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The Poets' Corner
Lyoto KO, MMA Sports Poem
Posted on April 21, 2014 at 07:44:58 PM by
Below the jaw a gentle punch,
A flying kick, the dental lunch,
Incisor, cuspid bent to munch,
The wiser lad, intent to crunch
Machida, raring from Brazil
(the masses staring, glaring, still)
He passed Rashad this snoozing pill:
Out-sassed his bruising, martial skill.
2 Thousand Nine, 2-Thousand-Ten,
Light Heavyweight belonged to him,
The Octagon, his private gym
He made, when his left upper limb
Extended as his fist, all dense,
And blending mass and jaw, all tense,
While karma - justice - providence
Combined within the stop-sign fence.
The sign glared, not toward Ly it bade
(the symbol shouting, Shad be slayed
His reign we ended, madly flayed).
His bane though, kin, Machida made.
So when a year's sun rose and set,
Then clearly came a twin regret,
The fray remassed and then begat:
A K-O lost Ly's Rua spat.
A great one knows the uphill climb,
A fate, one grows: slow, grim, sublime,
While one dim truth attends the mind:
akin, the Loss and Win combine.
No Loss falls solely evil then;
No Win's all holy, without sin,
The mate who mixes both their troy*
Fate fixes stronger, with alloy.
*weight system for fine metal
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