I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, but I’ve updated it recently as I think about those last years of my boxing career. This is a sample of how I write…part storytelling and part song. Hope you enjoy it.
The Ol’ Prizefighter
Written by Ken Boutwell
former welter-weight boxer, Golden Boy
October 6, 2016
The ol’ prizefighter staggered back to his corner,
stared down at the floor.
Headaches are worse, his hands still hurts
from the fight the night before.
Bloody and bruised, he asks himself,
how long can he hold on
to his glory days that are fading away
slowly one by one?
After the fight he’s all alone
in a cheap motel he calls a home.
A neighbor’s light across the hall
reflects his shadow on the wall.
He knows he’s in trouble when he starts seeing double
and decides he’ll just whip ‘em both.
Then changed his mind, fought one at a time,
after he saw ‘em up close.
It’s toe-to-toe, right to the end,
and once again his shadow wins.
He ran his hand across his head,
turned toward the mirror, winked and said,
“You got lucky tonight, when you knocked me down.”
Talking to himself cause no one else is around.