Six Rounds Poem by Mark Curtis

Want to think, laugh and smile?
Then read on for a little while.
This poem contains no hidden clue,
It’s called six rounds, it’s just for you.
 
Round one, the time to begin,
remember the only word is win.
Left hand high, back foot planted,
never take your style for granted.
 
Round two, a reconnaissance mission,
this fight is won on war of attrition?
Pressure for perfection, you do every time,
is learn, absorb, progress a crime?
 
Round three, now it’s really started,
eyes closed please for weak of hearted.
More confident please, you must aspire,
to match that burning heart desire.
 
Round four, it’s past halfway,
now’s the time to make them pay.
Undefeated so you say,
is it going to stay that way?
 
Round five, show no pity,
that fool’s an impostor in your city.
God took six days with Sunday rest,
make this your day, the acid test.
 
Round six, must finish off in style,
combinations, thrown with guile.
Count hits ten, still undefeated,
win that way, you can’t be cheated.

copyright 2009 Mark Curtis