TAXING THOUGHTS
Let us hide behind a litany of lunacy
Of gods and Gods, prophets and profits
Does it do any good to feed the hungry
When we are the cause of the hunger
To take money from those who work
And give it to those who can’t or won’t
Do the presidents dogs really need SS protection
More than his garage door needs a lock
Why does the Red hat of the toreador
Arouse such venom in the capeless
Must I give up my right to be me
So that you can exercise your right to be you
Must I turn away
Lest my eyes offend you
Silence my laughter
To sooth your self-centeredness
Must I teach my children and grandchildren
That they are less than because of who they are
Let us hide behind a plethora of flags
And mock the one allowing them to fly
Categories:
toreador, words,
Form: Couplet
There’s an air of excitement
Amongst most cultured of Spain
Centred around a little hamlet
On the Andalusian Plain.
They are arriving by the plane load,
Helicopter, and even limousine
For the opening performance of
An event never ever before seen.
It’d the Ballerina, late of Barnsley
And her dance partner the Toreador
Who, after months of rehearsal
Are now ready to take the floor.
Every seat has been pre-sold,
Every planned performance full,
For the much awaited Ballet
Sugar Plum Fairy Meets the Bull
The costumes are a mixture
Of Tutus and Suits of Light,
The music is traditional except
During the Finale Bull Fight,
When the orchestra fades down
As though heard from afar
To be quickly replaced by
Massed Flamenco guitar.
The reviews have been amazing
From the international press
Invited to a short preview
In full costume and dress.
Charles the Third and His Consort
Have just entered through the doors,
We leave as the curtain rises to
Thunderous, rapturous applause.
Categories:
toreador, art, culture, dance, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Let me sing a foreign song
To the hears of my foreign friend
Let me dance with foreign moves
To the beat of my foreign art
She said she believed a foreign friend
That came far from a foreign land
She speaks calm to the foreign quest
And two foreigners look like a regular
Sing to me and hear a foreign melody
Save me from been a toreador
Fighting for love in a strange land
Call me my name and sing my pedigree
Categories:
toreador, love,
Form: Ode
The Matador
I was thinking of taken the bus Seville
But don`t know what to do when getting there
Unless I run into a female Toreador
I once met in Seville she was good at killing things
She had once worked at an abattoir, alas, too many men
Surrounded her, she didn`t see me
That was long ago she must be 70 years old now
And probably glad to see a man who remembers when
She cut the ear of the of her prey and held it aloft
And the spectators were ecstatic.
Perhaps she has turned away from this slaughter and
Become and protector of all animals.
Did I tell you I was in Seville ten years ago with
A drunken girlfriend?
In a bar, she got up pretending to be a matador,
This was embarrassing
I had to get her out and to the hotel
But, she was in a festive mood
and disappeared in the night.
There are idle moments when I wonder what happened to her.
Categories:
toreador, absence, angst, anxiety, art,
Form: Blank verse
Contrary to the forlorn attitude,
Thrive for the bliss of solitude,
The vulnerable gets incapacitated,
Keep spark of optimism inside alive !
Helpless gets sturdy, will not mentally die,
Heaps of benevolence, keeps living a lie,
Struggles till the woes get precipitated,
Spark of hope always burns alive !
Languishing tribulations seem incumbent,
A muscular man declared impotent,
Munificent heart asthenic and debilitated,
Spark of hope still stays alive !
Miseries are vaporous, only if comprehend,
Toreador if be, will turn vilipend,
Embrace potvaliancy, rather remain paralysed,
Must keep spark of hope alive !
Written on 1/5/14
Sponsor- Cyndi and Tim
Theme- helpless
Now for contest- ur fav poem u hv ever written
Sponsor- Carol Eastman
My fav coz it's reality based, true feelings of helplessness of the one concerned
and mine .
Now for contest- Vibrant verse 2
Sponsor- Charlotte Puddifoot
Categories:
toreador, heartbroken, hope,
Form: Kyrielle
There was a dashingly hansom young Toreador
Who slept on the floor of a corridor
But things they got worst
When he met this cute nurse
Now he sleeps in her medical storage draw.
Categories:
toreador, funny, , cute,
Form: Limerick
"Curls...
Of spring passion?
Lacerations of decadence?
coiled in ringlets at the nape of her neck-
light wrapped in strands iridescent and bent
toward her silhouette's kiss.
Shadows on a match box painting
absorbing the skin and silk shed cloth."
Frozen air movement shakes me awake
as another museum goer
brushes by my sleeve in an attempt to read
the description... (I am nose close...)
Tremendously, I pull myself away
to the Hallucinations of a Toreador
pulling the scope out on my looking glass,
for one is finely tuned, painted with the single hair of a wishing bow...
and one is the size of my heart, unraveled and sky scraped,
and yet remarkably blurred to initial understanding.
I toss aside propriety and sit down on the ground,
Indian style, in front of grandeur-
a mist of streaming people dissipating my vision
of the surreptitious melting clocks, oozing time
all over the floor, soaking my favorite shoes...
And so I pass the afternoon alive,
briefly breathing in the dusty air and DNA of genius.
Categories:
toreador, art, happiness, people,
Form: Free verse
Spanish bells to break the sun
a million diamonds come unspun
spiral plumes to yearning earth
holding it's mouth agape
Albeniz in fingerprints
plucking strings in quick descent
brings to mind the toreador
to Dali hallucinate
Catch the sun drops in your hand
with the rhythm in demand
We are chords to strike and sing
a melody delicious
Feel the swell and taste the air
filled with Spanish savoire fare
Dance under the diamond rain
gaping mouth in heaven.
Categories:
toreador, art, happiness, life, music,
Form: Free verse