JAMES V. MORRONE, JR. 

A sensei, a master at his art

Is never at a finish until we start.

All clothed in a gi of dazzling white

My sensei has never lost a fight.

With cuts and bruises and a tethered belt

For pain and agony he has felt.

A belt of black, a sixth degree,

A passion for the Bonsai tree.

Kata and Kumite play a part

In fostering devotion to this ancient art.

A man of strength, a man of power

Men twice his size soon learn to cower.

The Pan Am games of ‘79

Gave the bronze in recognition of this hero of mine.

His toes are broken, his hip is weak

Despite these drawbacks he strives to seek.

To seek new students with a desire

To learn the ways of spiritual fire.

His face is round, his fists are strong

He barely makes a sound while he moves along.

A smiling face with eyes so keenHis air is stern but never mean.

A nice, kind, honest man

He’ll always lend a helping hand.

His friendship is one to always treasure

This man’s greatness is without measure.

A teacher, a champion, a comrade, a friend

He’s someone on whom you can always depend. 

Written by:

Mandy Alexander Schneider,

Shodan1997