NaPoWriMo Day 13. Today’s poem is called La Tomatina which is an annual festival held in the Valencian town of Buñol and here is a picture of La Tomatina
La Tomatina
A single shot fired
to start us off.
We, being newcomers,
were timid at first;
cautious in our targets.
We picked our chosen
tomatoes one by one
from the vast mound,
squeezed them
until they were soft
and took measured aims.
Less reserved
were our neighbours
who scattered the fruit
like a hail of bullets.
Caught in the crossfire
we grew in confidence,
grabbing handfuls
and slinging them
indiscriminately
with all the gusto of a local.
Thick red juice
dribbled down our arms.
We were pelted
and we pelted back.
Before long
we were head to foot
in a ruddy paste.
When it was over
we looked for hoses
to wash ourselves clean.
We slipped and slid
along scarlet streets
laughing hysterically,
the taste of bitter tomatoes
still in our mouths.
