The Bull
See an old unhappy bull,
Sick in soul and body both,
Slouching in the undergrowth
Of the forest beautiful,
Banished from the herd he led,
Bulls and cows a thousand head.
Cranes and gaudy parrots go
Up and down the burning sky;
Tree-top cats purr drowsily
In the dim-day green below;
And troops of monkeys, nutting, some,
All disputing, go and come;
And things abominable sit
Picking offal buck or swine,
On the mess and over it
Burnished flies and beetles shine,
And spiders big as bladders lie
Under hemlocks ten foot high;
And a dotted serpent curled
Round and round and round a tree,
Yellowing its greenery,
Keeps a watch on all the world,
All the world and this old bull
In the forest beautiful.
Bravely by his fall he came:
One he led, a bull of blood
Newly come to lustihood,
Fought and put his prince to shame,
Snuffed and pawed the prostrate head
Tameless even while it bled.
There they left him, every one,
Left him there without a lick,
Left him for the birds to pick,
Left him there for carrion,
Vilely from their bosom cast
Wisdom, worth and love at last.
When the lion left his lair
And roared his beauty through the hills,
And the vultures pecked their quills
And flew into the middle air,
Then this prince no more to reign
Came to life and lived again.
He snuffed the herd in far retreat,
He saw the blood upon the ground,
And snuffed the burning airs around
Still with beevish odours sweet,
While the blood ran down his head
And his mouth ran slaver red.
Pity him, this fallen chief,
All his spendour, all his strength,
All his body's breadth and length
Dwindled down with shame and grief,
Half the bull he was before,
Bones and leather, nothing more.
See him standing dewlap-deep
In the rushes at the lake,
Surly, stupid, half asleep,
Waiting for his heart to break
And the birds to join the flies
Feasting at his bloodshot eyes, -
Standing with his head hung down
In a stupor dreaming things:
Green savannas, jungles brown,
Battlefields and bellowings,
Bulls undone and lions dead
And vultures flapping overhead.
Dreaming things: of days he spent
With his mother gaunt and lean
In the valley warm and green,
Full of baby wonderment,
Blinking out of silly eyes
At a hundred mysteries;
Dreaming over once again
How he wandered with a throng
Of bulls and cows a thousand strong,
Wandered on from plain to plain,
Up the hill and down the dale,
Always at his mother's tail;
How he lagged behind the herd,
Lagged and tottered, weak of limb,
And she turned and ran to him
Blaring at the loathly bird
Stationed always in the skies,
Waiting for the flesh that dies.
Dreaming maybe of a day
When her drained and drying paps
Turned him to the sweets and saps,
Richer fountains by the way,
And she left the bull she bore
And he looked on her no more;
And his little frame grew stout,
And his little legs grew strong,
And the way was not so long;
And his little horns came out,
And he played at butting trees
And boulder-stones and tortoises,
Joined a game of knobby skulls
With the youngsters of his year,
All the other little bulls,
Learning both to bruise and bear,
Learning how to stand a shock
Like a little bull of rock.
Dreaming of a day less dim,
Dreaming of a time less far,
When the faint but certain star
Of destiny burned clear for him,
And a fierce and wild unrest
Broke the quiet of his breast,
And the gristles of his youth
Hardened in his comely pow,
And he came to fighting growth,
Beat his bull and won his cow,
And flew his tail and trampled off
Past the tallest, vain enough,
And curved about in spendour full
And curved again and snuffed the airs
As who should say Come out who dares!
And all beheld a bull, a Bull,
And knew that here was surely one
That backed for no bull, fearing none.
And the leader of the herd
Looked and saw, and beat the ground,
And shook the forest with his sound,
Bellowed at the loathly bird
Stationed always in the skies,
Wating for the flesh that dies.
Dreaming, this old bull forlorn,
Surely dreaming of the hour
When he came to sultan power,
And they owned him master-horn,
Chiefest bull of all among
Bulls and cows a thousand strong.
And in all the tramping herd
Not a bull that barred his way,
Not a cow that said him nay,
Not a bull or cow that erred
In the furnace of his look
Dared a second, worse rebuke;
Not in all the forest wide,
Jungle, thicket, pasture, fen,
Not another dared him then,
Dared him and again defied;
Not a sovereign buck or boar
Came a second time for more.
Not a serpent that survived
Once the terrors of his hoof
Risked a second time reproof,
Came a second time and lived,
Not serpent in its skin
Came again for discipline;
Not a leopard brght as flame,
Flashing fingerhooks of steel,
That a wooden tree might feel,
Met his fury once and came
For second reprimand,
Not a leopard in the land.
Not a lion of them all,
Not a lion of the hills,
Hero of a thousand kills,
Dared a second fight and fall,
Dared that ram terrific twice,
Paid a second time the price. . . .
Pity him, this dupe of dream,
Leader of the heard again
Only in his daft old brain,
Once again the bull supreme
And bull enough to bear the part
Only in his tameless heart.
Pity him that he must wake;
Even now the swarm of flies
Blackening his bloodshot eyes
Bursts and blusters round the lake,
Scattered from the feast half-fed,
By great shadows overhead.
And the dreamer turns away
From his visionary herds
And his splendid yesterday,
Turns to meet the loathly birds
Flocking round him from the skies,
Waiting for the flesh that dies.
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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Related quotes
Lyric four bulls
Woman walked in forest alone
Met man
Man aroused appetite for her
Man ran and knocked his head on tree
Tail grew out
Hairy jaw grew in mouth
Hind legs grew
Man metamorphosed because was
Lion cannibal
Tried to attack man
Woman asked cannibal
‘’where’re your four
red and white bulls’’
‘’Do you know them’’
‘’Yes, you sing their
Oldest lyric’’
Cannibal laughed
In hoarse voice
Sang,
‘’One red and white spotted bull is sold
One red and white bull spotted is stolen
One red and white spotted bull is swallowed
One red and white spotted bull is scattered
On earth, scattered on earth, on earth, on earth……………….., cannibal sang tune of ‘’scattered on earth’’ happily for long and until
He napped and woman disappeared.
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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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
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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
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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
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Cain and Abel
Western Version
Cain and Abel were brothers born.
(Koop-la! Come along, cows!)
One raised cattle and one raised corn.
(Koop-la! Come along! Co-hoe!)
And Cain he farmed by the river-side,
So he did not care how much it dried.
For he banked, and he sluiced, and he ditched and he led
(And the Corn don't care for the Horn)--
A-half Euphrates out of her bed
To water his dam' Corn!
But Abel herded out on the plains
Where you have to go by the dams and rains.
It happened, after a three-year drought,
The wells, and the springs, and the dams gave out.
The Herd-bulls came to Cain's new house
(They wanted water so!--)
With the hot red Sun between their brows,
Sayin' "Give us water for our pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em--"No!"
The Cows they came to Cain's big house
With the cold white Moon between their brows,
Sayin' "Give some water to us pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em--"No?"
The li'l Calves came to Cain's fine house
With the Evenin' Star between their brows,
Sayin' "'Give us water an' we'll be cows."
But Cain he told 'em--"No!"
The Herd-bulls led 'em back again,
An' Abel went an' said to Cain: --
"Oh sell me water, my brother dear,
Or there will be no beef this year."
And Cain he answered--"No! "
"Then draw your hatches, my brother true,
An' let a little water through."
But Cain he answered: -"No!
"My dams are tight an' my ditches are sound,
An' not a drop goes through or round
Till she's done her duty by the Corn.
"I will not sell, an' I will not draw,
An' if you breach, I'll have the Law,
As sure as you are borne! "
Then Abel took his best bull-goad,
An' holed a dyke on the Eden road.
He opened her up with foot an' hand,
An' let Euphrates loose on the land.
He spilled Euphrates out on the plain,
So's all his cattle could drink again.
Then Cain he saw what Abel done--
But, in those days, there was no Gun!
So he made him a club of a hickory-limb,
An' halted Abel an' said to him: --
"I did not sell an' I did not draw,
An' now you've breached I'll have the Law.
"You ride abroad in your hat and spurs,
Hell-hoofin' over my cucumbers!
"You pray to the Lord to send you luck
An' you loose your steers in my garden-truck:
"An' now you're bust, as you ought to be,
You can keep on prayin' but not to me!"
Then Abel saw it meant the life;
But, in those days, there was no Knife:
So he up with his big bull-goad instead,
But--Cain hit first and dropped him dead!
The Herd-bulls ran when they smelt the blood,
An' horned an' pawed in that Red Mud.
The Calves they bawled, and the Steers they milled,
Because it was the First Man Killed;
An' the whole Herd broke for the Land of Nod,
An' Cain was left to be judged by God!
But, seein' all he had had to bear,
I never could call the Judgment fair!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Butcher's Courtship
"On, my Mary Ann," he side,
" Will you be my loving bride ? I cannot liver 'nother day without you.
Your bright smile lights up my heart,
Whisper yes, beefore we part, And the tenderlines of love I'll cast about you!"
Then the rascal, growing bolder,
Drew her head upon his shoulder, While the ribbones on her bonnet fluttered free,
And fore-quarter of an hour
They reclined within the bower, And she promised him she ever true would be.
" Now," says he, " I must be goin'—
Don't you hear the cattle loin ? I can tarry here no longer, love, to-day;
You can steak a silver dollar
I shall be a steady caller; Keep your pluck and spirits up while I'm away!"
Then he turned to cross a mead Where the horned cattle feed,
And wasn't paying very much attention To the gender of the herd, When there suddenly occurred
An accident he fain would never mention.
He chanced to look a round, When towards him, with a bound, Came their masculine protector o'er the lea;
And so brisket seemed to him That his chance was rather slim To flank him, or to even shin a tree.
He was bull dosed, so to speak,
Sorely rumpled, cowed and weak, And will steer hereafter clear from bulls and cows.
The tail, alas! is sad;
Would'st shun a bull that's mad ? Then beware the quick contraction of his browse!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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El Toro
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
Theres a legend of a famous matador
Who went to meet el toro
Though he fought as he had never done before
He could not beat, el toro
The bull el toro, brought him defeat and pain
And to his sorrow, the matador knew shame
They said time would never heal the many scars
Brought by the great, el toro
And the bitterness that burned deep in his heart
Caused him to hate, el toro
The bull el toro, brought him defeat and pain
And to his sorrow, the matador knew shame
So one night, when no-one was on sight
The matador, went to finish the score
In the lonely fields, beneath the pale moonlight
He fought the bull...and they fought once more
When they found the matador and saw him dying
Hed never see tomorrow
Now they say that on the spot where he was lying
Still walks the proud el toro
The bull el toro, brought him defeat and pain
And to his sorrow, the matador knew shame....
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monkey and Goose, Snake and Bull, and Tiger Lou
Monkey and goose
Snake and bull
And there friend tiger lou
Met at hummingbird's garden
For afternoon tea for two
In hummingbird's garden
Raised the most precious colors
Be they red or blue, pink or white
To all who viewed
It was such a dazzling sight
Somewhere between succulent sips
The question of God's existance
Became more than a quip.
Where is it that God can be found?
Is he here upon Earth's holy ground?
Then goose said, 'I will fly across
This land, my wings are strong and
When it comes to tiring, I have no end
From high away I can see, so please
For certain, I am the one to send.'
Monkey said, 'I can swing from
Tree to tree all day long
So high that I can see
Every aspect of the land
So if anyone goes, let it be me.'
Snake said, 'I will slither, I will crawl
Across the swamp, across the bog
If this God exists surely
I will be the one
To bring back a certainty
Bull steps in as to be not excluded,
'I will cross the plains from end to end
I will search from dawn to dawn
If there be such a place
It will be found by me on Earth's green lawn.'
Tiger steps up with a growl,
'I will go searching in the fields of rice
I will go where the sugarcane grows
I will not stop, so cast my lot,
When I come back, it will be told.'
Then they left, each on a separate road
And they would be gone for many a day
But then there came to pass
Goose and monkey, snake and bull, and tiger lou
Met at hummingbirds with finished task
Goose said, 'I have found God
And I know the only way.'
'Say hey, ' said the monkey, 'for you are all wrong
Through the woods have I found God
It's through the woods all day long.'
'Nay, ' snake had to say, 'I found God
And only I know the way.
Across the swamp, I'm here to state
Is the only way to him
Anything else is tempting fate.'
Bull bellows loudly most of all
'You fools, I have searched for days and days
It's across the fields of grass
That you must go to God
All of your remarks are so crass.'
Tiger lou darkened his eyes,
'Idiots! the devil has fooled you all
If you seek God, I and only I know the way
So appoligize or step away back
To show you let me say.
Then there was a viscous roar
Monkey strangled goose, snake bit monkey knee
Tiger bit snake in half, then bull flung tiger
High into the sky, breaking his back with a crack
Bull burst his heart with such strength, didn't linger.
Hummingbird in her garden was sadden
Began humming and humming a song
The song turned into into a chant that flew to heaven
Where God was and is today
Waiting for searching souls, that he will never abandon.
Monkey, goose, bull, snake and lou
Before God stood, looking blue
'Have you anything to say? '
But only silence crossed their lips
'Only I know the way
Only I am the way
Only through me can there be a way.'
poem by Midnights Voice
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On This Love
Strong as a bull, i need you my love;
Bold as a lion, i want you my love;
But to be cut down like a grass is what we don't need on this love.
An eagle soars in the air like the strong kiss of our lips,
But a serpent glides over the rock like the romance of our nakedness;
But to be cut down like a grass is what we don't need on this love.
A man wins his way with a maid and,
We are withered away like a green plant;
But a ship floats in the middle of the sea like the passions on our love.
This is what we need on this love,
Light to him or her who is in misery;
This is what we share on this love,
Life to the bitter is spirit;
For those who forsake the law praise the wicked.
My love will always be with you,
Because your love is the key to my successs;
Like the food in summmer and the food of winter!
So cast your bread upon the waters that you may gain the morrow.
On this love,
You are all that i think of to put things right;
But strong as a bull is the love that we share together.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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
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No Bulls-Hit
Pink rain fell on the matador's hat
As the bull she'd slain lay beneath her feet
Its mouth a gap its nostrils still flared
And its life and tearblood rushed from his splayed chest
No tears or words were used as slowly her blade was drawn from flesh
And when the spray of rain did cleanse the blood
The blade gleamed like cupid's cursed arrows
And the edges seemed sharper than its irony
She stood there with the bull's scarred heart lying out an offering
And slowly she turned claiming his death for her game
She is a matador and evasion is her game
The nearer came the bull the better fun for her
Till finally straight on he near caught her
Now he lays dead.
poem by Evan Histed
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Being a Tiger, Being a Bull
I was born in 1962, the year of the tiger
In the chinese astrological callendar
but in the Zodiac wheel of time
I'm a Taurus, a bull by design
A man with a purpose, by his own admission
hard, yet soft, but never a remission
I'm understanding, romantic, peaceful at heart
sometimes hard deaded, that's the Bull from the start
But I'm happy for who I am
a very possitive and gentle man
and trust me, it's not so cruel
when at times I'm a Tiger, and others a Bull.
(Charlie Vergara/06.11.2009/1395)
poem by White Tiger
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Love And Live To Win
1.
Love is not bull-fight
to tame the bull or be gored.
A love buff's great fall.
2.
Is our married life
a gladiatorial combat.
Both of us should win.
3.
He craves for her glimpse.
But she gives iPad and pen.
Will her heart unlock?
4.
Eyes see all pirates;
the waves of youth buffet her.
But her heart decides.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Bullfighter Was A Lady
(words & music by sid tepper - roy c. bennett)
Pedro the bull was a killer
King of the bullfighter ringer
Hed wipe up the floor with each brave matador
And have matador stew for his dinner
He heard the crowd shouting ol
But he met his master that day
The bullfighter was a lady
And it was true love at first sight
Her red cape was waving but pedro was shaking (or shaving? )
He wanted to date her that night
Ol
Pedro the bull he was smitten
First time the love bug had bitten
He once was a mad bull, a wild and a bad bull
But now he was mild as a kitten
The people were starting to hiss
But pedro just wanted to kiss
The bullfighter was a lady
And pedro he liked what he saw
He floated on air with a rose in his hair
As he waltzed with that sweet matador
His fate was a bad one, his tale is a sad one
Its hanging right over her door
Ol!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Angus Bull
Out there in the paddock I hear the black bull
He never stops bellowing when the moon is full
I wonder does the moon effect him in some strange way
For I've never heard him bellow in the light of the day
The full moon does effect people 'tis said
It has an unsettling effect in the head
And if a mental weakness in humans the full moon can find
Why not it too effect the animal kind
He has his herd of cows with him yet I do wonder why
He bellows all night when the moon's in the sky
During the hours of day he is always so quiet
And I've never heard him bellow on a dark night
But he never stops bellowing when the moon is full
Out there in the paddock the black angus bull.
poem by Francis Duggan
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By the horn
Heightened excitement and a little fear
The matador faces a bull, with a crowd behind him it lessens his care
Frustrated, harnessed to entertain
Frantic charging with poor aim
Targeting this red rag, the bull has missed
While the matador plays to the crowd and blows a kiss
A stroke of luck, our bull has made contact
While the matador feels sheepish, the crowd witnessed the fact
Carried by his breeches he's tossed up high
Oohs, aahs, the crowd sees his breeches torn
He attempts to cover his modesty as they are exposed by a horn
Heartened, our bull charges again and delivers a better aim
Escape is on hand as the matador takes flight and is tossed into the stand.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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The Crazy Bull
Look out, here comes a crazy bull
He is crazy
Hide behind the fence, my love
He is coming fast
Just toss me your jacket
And I will fight him for you
Toro, Toro, Toro
Enter the arena
everyone
Is watching me now
Toro, Toro, Toro
Crazy bull
Little by little
I am taming you
They are going to open up the gates
To his pen
So this beaten bull can leave
Now he returns back home
Looking like a lamb
Toro, Toro, Toro
poem by Mercedes Zoller
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Picasso's Skull Caps Occupied Horses Falling
events blasts centre stages frog marches
occupied horses falling in countless agonies
run through spear javelin bayonet thrusts
large gaping torn wounds realities cruelties
horse's sides life bleeds potent swift years
devoured bull dictators devour ripe bellies
view human skull death brews demon changes
overlays victim horse's body escape crushed kneels
gore fleet horse freedom underneath deceptions
bull's horns gore tossed rent sacrifices flesh forms blood rivers
break escape equestrian front facing legs sanctuary sought shelters
seeks knee blood ground knee in groin leg's knee wobble forms
skull caps counting coup taken head's nose concussion bleeds
horn appears within horse's breast to savage despair steal souls
bull's tail forms images flame worship incendiary burning bombs
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I think we're in the beginning of a bull market. When a bull market begins, nine months later the economy turns around.
quote by Sumner Redstone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man cannot be chaste.
One bull can manage ten cows.
One cow cannot stand ten bulls.
A woman is at ease to be chaste.
To be so is man’s distaste
29.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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