Contender Poem by Kewayne Wadley

It soon became hard to see as the sweat from his forehead got in his eyes,
He towered over him,
The first round itself was a fight,
Weaving, left then right,
Dodging a punch here and there,
Getting tagged by the ones that made it through,
Jabs thrown to and fro,
Left and right hooks connected against their temples,
Sounding off like symbols,
sparks, sent through the brain,
As each knockdown made it harder to get up,
Rules, regulations have no meaning,
Snarles followed each punch,
One hitting harder than the next,
Their eyes connected,
Quick flashes of the lights flashed,
Lucky lefty,
Southpaw, quick four piece combination,
Jab, straight, left hook, right uppercut,
His jaws clinched the mouth piece,
Still he didn't fall, he stumbled,
He danced around,
Swaying left as his jab missed right,
Counter punch,
One to the gut,
Faces smashed in,
Hitting each other with the might of God's,
Another round in the books,
The crowd watches in antcipation,
Some cheered, some boo'd,
Waiting for a knockout,
Their eyes watched with much antcipation,
Aware of the gloves that weren't at all shy to echo their battle cry,
Swallows of water swished around their mouths before hitting the sides of the buckets,
Bodies leaned left then right,
Pummelled by the beating given by each other,
They refused to give up,
Eyes puffed out,
As blood soon spilled,
The smell of the ring canvus,
The smell of gloves, mixed with sweat, blood,
A silent stare,
The calm before the storm,
Testing each jab as they stepped forward,
The head movements that followed, left, right, in antcipation,
Gloves flew up quickly dodging a quick blow,
A philly shell defense,
Gloves flew up again, blocking every punch it could,
Soon even the padding in the gloves started to wear thin,
The intensity of each punch became more dead on,
More precise, time went on,
Pounding like thunder,
Striking like lightning,
The referee follows in the shadows,
Quickly breaking every clinch,
Watching the flurry of punches first hand,
Then suddenly,
It happened, seventh round knock down,
Two minutes four seconds left on the ticker,
The crowd grew louder drowning the referees count,
He dropped him with a sway and an overhand right, just before the opponents uppercut could land,
And once more to the jaw before he could hit the ground,
Dazed, he stared at the lights as he lay on his back side,
The Referee's count now at 5,
The crowd rippled out as his opponent pulls himself back up, then stumbles back down,
The count now at 7,
He looks at the ref,
Regaining his composure,
He shoots straight up in the air,
Leaning against the ropes, stumbling back down,
The referee counts ten,
He couldn't get back to his feet,
The crowd grew esstatic,
He Stood There towering his opponent,
A message sent to the Champion whom watched from behind the curtain