Heat In The Blood Poem by John Beaton

Heat In The Blood



Your festival stirs it, Saint Fermin. You bishoped Pamplona's see
till they severed your head and its sermons, the head that Saint Saturnine wetted
at the baptismal font in Toulouse. He was towed to his martyry
on a rope by a running bull. Now the cobbles are castaneted

by the beating of taurine hooves. The corral has its gates flung wide
and the bull-pack are surging like galleons as they forge through this flesh-and-blood strait
where, from fervor to fear, then to frenzy, the runners careen, saucer-eyed
as the Curva De Mercaderes makes a flume for the human spate.

They commit to what Hemingway wrote of so bravely but never once dared:
to tie on a scarlet bandana, drink wine, and, breakneck, to run
on the horns at the tips of the prongs, then to swerve for the throng and be spared
the cornada, the wound that would snuff out their Also-Rising Sun.

The bulls now explode through the Plaza, where, long before dusk, they will thrust,
pagan, against the estoque. And their blood will then steam from your dust.

Monday, September 17, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: bulls,religion
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
"The Sun Also Rises" is widely regarded as Ernest Hemingway's greatest book. In it he describes bullfighting and running with the bulls at Pamplona. I thought I'd try to capture the frenzy of that participation in a poem. I bracketed the running with the history of pagan rituals that led to it and with what happens afterward- the bulls travel the streets because they're the route from the corral to the bullfighting arena.

The poem is addressed to St. Fermin, the person for whom the festival at which the bull-running occurs is named. It's written in 14-line sonnet form with three four-line stanzas, each rhymed abab, and a rhymed closing couplet. The base rhythm is anapestic hexameter, i.e. each line has six anapests (da-da-DA) . There's a pause in the middle of each line so that the groups of three anapests, along with some alliteration and bulky vocabulary, mimic the power and pace of the running, e.g.

and the BULL-pack are SURGing like GALLeons (pause)as they FORGE through this FLESH-and-blood STRAIT,

This poem has been previously publishedand in print and anthologized by "Able Muse' and published in "Eyes On BC" and "Better Than Starbucks".
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kostas Lagos 18 September 2018

A well written, interesting poem. Glad I found it!

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