This is a collaboration about love, wine , blood, sweat and tears; dreams and promises, life and death with the perfect Spanish twist that Pappa Heminway loved so much.

A collaboration between AuthorsDen's Poetess
Ms. Sheila Grenon Gypsy Purple Passion and Georg Edvard Mateos




(by Georg)

“A bull waiting in its enclosure snorting death
the sands are warm and the end will be soon,
my body tight embraced by embroidered dress
that Bullfighters wear on their heights of noon.”

“Saw in the bleachers all the beautiful mantillas
but the most precious one in white…it was yours,
inebriating like an ocean full of red Rioja’s wines
running on naked skin wanting to feel my love.”

“Doors opened and the furious dark beast came out,
stopping with hoofs staccato dancing the flamenco,
with malevolent challenging eyes searching enraged
for anyone daring, an enemy to kill, not his brother.”

“A red carnation flew high and landed at my feet,
as the maddened bull and Bullfighter eyed each other,
like we did, in a long feverish night of false promises,
but with a genuine all consuming fire inside our cores.”

“Wrought-iron bars guarding your wide open window,
we were drunk, drunk with the grapes of so much love,
inebriated with the gods elixirs and nectar of pleasures
where life and death to both would no matter anymore.”

“I dreamed by nights that by coming day we will be
the beautiful Lady Señorita with the famous Matador,
as in my naiveté I was to be the very last knowing that
you weren’t free, but the wife of don Manuel Salvador.”

“Maybe for you the charade was worth of a few laughs,
but you see, now this tricked dumb bullfighter knows,
and that snorting enraged beast waiting in front of me
is one of the many a “beast” that your husband owns.”

“Nothing will be more appropriate that this one Corrida
should be end with a wounded heart pierced by a horn,
and let all and every grain of sand for every spoken lies
to be washed clean, one by one, with drops of my blood.”

“But I remember the divine taste of that river of red wine
trying to cool down from your naked skin all its fervor,
as I drank every one of the playful and teasing rivulets,
having you wholly, inebriating, with the tip of my tongue.”


(by Sheila)

To the honored man who loved
my heart pure my dear Matador
I truly loved you and only you…
and always I will!
when you saw me at your last bull fight
(as you called it that afternoon)
in my white embroidered lucky dress
holding your red carnation perfumed
with my womanly scent which
was I, who threw it at you feet,
I wished you to win and in our
passionate love's victory
our all consuming love would have gone
down in a recounted history…
suddenly I knew you were angry
but your name was carved on my heart
and you didn’t see my tears which
vowed of never to be apart.

We will only drift in uncertainty
in the cold ocean of loves memories
you were always my true chosen
this is my bitter and regrettable lesson...
the Matador I truly loved
and simply adored not knowing....
my heart would be forever destroyed
is what he, my dishonored marido told me,
to the waiting rocks of the Spanish shores
I would to be thrown down the cliff
Is what he, told me in his wild misery!
The stress he could not take
as he yelled this night after night
in my fright my love, this poem
I had to write of secrets words about
my undying love, I only gave to you...
I tried to forget you, this Senorita
of lonely heart and mind.

I continued my penance for my
unlawful love inside my heart,
penitence didn’t set me free
as I still remember the night
you captured my youth with a kiss.
I could never be without you
if I could not be with you
then I couldn't live without you
this is all my heart knew.
My Knight in shining amour one
my heart got destroyed that afternoon
if was left cold and lonely on the arena
that was getting wet with Matador’s blood.
Your' lovely Maja, as you called me
on summer nights a whispering guitar
from my rose strewn balcony, till no more,
silence you left me with roses thorns
and alone I won’t go on any longer.

Nights of our unbridled passions,
my soul is withered and barren after
you ran away through death’s archway
to escape a lie that you believed
were coming from me, my tender love,
it was an unfounded doubt,
our magical passion believe me
it was true as the Virgin prayers I gave
asking for you to be spared.
The night I engraved your name
In the deepest corner of my heart
which no one could delete even by force
for the rest of all my nonliving days!
I will always love you, brave Matador,
which never showed fear when confronted
with the piercing flesh of the bull’s horn,
I was for you that new world to discover
you should had claimed me, Conquistador.