this one's about an ex-boyfriend of mine...it felt like i was waving a red flag while he was charging in...
The bull is pawing at the gate,
Chomping at the bit,
Desperate to make a go of it.
In the red corner stands the matador,
Thus untouched by horns
Yet knowledgeable,
Aware of the damage to be done.
She takes a step forward
As the bull leans into the gate,
Staring it between the eyes
Yet searching within his soul,
So the bull grunts,
Meaninglessly after one fleeting encounter.
The chains are off,
The gates are open,
The bull aware of its target,
Intent on penetrating it
Yet the matador skirts,
With no better bull committing,
Pondering the merits of the tussle.
The bull stamps, marking his territory
And claiming his stake,
Conjuring the spoils of victory prematurely.
Skirt a-tug the matador
Turns to find the bull
Initiating the reflex reaction,
Which is now executed in deliberate style,
Pushing the bull away,
Clinging to the idea
Yet suffocating for fear.
The holes left in the sheet
Torn by those very horns,
Allowing the matador to escape.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 520 times
Written on 2006-09-17 at 03:39
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In The Ring
The bull is pawing at the gate,
Chomping at the bit,
Desperate to make a go of it.
In the red corner stands the matador,
Thus untouched by horns
Yet knowledgeable,
Aware of the damage to be done.
She takes a step forward
As the bull leans into the gate,
Staring it between the eyes
Yet searching within his soul,
So the bull grunts,
Meaninglessly after one fleeting encounter.
The chains are off,
The gates are open,
The bull aware of its target,
Intent on penetrating it
Yet the matador skirts,
With no better bull committing,
Pondering the merits of the tussle.
The bull stamps, marking his territory
And claiming his stake,
Conjuring the spoils of victory prematurely.
Skirt a-tug the matador
Turns to find the bull
Initiating the reflex reaction,
Which is now executed in deliberate style,
Pushing the bull away,
Clinging to the idea
Yet suffocating for fear.
The holes left in the sheet
Torn by those very horns,
Allowing the matador to escape.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 520 times
Written on 2006-09-17 at 03:39
Tags Courting 




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