Adventure Poems
Running With the Bulls
by Jeffrey Pipes Guice
The Feast of San Fermín: July 6 - July 13
The encierro (Spanish for a bull run) begins with runners singing a benediction. It is sung three times, each time being sung both in Spanish and Basque. The blessing is a prayer given at a statue of Saint Fermín, patron of the festival and the city, to ask for the saint's protection and is translated into English as "We ask Saint Fermín, as our Patron, to guide us through the encierro and give us his blessing." The singers finish shouting, "¡Viva San Fermín! and Gora San Fermin! ('Long live Saint Fermin,' in Spanish and Basque, respectively). Most runners dress in the traditional clothing of the festival, which consists of a white shirt and trousers with a red waistband (faja) and neckerchief (pañuelo). Also, some hold the day's newspaper rolled to draw the bulls' attention to them if necessary.
A first rocket is set off at 8 a.m. to alert the runners that the corral gate is open. A second rocket signals that all six bulls have been released. The third and fourth rockets signal that the herd has entered the bullring and its corral, respectively, marking the end of the event. The average duration between the first rocket and the end of the encierro is two minutes and 30 seconds.
The encierro is usually composed of the six bulls to be fought in the afternoon, six steers that run in a herd with the bulls, and three more steers that follow the herd to encourage any reluctant bulls to continue along the route. The function of the steers, who run the course daily, is to guide the bulls to the bullring. The average speed of the herd is about 15 mph.
The length of the run is about 957 yards. It goes through four streets of the old part of the city (Santo Domingo, Ayuntamiento, Mercaderes, and Estafeta) via the Town Hall Square and just before entering into the bullring through its callejón (tunnel). The fastest part of the route is up Santo Domingo and across Town Hall Square, but the bulls often separate at the entrance to Estafeta Street as they slow down. One or more would slip going into the turn at Estafeta ("la curva"), resulting in the installation of anti-slip surfacing. Now, most bulls negotiate the turn onto Estafeta and are often ahead of the steers, resulting in a quicker run. Runners are not permitted in the first 50 meters of the encierro, an uphill grade where the bulls are much faster.
Every year, between 50 and 100 people are injured during the run. Not all injuries require taking the patients to hospital: in 2013, 50 people were taken by ambulance to Pamplona's hospital, nearly doubling in 2012. Goring is much less common but potentially life-threatening. In 2013, for example, six participants were gored along the festival; in 2012, only four runners were injured by the horns of the bulls, with precisely the same number of gored people in 2011, nine in 2010, and 10 in 2009, with one of these last killed. As most runners are male, only five women have been gored since 1974. Before that date, running was prohibited for women.
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Rowing for Home
by Richard Randolph
We cut the mooring lines
and quietly paddled into the bay.
The ocean dared us onward
there was nothing left to say.
The stars, those distant travelers,
silently guided us on our way.
“Looks pretty rough,” old Johnson noted,
and spit defiantly into the sea.
“We’ll never make it,” the young ensign asserted,
......
The Slopes of Kilimanjaro
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
From the lofty snowcapped peaks
of Kilimanjaro
The morning mist envelopes its verdant foothills in a tight embrace,
No need to hurry, this is not a race,
Beads of sunlight dancing across the glistening dew.
As the plains of Amboseli reveal their golden hue,
There's movement spied where none existed moments prior,
A herd of Zebra lounging in their elegant attire,
The lush grasslands beckoning them for yet another day.
......
A World Without Pity
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
After wishing me a good morning, he said that it was all set,
It was time to raze the house, even though I wasn't in debt!
But they wanted to build a big highway, exactly in this spot,
Like a beaver zealously builds his dam, by any means he's got.
The city had emminent domain, which was certainly the way of it.
Though offered twice the home's value, I liked it not one bit.
"The tree on this lot is a hundred years old," I said to the man,
......
A trip to Tsango Lake
by Nimesh Bhandari
As the Roads crawled Teesta, flanked by hills,
We climbed up the valley, to stay with the clouds still.
As the peaks of snow suddenly appears,
The fate of the road, the turn, makes it disappear.
But My eyes still gazed for the beauty divine,
Their touch, their ego, so feminine.
At the hut we stop, to salute the tricolor,
And the echoes of the Anthem are in the valleys fervor,
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12. Limbo
by Kea Campbell
I want to die,
But not really,
And, ironically, that's the tragic part.
I want to feel, but only content.
I want to taste, but only sweet.
I want to see, but only beauty.
I want to live,
But not really,
And, ironically, that's the tragic part.
......
Rowing for Home
by Richard Randolph
We cut the mooring lines
and quietly paddled into the bay.
The ocean dared us onward
there was nothing left to say.
The stars, those distant travelers,
silently guided us on our way.
“Looks pretty rough,” old Johnson noted,
and spit defiantly into the sea.
“We’ll never make it,” the young ensign asserted,
......
The Slopes of Kilimanjaro
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
From the lofty snowcapped peaks
of Kilimanjaro
The morning mist envelopes its verdant foothills in a tight embrace,
No need to hurry, this is not a race,
Beads of sunlight dancing across the glistening dew.
As the plains of Amboseli reveal their golden hue,
There's movement spied where none existed moments prior,
A herd of Zebra lounging in their elegant attire,
The lush grasslands beckoning them for yet another day.
......
Journey
by Okunola iyanuoluwa
In the road in my car i am,
I turn the dial, searching for a familiar tune,
Jazz, a pop, any instruments to bring my sustenance,
Miles pass, the road stretching endlessly ahead,
Static takes over, silencing the music,
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An Enchanted Doorway
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was a sophisticated, world class traveler, like merry wind in green trees.
I had seen hottest deserts and rain forests, where songs will never cease.
I had traveled by planes and by trains, by luxury ship, fast car and camel;
And I had roamed mountains and valleys, like the comet, taking a gamble.
I had visited myriad cultured nations, meeting diverse, interesting people,
Like divers beautiful, sultry colors, with which the artist stains gilded easel.
Since I'd had various adventures, I was anxious that one day I'd be bored,
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