The Bull and the Matador
Stalwartly, the bull gaits around
the confines of the arena ring;
snorting and displaying
piercing horns and muscle-bulk build.
For this he was bred and raised;
to be a champion of beasts,
and no matter where placed,
will claim as his domain and ferociously
defend until death, if necessary.
Then into the ring swaggeringly treads the matador
(flamboyantly dressed, touting a cape)
saluting the crowd, though calmly noticing
the bull, whose eyes appear red
from the blood gorging in its head.
“Estás loco!” scream the patrons packing the place.
(Thoroughly, enjoying every minute of this barbaric sport.)
“Ole! Ole!” They sing in unison in horrific overture,
encouraging the matador to kill the bull or vice versa.
***
Categories:
stalwartly, culture, spanish, sports,
Form: Verse
Heroes have many faces
Despite their deathlike pallor
The sum of any soldier
Is measured by their valor
The fear they feel in battle
But never ever flinches
Is purely a reflection
Of courage in the trenches
Even with odds against them
Will still fight to their last breath
Ever stalwartly they stand
And march bravely to their death
Categories:
stalwartly, war,
Form: Rhyme
Wringing Withering Words
Rhymes Remotely Rhetoric
Inherently Irritating Irony
Tying Tattered Trajectories
Enticing Ethereal Echoes
Relinquishing Ruined Rhymes
Stubbornly sitting stalwartly
Busily Busting Brain
Limiting, Losing. Lackluster
Ostensibly Ordering Oracles
Crumbling Cursive Curlicues
Klutzy Kerfuffle Kaleidoscope
Categories:
stalwartly, writing,
Form: Acrostic
To God Be the Glory…
Their pain—
the ever aching
of a nation.
Their loses—
savored gifts
to God who gave
them.
Their tears—
the breast milk
of faith.
Their sweat—
nourishing water
to tombstone flowers.
They’ve always had our backs;
they’ve always been at our sides;
they’ve always—when needed be:
Stalwartly
at our front—
leading the way.
They are our glorious angels—
Mothers, Sisters, our One
and only One—Queens.
Glorious queens
of blood, dripping sweat
and endless nourishing tears.
Come Brothers—come
let us give God the glory
for giving us these glorious gifts.
Categories:
stalwartly, analogy, beauty, black african
Form: Prose Poetry
creation commenced--Cain and Abel
jealousy
two brothers competing stalwartly
hatred
junction off- ramp taken blazing
violence
still cosmic warfare rages intense
unceasingly
assembled, standing as vengeance
persists
born protesting our fallen world
obstinately
strangely culture perceives tolerance
ignorantly
a Creator that keeps our friendship
unconditionally
no half-way house choice in His
sovereignty
“Don’t be surprised my brothers if the world hates you” 1 JOHN 3:13
© October 2013—Kim van Breda
Categories:
stalwartly, christian, corruption, introspection,
Form: Free verse