed me too I need nor want your pity Read more...

Poetry - Bookshop Millie By Mike Watts

I've forgotten my glasses So this place is pointless, But I'm hanging around Because there's this girl, 'Millie' Who works the till And we're spending her 'half day' together. Read more...

Poetry - Much More Than Seven Words By Del Abe Jones.

	Although he really wasn't Everybody's cup of tea He was a great comic And he was very funny. He made fun of everyone And of society's flaws He was arrested for it Read more...

Poetry - Watch It Unfold By Joe Hakim

Decades wriggle by like a silverfish, hide from the light when the switch is flicked. Grant the general's dying wish, there's plans to be drawn, sides to be picked. Spin the words like a whirling dervish, habits to be formed and habits to be kicked. Kill the birds and poison the fish,    Read more...

Poetry - The Fuels of Passion By John Stobart

Her hair draped gently Across my pounding chest Her hands grasping mine Bodies entwined Rhythmic and timely Our passion alight Ecstasy, fantasy,    Read more...

Poetry - Stubborn Stain By Mike Watts

A frenzy of lips As we engaged In the back of A taxi Your hot wet mouth Crippling me In my jeans    Read more...

Poetry - A Mother So Cold By Paul England

	Mother let me tell you I don't give a fuck shit, I felt it too when brothers life was took I'm the child you would not hold you callous fucking cunt and then you call me cold Read more...

Poetry - Educate The Nation By Jazziee

	It's Jazzi33-J letting you know what's up Crazy are things happening in this world today People are killing each other, thieving and dealing drugs If your loved ones were doing that How would you feel as a mother, brother, sister or son That's why I see no need for kids to carry a gun Read more...

Poetry - Automatic Window Writing By Joe Hakim

Close the blinds. The sun is beginning to shine but I want to stay inside I want to hide don't want to confide in anyone just my mind and I in the noble role of the abuser    Read more...

Poetry - Exam and The Fifth Floor By Heather Cairns

Click crack tap Carved table top Words have drowned Sunk, slunk, shrunk Sank, slink, shrank Words have gone One plus one    Read more...

Poetry - I Don't Give A Fuck About Animals By Sally Satan

I don't give a fuck about animals, 'Cos they don't give a fuck about me. I don't give a monkey's about all those donkeys That live in the sanctuary. I don't give a fuck about animals. I really don't feel their pain.    Read more...

Poetry Larkin 25 - Park Rain By Laurenceaux

The rain rodded down, pock-marking the pond as the moon shone in a halo of colours. Sheltered we stood by a roof and our hearts    Read more...

Poetry - All Around My Hat By Andrea Longstaff

	Nothing is real and nothing is true I am one of the chosen few Nothing I write will ever be read I know the truth to blow your head Nothing I say will make any sense The vacuum we dwell in has made you all dense I will write you a song Read more...

Poetry - 30 Seconds Later By Mike Watts
	I met fear today A ball-shrinking ordeal Of dark confrontation Blocking my way: A street predator Six foot of cold blood, An unmuzzled Dog-faced bastard Read more...

Poetry - The Great Big Back and Forth By Joe Hakim

We remain unsolved like a su-doku on the back of a paper on a table in a café, that someone started but neglected to finish, and now    Read more...

Poetry - Scribble By Heather Cairns

These days it is not enough to cross or strike the wrong number away No. The pen must dig and scratch like the    Read more...

Poetry - The Coward By Laurenceaux

The coward couldn't tell the truth the coward could only lie. The coward deceived and tricked, the coward    Read more...

Poetry - Sell-Up or Sell-Out? By Andrew Wastling .

	Gonna sell my TV My CDs And my fridge. Gonna move into a tepee With the hippies Livin' High Up on the ridge. Read more...

Poetry - I Want To Get A Celebrity Pregnant By Joe Hakim

Make my move when they're looking dog rough, my own life is just too tough, I'm just not earning enough so I need to get a celebrity up the duff. I want to get a celebrity pregnant. I need a passport to another life,    Read more...

Poetry - Job Satisfaction By Laurenceaux

Sitting in the box called work a screen flickers as if unsure of its mode and I observe discompassionatly. We talk in jumbled mnemonics and jargonese, but not a word is spoken.    Read more...

Poetry - Crime Scene By Mike Watts
	I'm sinking my cold Bare flesh into the hot shock Of clear, steaming water, And as I hit the enamel A sudden burst of yellow Mushroom's out From between my legs: Read more...

Poetry - Message for the Lady in the Red Hat By Andrea Longstaff

	When I drink whisky my mind starts to melt I've been thinking about the hand I've been dealt Everyone lies if you look in their eyes And life doesn't begin at forty She was naked apart from the clothes that she wore Nothing makes sense to me any more Read more...