Into the Octagon

My second degree blackbelt testing

Okay so if you've read my "about me" you know I'm an avid martial artist. I've been practicing, competing, and teaching taekwondo for about seven years so I love the sport of fighting, especially UFC (The Ultimate Fighting Championship). Although the point fighting style that I compete in is very different from UFC I can still appreciate fighting as a sport, and a passion, and not merely a violent form of entertainment that I'm sure many people will perceive it to be. You may have heard the phrase "Martial arts is a way of life" and this is something that you can really only understand if you're a part of it, but in my following poem I attempt to describe the feelings involved in a professional fight through the eyes of an ultimate fighter. (P.s. for those of you who know what I'm talking about, I'm a HUGE GSP fan!)

Georges St. Pierre kicking Matt Hughes <3

"Into the Octagon"

Your heart kindles and starts to pump

Throughout your veins, adrenalin flows

In cadence with each uproar it thumps

As the crowd eagerly awaits the show

Stepping onto the scale, anticipation peaks

Tendons flexing, can’t hold yourself still

After training so dedicatedly for weeks

Fists are geared for blood to spill

Prepared to do everything but kill

And with the realization

Of your opponent's intention

To do the very same

You step into the octagon

Fighting not for fame

But to prove to the world what you can do

After all that you have been put through

With the hands to maul

The legs to sweep

The skill to sprawl

And the wisdom to take a breath,

When you know you’re in too deep

Like coach always said

Every practice every brawl, even on his death bed

Never give up, Never give in

Within your core lies the power to win

Now you’re shaking hands

Neath the gaze of hundreds of fans

It’s more than a competition

Far more complex than a game

It is the reason you’ve found to thrive

And the passion to train

For this solitary moment

When you will finally feel alive

More acute and viciously aware

Than you’ve ever felt in your life

Now duck, dodge, and block his strikes

Keep in control, time it just right

Pinpoint your target, await your opening

With practiced precision take him down

Under your force he’ll surely drown

And you’ll take a few hits

But nothing too harsh to bear

Then struggle to keep him pinned

Knowing you’ll need energy to spare

Finally catch an arm

Bend it back until it breaks

Or at least until his will cracks

From the intense, ripping ache

After the entire brutal night

The slight tap on your thigh ends the fight

With vision gone blurry

You release in a hurry

To spring up and shout your victory

Ignoring the strength of heat

And sweat trickling down your body

In overjoyed revelation of the defeat