Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, VERS LIBRE OF BOXING, by WILLIAM A. PHELON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

VERS LIBRE OF BOXING, by                    
First Line: The champion strides in. He gazes 'round
Last Line: "fake! Fake! Oh, what a fake!"
Subject(s): Boxing & Boxers


THE Champion strides in. He gazes 'round
The multitude, with an imperious smile
As though the whole crowd wasn't worth his while.
Ah, such proud pride!
So ossified!
Half of the surging public yearns
To render homage to him—and half burns
To glom him with a brick.
Ah, what is this? What sudden noise
Rattles the very ceiling? Yea—oh, boys,
The Challenger is here!
A burly person, with a red, red neck,
Should he but smite you, you would be a wreck,
A busted wreck. Ha, they draw on the gloves,
They glare, they pant, 'twill be a slaying, sure—
The death of some one is secure!
A gong. A rush. The flailing fists
Flop 'round in snaky twists.
Loudly they slap with open palm,
Fiercely they stare, they threaten, they attack—
Whack, whack, and we will say they continue to whack—
What? No life yet sped?
Can it be possible, neither one is dead?
Hark to the maddened crowd,
That cries, with ululation loud,
While all the pillars shake,
"FAKE! FAKE! Oh, what a fake!"





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