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Storms have beaten on this point of land
And ships gone to wreck here
and the passers-by remember it
with talk on the deck at night
as they near it.
Fists have beaten on the face of this old prize-fighter
And his battles have held the sporting pages
and on the street they indicate him with their
right fore-finger as one who once wore
a championship belt.
A hundred stories have been published and a thousand rumored
About why this tall dark man has divorced two beautiful young women
And married a third who resembles the first two
and they shake their heads and say, “There he goes,”
when he passes by in sunny weather or in rain
along the city streets.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.