They struggle with a violent grace,
the bawdy cries of a bandoneon,
the open gash of her torn stocking.
They both understand
that naked desires come last,
first there is this ceremony,
the ritual goading
white flesh and dark shadows
must be rubbed
with an urgent blood.
This bar is a plaza de toros,
a place for the lace mantilla
to be torn away,
a dance floor for broken nightingales.
They are cheap wine,
but they know how to pour,
crushed and tied as they are
to the pressing moment.
The gap in her stocking
seems to reflect their deeper wounds,
holes where hope died,
and nothing they seek now,
can ever fill them.
Categories:
toros, poetry,
Form: Free verse
They struggle with a violent grace,
the bawdy cries of a bandoneon,
the open gash of her torn stocking.
They both understand
that naked hopes come last,
first there is this ceremony
the ritual goading
white flesh and dark shadows
must be rubbed
with an urgent blood.
This bar is a plaza de toros,
a place for the lace mantilla
to be torn away,
a dance floor for broken nightingales
They are cheap wine
but they know how to pour,
crushed and tied as they are
to the pressing moment.
The gap in her stocking
is not large
but its wound is deep,
and sadly nothing,
nothing they have to offer
can ever fill it.
Categories:
toros, poetry,
Form: Free verse
They struggle with a violent grace,
the bawdy cries of a bandoneon,
the open gash of her torn stocking.
They both understand
that naked hopes come last,
first there is this ceremony
the ritual goading
white flesh and dark shadows
must be rubbed
with an urgent blood.
This bar is a plaza de toros,
a place for the lace mantilla
to be torn away,
a floor for broken nightingales
They are cheap wine
but they know how to pour,
crushed and tied as they are
to the pressing moment.
The gap in her stocking
is not large
but its wound is deep,
and sadly nothing,
nothing they have to offer
can ever fill it.
Categories:
toros, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Matador
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: October/2015
Bravely
he
poses
before
the
gates
of
sudden death -
Poised
to
face
his
most
formidable
foe -
He's
the Toreros,
fearless
with
bullfighting
etched
way down
in
his soul.
He's
Debonair;
In
a
Traje De Luces,
holding
Banderillas,
and
Montera.
A
Matador?....
Yes,
Agile
with
grace,
His skills
are
mystic
Inside
the
Bull Ring
where
thousands
roar!
to
watch him
wave
his
Capote De Paseo,
to
the face
of
a charging
beast -
And
with each
narrow escape,
the
Matador De Toros,
hear's
the crowd
roar!
for
his artistry......
He's
a
flamboyant
maestro -
King
of
the ring -
Dressed
to
kill,
preparing
to
thrust
banderillas
Into
a bull,
upon
the blood red
dirt,
in
black
Zapatillas
Copyright (c). 2016 Ken Jordan
Categories:
toros, animal, art, courage, image,
Form: Verse
Limerick : Once a Toro loved by a Matador
Once a Toro* loved by a Matador*
Maimed between shoulders by Picador*
Matador garrocha*
Picador muchacha*
Picador cornudo* Matador.
*Toro : bull raised for fighting in arenas (rings)
*Matador : « matador de toros », bullfighter ; usually
the head « torero », title obtained after the
« alternativa », ceremony honoring the torero
or « novillero », the apprentice bullfighter
*Picador : the well-protected assistant to the matador
on horseback who wounds the toro between
the shoulders in order to cause the bull to hang
its head
*garrocha/garrochar : (to use) the long lance with a metallic
harpoon-like head , wielded by the Picador
*muchacha : Spanish for girl or « daughter » as in this case
*cornudo : cuckolded (husband gored)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
toros, humorous,
Form: Limerick
He readies himself to battle once more,
his cape bleeds red from another loss.
The scars he hides is what they all adore
Ruega humildemente, he kisses his cross.
Today he has another chance to die alone,
even though death is quite a familiar face.
Matador de toros, he will forever be known
there will be others who may take his place.
The beast now circles his new found prey,
ahora hay silencio, not a word is spoken.
On that quiet afternoon close to Santa-Fe,
the crowd applauds and the silence is broken.
A horned behemoth now infuriated with rage,
leaves tracks as it charges in for the kill.
Se engaña el toro, on this theater stage,
the audience amazed at the fighters skill.
The flowers are thrown from rows upon rows,
la gente está contenta, at this glorious display.
his own blood and tears all over his clothes,
a job well done as tomorrow is another day.
Categories:
toros,
Form: I do not know?
Under
The full moon
El Matador
Dressed in his Bolero
Held pose
His lean
Muscled form
Above the norm
Now shows a pounch from age
Still loved
Categories:
toros, adventure, art, fantasy, imagination,
Form: Cinqku