Beaker's blog
The 'BOUT'
In his corner, boots and trunks,
Trying to look brave,
Eyeing me both down and up
Wondering if I'll cave
To his demeaning, bullying gaze
His pecs and biceps pump
Hoping that his menacing stare
Will cause my throat to lump.
But I, though leaner, can deceive,
Good tactics I will use,
My lithe and supple, agile form
Will aid to him abuse.
With 'pins' and 'clothesline', 'headbutt', 'kick',
And 'diving elbow drop',
Weakened by my high 'back kick'
With final 'backhand chop'.
He tries his best to rally round
To submit, he'll not yield,
The ref, though, sees his flailing arms
Decides, he must concede.
But undeterred and utt'ring threats
A rematch he insists
He leaves the ring, frustrated mood
While pumping iron fists.
FLGripper (8 )
2019-07-11 05:30NICE!!!! Enjoyed this poetic dream
Beaker (11)
2019-07-12 00:24Rhymes & challeges ;) By FLGripper
A distant contender,
Has caught my eye.
His stats are so perfect,
He's just the right Guy.
And to the Beaker,
a challenge is made.
His complete anatomy,
I intend to raid.
The Gripper and Beaker,
Will lock face to face.
We'll find who is weaker,
And settle our case.
And one will be won
Yet another lost
A claim will be made,
And one pay the cost.
Respect will be earned
But on equal terms
A bond will be formed
A friendship is learned
And when things are final
two smiles will emerge
The product of forcing
This energy surge
This conflict a warrant
In so many ways
It summons a rematch
More sweat within days
And even in win
Or in one's defeat,
The thought in both minds,
When is the next meet.
The Gripper could use some Canadian hospitality
;)
Beaker (11)
2019-07-12 00:25(Som svar till detta)
It must be the era of Language and Lit
When both were taught in school
Which gave both of us the yearning for it
And made us both so cool
It sure would be great to meet up and fight
And on friendly terms then, we'd leave,
With hopes of another, a friendship of might,
And memories to share and cleave.
Alas, with the distance, it doesn't look great
The border, a hindrance, for sure,
But bodily contact, a loving to 'hate'
Is really the only true cure.
For yearnings experienced all of the time
When scantly clad bodies entwine,
When pinning opponents, upon them do climb
To make YOUR body MINE.
Then as we get closer, in body, as friend,
More comfortable we'd feel
The bout which we started would come to an end
Who'd win? - the jobber or heel?.