Removed from his feet and sent toward the heavens,

Like a bubble of flesh and bone aimed for space, 

Return to Earth, Richter scales hit elevens;

A well-executed slam, a thing of grace.

The crash to the mat, a moment of suspense,

Along every nerve pain is sure to dispense.

It’s safe to surmise the contest has been won;

The question: the everlasting damage done.

Prompted from MMA Storytime’s Rispetto Poetry Prompt Challenge at:

Prompted from Tale Weaver at:

Prompted from Ragtag Daily Prompt at:

Prompted from Fandango’s One Word Challenge at:

Prompted from Eugi’s Weekly Prompt at:


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