Related quotes
The breeding programs for the bulls have improved significantly. The bulls are at a much higher caliber.
quote by Chris LeDoux
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lion and the calf shall lie down together but the calf won't get much sleep.
quote by Woody Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A cowboy from down Pecos way,
On the bulls he just couldn't stay.
So he bought super glue,
Then said proudly I knew,
I could stick to the bulls one fine day.
quote by by Juan Olivarez (16 March 2011)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Know Your Mother
A cow knows which her calf is.
A calf knows which its cow is.
God knows me who see not Him.
Instead, I know my mother.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Calf and the Giraffe
Once upon a time was born a gentle brown-eyed calf
Who lived near a zoo and met a tall, wise giraffe.
The calf said to the tall, wise giraffe, “Come and run with me.”
The giraffe replied, “I can’t since I live within these walls you see.”
The confused brown-eyed calf asked, “Can’t they let you out.”
The giraffe smiled and asked, “Do you know what a zoo’s about? ”
The gentle calf said, “You did something wrong so you’re in jail.”
The wise giraffe laughed and explained that his was a happy tale.
He said, “For everyone who visits the zoo there’s so much joy I give.
As one day you’ll love your babies and teach them how to live.
So let’s enjoy every day and look forward to what’s in store.
Then both of us can give to others since that’s what life is for.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bull Fighting
Bullfighting
Early morning on the flatland between Portugal and Seville a cockerel crews,
its hoarse wakeup call carries for miles. Vaqueros are already on the grassland
separating bulls form a herd; the bulls are five years old and have been chosen
for the bullfight. Within a week the selected bulls will be dead, slaughtered on
an arena of sawdust and sand, they have been allowed to roam free for years.
Most animals only live a few years, mostly in a pen, and never see grassland
before they are killed. How can meat eaters demonstrate, call for the abolition
of bullfighting? This sport, the only one, where an animal has a chance to kill its
assassin. I’m on a bus heading for Seville to see bullfighting, yes, I do admire bull
fighting; if lucky I might see one of the chosen bulls kills the toreador.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Milkcow Calf Blues
(Robert Johnson)
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Well, well, you have a new calf, hoo hoo, and your milk is turnin' blue
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
[Spoken:] Now, you know that calf done got hungry
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
Well, now, but the milk is turnin' blue, hoo hoo, and I believe he's outta luck
Now I feel like milkin' and my, cow won't come
I feel like churnin' it and my, milk won't turn
I'm cryin' plea-hease, please, don't do me wrong
You can give-a right milk and butter, now, baby, you-hoo, will stay at home
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
She been troublin' some other bull cow, hoo hoo
Lord, in this man's town
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Famous Dog Story
The story I am about to tell you it well may be true
For the one who told it to me for to give him his due
Is one who does not make up stories nor neither is he
One prone to imagine it would seem to me.
We were swapping dog stories myself and old Lew
Of dogs we heard tell of and dogs that we knew
Of dogs who are honoured in story and rhyme
The history of their greatness has lived on in time.
But the best dog story he told me was one I heard before
When I was a young school-boy going back five decades or more
The greatest dog story that he can recall
Perhaps is the greatest dog story of all.
A story from early Spring the weather was cold
The red shorthorn calf had strayed from her mother a young five days old
In the field by the farm-yard the cow bellowed around
But her calf did not reply and was not to be found.
The farmer searched for her with Shep his brown cattle dog
But no trace of the calf in the field by the bog
He then thought the calf may have strayed and in a bog hole drown
Still no trace of the young heifer though the bog he searched up and down.
But in the gray dawning of the very next day
Old Shep the brown dog to the yard made his way
With the red heifer calf suckling on the end of his tail
That the clever dog had dipped into a full milk pail.
The mother cow was delighted her calf she did lick
And none more relieved than the old farmer Mick
As he patted his dog you're a hero he did say
This a famous dog story that lives on today.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taxidermists
To the calf-less cow, a stuffed calf
Serves as a stimulus. She is in fantasy
To squash her teats.
To a thirsty man, a woman in photo
Or in thought is held in fantasy
To release his seeds.
Cow is fooled. Man is self-fooled.
09.08.2000, Paralakhemundi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keeping The Hundred Healthy Bulls
in keeping a hundred healthy bulls
inside my chest
i keep my fences high and strong
but for how long?
the hundred healthy bulls
are kicking their hoofs
and hungrily breathing and dreaming
and soon
will be running
for how long?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Parable
a frog, always the frog
has always been a frog
servant to the fog, but
one frog one day decides
to be a bull to the dismay
of the frogs in that little pond
to the ridicule of the bulls
nearby but the frog learns
to be a bull and bully has
he become until one day
he gains the respect of the
other bulls to the pleasure
of the sun to the disdain
of the fog on the hills
nothing is impossible
to the power of the mind
this the frog follows
through and through
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Over With A Revolver
It's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.
Closure too so many traumatic events.
From the mountain into the great valley is the descent.
The weight is so heavy.
Yet I'm still dragging it.
Sooner or latter we all have let it go.
And this time it is all I know.
It's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.
Such devotion has been through such a roller coaster ride.
An ocean tells me secrets of making a disposal.
Time to get rid of the time when you made your proposal.
An identity I must hide.
Let smoke and mirrors reflect the biggest lie.
An illusion within the eyes.
It's already over.
It's already over.
Oh my god it's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.
I blame no one.
I blame everyone.
A fault can not be defined by a single event.
An preposterous idea that it was something that you could prevent.
The poison was already in my system.
It spoke in demon tongues.
A evil energy already breathing among the living.
My heart was already gone.
It's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.
It's already over.
It's already over.
Oh my god it's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.
Of all emotion.
The tears will never fall again.
A mother is cradling a already forgotten grave.
The death to the foolish moth willing to enter flame.
A forsaken child of god is one that does not know he has sinned.
A sentence of unknown hurt and pain.
An experience of the insane.
He sits upon the killing fields with bloody hands.
For him this is no game and it will have no easy ending.
It's already over.
It's already over.
Oh my god it's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.
Of all emotion.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Right On The Money
Lets begin with the day I met her
How fast this good old boys world got better
Sky got bluer, the grass got greener
Just the first few seconds after I first seen her
Like my favorite song on a new set of speakers
My best old jeans and my broke in sneakers
A home run pitch floating right down the middle
The sweet music made when the bow hits the fiddle
Shes
Right on the money
She goes directly to my heart
And when it comes to loving me
Shes everything, I mean bulls eye perfect
Shes right on the money
Shes no red lights when Ive overslept
Shes a three point jump shot thats nothing but net
A hand full of aces, the dealers done dealing
Im forever on a roll, thats how shes got me feeling
Shes
Right on the money
She goes direct to my heart
And when it comes to loving me, shes everything, I mean bulls eye perfect
Shes
Right on the money
Shes the best cook thats ever melted cheese
I aint much around the house, but I aim to please
Theres absolutely no reason to doubt her
When she says I wouldnt last ten minutes without her
Shes
Right on the money
She goes directly to my heart
And when it comes to loving me
Shes everything, I mean bulls eye perfect
Shes
Right on the money
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Journey Home
The elephant was on her way,
Her calf was close nearby,
You should've seen their bodies sway,
Both marching, heads held high!
'Keep up with me! Left, right! Left, right! '
The calf was telling Mum,
The two of them were quite a sight,
Since so far had they come...
For many miles, the calf endured,
Without a thought to stop,
But Mum, of course, was quite assured,
His legs would flip and flop...
His trunk would droop and trail the ground,
His pace no longer fast,
With barely strength to make a sound,
As even more miles past...
And sure enough, she heard those words,
That parents often get...
The journey home, it's for the birds!
'Hey, Mum, are we there yet! ? '
'A few miles more! ' she told him straight...
He moaned and groaned, of course...
It's just right then, though life was great,
He'd rather be a horse!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Journey Home'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Merciless men
No bulls! All bullocks!
All castrated, libido arrested,
They toil for their men-folks.
All cows! Only to yield calves,
With no bulls to mate them,
Or to beat cows’ heat.
Just to milk for the folks!
Bulls no more masculine
To fall in love with cow;
Cows, though fully feminine,
Excite no male to copulate.
Cows are delivered of their calves,
Having never gone to sex,
By seminal injections.
Bullocks are stripped of peak of sex..
Creations go without lovemaking.
Men and women of all walks,
From sixteen to sixty or more,
Learn to groom their passion,
With hormones and fashion,
To entertain their orgasm,
By nature way or manipulation,
As often as they desired,
In multitudes and with multitudes,
Whether for a child or not,
More often for no procreation.
Devices are found against confinement
And for a high erotic enjoyment.
Lovemaking goes without creation.
Animals are killed of sexual joy
To multiple the race.
Men-folks are filled of erotic joy
To limit the race.
05.02.99, Dindukal
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cradle Song
Baby, O baby, fain you are for bed,
Magpie to mopoke busy as the bee;
The little red calf’s in the snug cow-shed,
An’ the little brown bird’s in the tree.
Daddy’s gone a-shearin’, down the Castlereagh,
So we’re all alone now, only you an’ me.
All among the wool-O, keep your wide blades full-O!
Daddy thinks o’ baby, wherever he may be.
Baby, my baby, rest your drowsy head,
The one man that works here, tired you must be,
The little red calf ’s in the snug cow-shed,
An’ the little brown bird ’s in the tree.
poem by Louis Esson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance of Darkness
Whisps of darkness surrond the soul
a dark drum beats
like a fearful heart
dance with me again again
darkness hear my plea
i wish to dance with you
as your goddess and creator
i call to you
Take the blood from the innocent who hides
and dance with me again again
darkness the white bull
i call to you
and as so you must abide
darkness dances like the meldoy of a demon
a white bulls toll is the blood of light
a black bulls toll is the love of innocence
take your pick and dance with me
dance with darkness
is to follow me
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be there an introspection
Parents type I:
You feed the dog;
It guards the yard.
You pay the maid;
She is your aid.
Bone and flesh,
Parents gave you.
Without their nod
You flee with a lad.
You are ungrateful;
Parents are indignant.
Parents type II:
Plants give flowers
For bees to hover.
Moon sends light
For lovers to delight.
Cow yields calf.
Calf selects the bull.
Your bone and flesh-
Out of parents’ blush.
Give bone and flesh,
With one you wish.
Your joy parents cherish.
They have no remorse.
Which parents are you-
The one demanding a return
Or the one retaining the love?
22.11099
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Unending Journey Does Not Know A Home
to the heart there is never a blank wall
the fences do not work
they always fail, the bulls of Manawan
are at it again, breaking free from the ranch
and going back to the Mountain
just as the sparrows that by chance entered
your room through an open window
though there were rice grains on that tray
soon shall fly away after every grain is consumed
the beasts and birds unlike you do not have a house
neither do they know of any home
so tell me, how can you understand a vagabond
mind like mine?
the bulls always want to break free
the birds migrate to distant lands
the whales inhabit no permanent ocean
every path is a passage
and if there are stops, they are just temporary resting stations
after a while
the journey takes everyone on their feet, their fins and wings
again....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bulls
Six bulls I saw as black as jet,
With crimsoned horns and amber eyes
That chewed their cud without a fret,
And swished to brush away the flies,
Unwitting their soon sacrifice.
It is the Corpus Christi fête;
Processions crowd the bannered ways;
Before the alters women wait,
While men unite in hymns of praise,
And children look with angel gaze.
The bulls know naught of holiness,
To pious pomp their eyes are blind;
Their brutish brains will never guess
The sordid passions of mankind:
Poor innocents, they wait resigned.
Till in a black room each is penned,
While from above with cruel aim
Two torturers with lances bend
To goad their fieriness to flame,
To devil them to play the game.
The red with rage and mad with fear
They charge into the roaring ring;
Against the mockery most near
Of human might their hate they fling,
In futile, blind blood-boltering.
And so the day of unction ends;
Six bulls are dragged across the sand.
Ferocity and worship blends,
Religion and red thirst hold hands . . .
Dear Christ! 'Tis hard to understand!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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