Take the bull by the horns and the man at his word.
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The bull should be taken by the horns, a man at his word.
A Bull For Me
I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending
ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no Revelation
but just animal nature in its nudity
being a bull
just animal, its eyes and mouth and horns
just all coming together to form one creature
a portrait of a bull anytime for me
Sirs and most inimitable Ladies
none of the Holy Ones and the Great Prophets
and the Mighty and the Divine
and the Grand-Looking:
no bull for me, please;
just the plain head of a bull, as it is
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You grow by drives
The bull got horns to fight with.
The horse has no horns for that.
The horse learnt running to escape by.
Skill grows in adopted ways,
As demanded by sex and safety.
It is a myth the God fevours
For each growth and each loss.
Gravels turn to pebbles by force
28.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It’s the second day that I visit
It’s the second day that I visit
on the farm near Reivelo,
just past Vryburg.
They farm with cattle, goats,
a few sheep, muscovy ducks, turkeys
and chicken.
The scrambler bumps up and down
right through the field
and go past rocks and bushes,
while we drive along the rough field
and the hot wind
cut across my face
and there are places
where it cannot go.
It’s time to transform
young bulls to oxen,
to brand cattle
and to cut their horns
and I get a black stallion
to ride into the field.
My cousin rides in front
with a brown Arabian mare
and there are bushes
and flat slabs of rock
and small hillocks that we past
to try and round up young cattle
to the corral.
It’s nice to be a cattle herder
for a time
and to use legs and heels
and reigns,
to round up cattle in the field.
Every thing goes well until
I chase a young black bull
just to the entrance of the fold,
where it stops stubbornly
and doesn’t want to move
a feet further.
I jump out of the saddle,
fasten the reigns
to a small branch
and rush to the obstinate bull.
It stands and snorting
and stamp its feet
and when it sees me,
it rushes confused
at the horse.
That faithful horse stands firm
while the bulls horns swishes
onto the reigns
and the horse
stops that bull in its tracts,
that a piece of the bridle
breaks right off.
Then I am at the bull
and pull the reigns
out of its horns
and it walks meek
into the corral,
while in astonishment
I stand and look at that animal.
With a knee-strap
and pliers in the nose
we draw the bull to the ground
and when we shear it,
it moans like a heifer
and there’s a burning smell
that goes up from the branding iron
and I see the horns
dropp at my feet
and it’s another beast
when it stand on its feet.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't take the bull by the horns, take him by the tail then you can let go when you want to.
quote by Josh Billings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You take a bull by the horns and a man by his words.
The horns of the sister are horns of gold; the horns of the wife are true horns.
Spiral Horns
My bull spiral horns
Like fishing rod
Spun horns like branch and
Bough of tree
We spray cattle in forest
In name and honour of my bull
I mock those who beat drum of war
But can’t dance in battleground
The monkey groans
The falcon scramble hens
If nothing happened
All men are men even who
Will whine like women
If war comes to teeth of cows
The monkey groans
The falcon scrambles hen
I find husband of buffalo sick in
Brave sickness I kill him by spear
Until lay head down
I find husband of man in brave fury
I kill him by spear until lay head down
I find husband of lion in brave cancer
I kill him by spear until lay head down
The monkey groans
The falcon scramble hen
poem by David Aoloch Bion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper Mache Bull's Horns
images screaming ghosts
paper mache bull's horns
tearing apart peace dreams
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Halos & Horns
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
Hearts that are torn between what's wrong and ain't
Just because it feels right does not make it so
So we struggle through life in horns and halos
Tempted and tried with each step we take
We stumble and slide and make our mistakes,
Ask God to forgive us for all of our sins,
Then we take off our horns and wear halos again
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
Hearts that are torn between what's wrong and ain't
Just because it feels right does not make it so
So we struggle through life in horns and halos
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
We're praised or we're scorned, we either run or we faint
Oh, but life is a challenge from the day that we're born
Just tryin' to balance halos and horns
It's heaven or hell, halos or horns
Halos and horns, sinners and saints,
Hearts that are torn between what's wrong and ain't
But just because it feels right; well, that don't make it so
So we struggle through life in horns or halos
It's either horns or halos
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And for me the only way to live life is to grab the bull by the horns and call up recording studios and set dates to go in recording studios. To try and accomplish something.
quote by John Frusciante
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
The Bull Moose
Down from the purple mist of trees on the mountain,
lurching through forests of white spruce and cedar,
stumbling through tamarack swamps,
came the bull moose
to be stopped at last by a pole-fenced pasture.
Too tired to turn or, perhaps, aware
there was no place left to go, he stood with the cattle.
They, scenting the musk of death, seeing his great head
like the ritual mask of a blood god, moved to the other end
of the field, and waited.
The neighbours heard of it, and by afternoon
cars lined the road. The children teased him
with alder switches and he gazed at them
like an old, tolerant collie. The woman asked
if he could have escaped from a Fair.
The oldest man in the parish remembered seeing
a gelded moose yoked with an ox for plowing.
The young men snickered and tried to pour beer
down his throat, while their girl friends took their pictures.
And the bull moose let them stroke his tick-ravaged flanks,
let them pry open his jaws with bottles, let a giggling girl
plant a little purple cap
of thistles on his head.
When the wardens came, everyone agreed it was a shame
to shoot anything so shaggy and cuddlesome.
He looked like the kind of pet
women put to bed with their sons.
So they held their fire. But just as the sun dropped in the river
the bull moose gathered his strength
like a scaffolded king, straightened and lifted his horns
so that even the wardens backed away as they raised their rifles.
When he roared, people ran to their cars. All the young men
leaned on their automobile horns as he toppled.
Submitted by cutebabystar
poem by Alden Nowlan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Word
Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru.
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.
Defiance
The bull had come from sturdy stock,
standing defiant in his field.
His eyes they stared as if to mock,
the answer was to be revealed.
From being just a tiny dot,
he was now thundering at speed,
Then I was face to face and not
at all sure how he would proceed.
Perhaps he would just toss me high,
and throw me up into the air.
He plainly meant to terrify,
his nostrils had begun to flare.
I faced him staring eye to eye,
but he just snorted, turned his head.
And as his horns just passed me by,
he calmly sauntered back instead.
With such relief, my heart was stilled,
I felt my life had just been spared.
Not one dropp of my blood was spilled,
but in those moments, I was scared.
Of them, one can be sceptical,
one juncture quiet, then in a rage.
They are a daunting animal,
no bovine to try and upstage.
The bull had come from sturdy stock,
I quite admired him for his brawn.
But when they start to run amok,
you just don’t want to be the pawn.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man is valued for his word, the ox for his horns.
Take a man by his word, take a bull by its horn.