Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
My boyhood hero was Muhammad Ali.
Bold and brash, He was The Louisville Lip.
Quick on his feet, many punches he slipped.
A lot of my friends loved Superman,
But back in the day, I was a boxing fan.
Bigger than sports, he spoke his mind.
At the top of his game, he was in his prime.
Because of his beliefs, he refused to fight,
Religious freedom is the peoples’ right.
Four years later, back in the ring,
Regaining the belt was his constant dream.
One cloudy morning in the Motherland,
He beat George Foreman, and he won some fans.
He boxed some more, it was much too long.
Boxer Trevor Berbick was his final song.
He fought his illness to the very end,
We learned so much from this champion.
He traveled the world, he promoted peace,
He walked with Kings, and helped the least.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
Another like him, we will never see.
-
Author:
Joel A. Bowman, Sr. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 10th, 2016 11:49
- Comment from author about the poem: This piece needs no explanation. I hope every reader finds it meaningful in some way.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 43
Offline)
Comments2
"He walked with Kings and helped the least." That was the beauty and essence of Ali. He was a man of the people. The People's Champion. There will be other heavyweight champion's . There will never be another Ali. Thanks for sharing Joel.
My pleasure. Thanks for reading. Let's keep in touch. Blessings.
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