Treasure Island

Connor Whyte

(March,30th,1993 / Montana)

Dropping this heat


Knuckles that bleed, Eyes that are swelling, breath gets heavier, Body sways to the motion of the other, My feet move light and my arms stay in front of my chest, Floating to the power stance I hold, I stand my ground and blood drips in my eyes, I am about to dropp the heat.

I throw my fist left and then to the right, Arms get tired and legs dance up and down, Focused and hard to distract I am in my zone and nothing can get in the way, Anger stays at bay and power gets harder, I am not going down until I dropp the heat.

Sweat drips and stings my cuts no time for pain, Time to bring the pain and finished what was started, Crowd shouts but its all just a blur my sights are set on my target and I will never back down, Throw him down like he weighs nothing, I am in control and give it all I got, Until I hear the bell I will not quit until the heat is dropped, I was a underdog now I have proved my point, I am never going to go down if I do I will get back up and fight.

Submitted: Sunday, May 13, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, June 13, 2012

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Comments about this poem (Dropping this heat by Connor Whyte )

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  • Charles Monroe (7/20/2014 12:34:00 PM)

    Nice. Here is a different take on the same term.

    To Hold the Heat
    A responsibility I've been cursed to keep
    Since all my big homeys are parolees
    On probation or known felons
    And I have no police record yet
    And am only thirteen
    I am expected by my fellow gang members
    To forever hold the heat.
    And I hold it like its golden
    Like our lives depended on it.
    And I hold it like it’s stolen
    Like there's countless murders on it.
    And I hold it locked and loaded
    Cocked and potent and concealed.
    Even though it’s very presence
    Will add decades to my sentence
    I must carry heat and hold it
    From the buckle to the scrotum
    Hoping none of us will lose it
    And I won’t be forced to use it
    Banging louder than the music
    Like a drum-roll off the snare
    Either wired or acoustic;
    Hope nobody likes to stare.
    Hope our enemies don’t show,
    I pretend to play the part
    Of a fool who doesn’t mind
    Putting led through someone’s heart.
    And I smile amongst the gangsters
    In my dark blue baggy jeans
    I’m the designated shooter
    And I barely turned thirteen;
    I been cursed to hold the heat.
    P.X
    7.20.14 (Report) Reply

  • Travis Ciempa (6/18/2012 11:55:00 AM)

    Liked it alot great use of imagery.. shows how you feel about fighting :) good job - Trav (Report) Reply

  • Adeline Foster (6/13/2012 3:44:00 PM)

    Interesting take on this poem and the descriptive illustrations depict your determination. Not that I understand why there are two ‘p’s in drop. Is it a boxing term? Read mine - We the Unencumbered –
    Adeline (Report) Reply

  • Romeo Della Valle (6/11/2012 7:43:00 PM)

    You definitely dropped some heavy punches on this one, my man! You can really play with the right words! Well penned and poignant! 10+++ Thank you for sharing and keep it up! God Bless You! Love and Peace for always! Romeo from New York City! (Report) Reply

  • Amy Lalala (5/20/2012 3:47:00 PM)

    I love this! Totally transports me to the scene and gets me feeling what you've portrayed. (Report) Reply

Read all 8 comments »

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