The Fight - Poem by Chris Tyrimos
Energy, optimism and courage.
Two warriors face off, ignoring original sin and salvation.
Death masks on, gloves laced, gum shields in.
Blood boiling, spotlights on, seconds out.
Time an illusion, the grotesque crowd shout in anxiety.
Hands like pistons, look at them go.
A crashing right hand to the jaw, uppercuts sliding in.
A return to the primordial soup, chromosome vs chromosome.
A grapple and memories of nostalgic sequential summers.
A left to the intestine, the air went out of him.
Two steamships meet for a declaration of war.
One survivor reaches the pulpit, popcorn glory days of yesteryear.
Time freezes, trees uproot and circle one another.
Reality envelopes the hour and present tense.
Engulfing it, reducing time to a wave.
Then a wave. To an equation. Equation to a symbol. Symbol to eternity.
There was beauty in this war.
A Bernard Herrmann score isn't adequate for this macabre battle.
The ecstasy of battle, pure, almost virginal.
The moon smiles at the sun in a twisted sympathy.
All rights reserved to Chris Tyrimos
Dedicated in loving memory of Jim Oliver - Finchley and District Head trainer and Mick Carney of Fitzroy Lodge - Lambeth.
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