by Tim Chiu
A poem glamorizing the sport of bullfighting, its matadors, and fans.
|The fierce, competitive bull eyes the color red
And charges mightily at the scheming matador,
Who flashes the brightly-hued linen at the vicious animal.
Our well-fated hero then vanquishes the cloth
From the beast’s limited vision
And sends him hurtling past,
Momentarily phasing his angry pursuer.
The brave and placid bullfighter,
Sporting a gem-studded gold and black vest,
Sequined, striped pants that extend to his knees,
And a black triangular, moose-like hat,
Proceeds to provoke the bull even further
By piercing his large, ominous frame
With numerous, feathered barbs.
The tired, injured bull eventually succumbs
To the cruel taunting and endless stabbing,
And our warrior’s assistants come to claim
Their murdered, hapless victim.
For enduring this remarkable showdown
Between courageous human and vile predator,
The bullfighter receives raucous cheers
And delicate flowers tossed into
The tensely combative, onerous ring.