A boxer fights with his two fists
He never bends his wrists,
He throws out his punches fast and hard
Until his opponent is jarred.
He uses his legs to move and dance
Sometimes around the ring to prance,
But, he never grabs or ever kicks
And he never ever fights with sticks.
A boxer never pushes or tosses
Instead he throws uppercuts, hooks and crosses,
He never wrestles his opponent on the ground
Victory there for him, is never found.
A boxers takes punches as well
His conditioning and training will always tell,
He has received cuts, and bruises and a bloody nose
But, he has always rose.
A boxer always stands upright
A boxer is always prepared to fight,
He uses his ability and he also his brain
Over his moves and judgements only he will reign.
A boxer sweats and he also bleeds
His victories and his accomplishments are his deeds,
The title boxer isn't inherited, it is learned
The boxers title, it is truly earned.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem