Best Bullhorn Poems
she was all like - there's something i have to tell you
but before she gets to say it
his ex wife shows up
he's all like - she's going to be staying with me
she says - for the weekend
he says - for the summer
as he walks away you see regret all over her face
you know if he knew
you know he'd give his eye teeth
that's the way they tell stories
life however is not a scripted story
it doesn't work like that
people in love
one's the fridge
the other's the magnet
you can't avoid that kind of attraction
your lips are locked before your mind even kicks in
love is like that
you don't walk around it
it is an a to b and it is direct
you don't walk through one door
just as she walks out another
you can be in a huge city
somehow you both walk in to the same restaurant
somehow you're both alone
less than a second later
you are glued to one another
super glued to one another
there is no where
no where else you want to be
you are stuck together
like a tongue on a frozen metal post
no matter how painful it is
you are exactly where you want to be
you don't ah and hum around it
you shout it from the rooftops
you use a bullhorn
you are anything but shy about it
you know what love is
love is EVERYTHING
no one
i mean no one
dances around love
love owns you
when they write stories
they feed their audience
the same crap they’re used to
me?
i'll play some games
you know 'suspension of disbelief'
but love
you have to serve me a five star meal
you don't settle for less
when love
when your EVERYTHING
is the topic
What is love?
The North Star guiding
a lost seafarer home
or the Siren’s song luring
him to the rocky shores?
Is it frolicking in the moonlit
nights in a field of flowers
or trudging across
an arid, scorching desert?
Is it a freeway to bliss and joy
or a meandering trail
through a rugged terrain
of grief and woe?
Is it a cup of hemlock
or a chalice of nectar?
Is it a snake pit
or a bridge over the chasm
of hatred and bigotry?
Is it an ever-elusive mirage
or the rock of Gibraltar?
Love is all that and more
and yet it’s nothing,
A mere emotion, a feeling,
At first blush, irrelevant
and yet it’s an impetus, a catalyst--
An euphoria permeating our entire being.
It is here, it is there,
and it is everywhere...
Yet, it is nowhere!
It creates mayhem and chaos
if it turns and walks away.
Love knows no boundaries,
It follows no customs or creed;
It cares not for any
race or language.
Not unlike air and water
or the enlivening sunlight--
Vital in good measures
devastating in excess,
Vexing as a thorn but
as enticing as the fragrance.
Love is but love!
No one has seen it
Yet everyone is touched by it,
Its constant presence is overwhelming
Yet you’ll never find
if you go looking for it,
It traverses distant shores,
Yet it doggedly never
leaves your threshold.
You are born with it
but never can you own it,
Forever it hovers around you
but never can you rein it in.
“Love is a many-splendored thing”.
Yet none can explain its true meaning,
It would call through a bullhorn
and you may not hear it,
It merely whispers in your ears
and turns your life topsy-turvy,
More furious than the flowing lava
It would give you the chills if provoked.
He indeed is a poor soul
bereft of hopes and dreams
who befriendeth not love!
~05/02/16
~Free Verse on Love contest by Laura Loo
~"Love turns the world around"
contest by Nayda Ivette Negron
The reason the radicals are slapping labels on you
Is because you're strong and refuse to be silent.
One thing they love is a dog that rolls over.
One thing they fear is a fighter who throws down.
Never give in to the bullhorn -cancel crowd.
Never be silenced because silence is death.
For you and our faith-fight to the last man.
At times you've got to tap them in the mouth.
Tinkle on their campfire, then lay them to rest-
meteors
shooting stars
the Pleiades
Orion's Belt
the Little Dipper
the Big Dipper
stars
galaxies
the moon
satellites
police helicopters
sirens
a bullhorn
time for breakfast!
A politician using a bullhorn
places it over the mouth
Though given the stuff that comes out
it ought to be positioned down south
A Convict on the Loose
By Elton Camp
It was eight o’clock and we’d settled for the night
But little traffic was passing so our street was quiet
One of our favorite movies was just about to begin
When Eye Witness News abruptly came breaking in
“It’s a serious announcement that we interrupt to tell.
A convicted murderer has just broken out from his cell.
He was seen heading for the residential neighborhood,
He has sworn that to escape he’d do anything he could.”
The newsman explained he was dangerous and armed
And that, while escaping, two people he had harmed
“We don’t want too much the public to disconcert,
But everyone should remain cautious and on alert.”
My wife and then exchanged some worried glances
“I’ll check the doors. There’s no use taking chances.”
The doors were locked and all seemed secure to me
So I walked back to the family room to watch TV
The old movie had just barely gotten underway
When a noise at the door a presence did betray
The unexpected sound made me cringe with fear
After dark, nobody to our house should come near
It’s got to be the evil criminal they warned about.
Of that scary fact, I didn’t have the least doubt
To the door it would be extremely foolish to go
I felt a sense of total terror beginning to grow
I lifted the receiver and quietly dialed 911
“Send a policeman to our house on the run!
It’s just awful how dangerous this is sounding.
As on our back door a vicious man is pounding.”
Very soon, there was a siren and a flashing light
Outside our door we heard yelling and a fight
A bullhorn called, “We have caught the crook.
Now please come on outside and take a look.”
On the ground, hands cuffed behind his back,
Was our next door neighbor, young Joe Black
The man was angrily cursing and having a fit
“To warn of danger I came. This is what I get.”
What is love?
The North Star guiding
a lost seafarer home
or the Siren’s song luring
him to the rocky shores?
Is it frolicking in the moonlit nights
in a field of flowers
or trudging across
an arid, scorching desert?
Is it a freeway to bliss and joy
or a meandering trail
through the rugged terrain
of grief and woe?
Is it a cup of hemlock
or a chalice of nectar?
Is it a snake pit
or a bridge over the chasm
of hatred and bigotry?
Is it an ever-elusive mirage
or the rock of Gibraltar?
Love is all that and more
and yet it’s nothing,
A mere emotion, a feeling,
At first blush, irrelevant
and yet it’s an impetus, a catalyst –
An euphoria permeating our entire being.
It is here, it is there
and it is everywhere…
Yet, it is nowhere!
It creates mayhem and chaos
if it turns and walks away.
Love knows no boundaries,
It follows no customs or creed;
It cares not for any
race or language.
Not unlike air and water
or the enlivening sunlight –
Vital in good measures
devastating in excess,
Vexing as a thorn but
as enticing as the fragrance.
Love is but love.
No one has seen it
yet everyone is touched by it,
Its constant presence is overwhelming
Yet you’ll never find
if you go looking for it,
It traverses distant shores,
yet it doggedly never
leaves your threshold.
You are born with it
but can never own it,
Forever it hovers around you
but never can you rein it in.
“Love is a many-splendored thing”*
Yet none can explain its true meaning,
It would call through a bullhorn
but you may not hear it,
It merely whispers in your ears
and turns your life topsy-turvy,
More furious than the flowing lava
It would give you the chills if provoked.
He indeed is a poor soul
bereft of hopes and dreams
who befriendeth not love.
(*Love is a many-splendored thing", Lyrics by Paul Francis Webster.)
~"What Love is?" contest by Bobby May
Boy, you Folks sure have a lot of Nerve!
You empty your Corporate Colostomy Bags,
On the same Workers that filled up your Greedy Guts,
Then pay them off with their own Bloody Rags!
Have you no Shame? You Clowns! Have you no Soul?
Your Mantra seems to be a bit One-Sided,
More Money! More Money! More Money Boys!
You hoard the Cheese and keep the Mice divided!
Those Long Corporate Strings are strong and stretch for Miles,
You Dangle your Puppets and Dance them till Dawn.
"But, how dare "They" ask "Us" for Concessions,"
"Gee, can't they see that their Labor Leash is On?"
From their Lofty Loft, they "Blow" that Big Bullhorn,
Jump! Jump when we say "Jump" all you little "Slaves!"
"Breaks? Benefits? Bonuses? Insurance? Pensions?"
"Your list of Rights are "Moot" unto your Graves!"
"So, Adapt to your Strings that Feather no Wings,"
"Shove your Grievances up your Bowel Syndrome Rears!"
"You Demand our "Trust?" Then "We'll" give it to "You,"
"We'll pay you off with "Dust" for all your Faithful Years!"
after painting the town,
there is an odor in the air
untouched and reeking of
uh oh
unfinished business can
always break through
the smokescreen
substitute
when the spike is thrown
back in the air, where it
lands is where life left
its bullhorn
the peaceful dream excursion
is over, and the acidic bookmark
is tossed back in the solution
for another time when an escape
from the norm is needfully needed
Disappointing Setback
Six long months they worked
sixteen bright and eager minds
planned our art event.
Artists looked ahead,
painting, framing their great works
for our yearly show.
Then the day arrived;
charcoal, moisture-laden clouds
shed their dreaded tears.
Bullhorn blared the words
heard with sad and heavy hearts...
"cancel the art show."
Artists packed their gems—
lonely display fences stood
naked in the fog.
Work of six months straight
quashed by nature's fickle whim
to spoil our event.
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place
Premiere Contest: Setbacks
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
That time of day when sweet birds songs intrude
And thoughts of yesterday warm my minds brood
I turn the page to days when love was true
Your voice on my heart was a sunny coo
But now the light of day turns wintry blue
The hearth is cold where I once warmed with you
If only your lotus bloomed in winter
Then I would hope amidst snow and winter
That time of day when a heart waxes worn
The birds tweet their songs to a heart that stings
Their song is a cacophonous bullhorn
And a heart echoes in veins of cold strings
That time of day when still cold the heart sings
And cold throes of a wistful winter will sting
Maybe one day at city square
I'll scream your name in a bullhorn
and post a flyer on every flag pole
my confession of loving you.
I have no fear of the consequences. Love's
the true culprit and I am its robot in action,
who can blame my madness?
Maybe one day you'll have pity on me
and stop your indifference bound to melt
once you get to know me, who knows.
I know love's in the air and you only need to
open your heart to its distinct possibility, the
arms, and kisses, will do the rest.
Maybe one day you get tired of my nuisance
and throw the towel, conquered by my resilience,
who knows, love's a crude affair of the heart, not
a school discipline.
Maybe one day you finally read one of my poems
that honors our love and promises deliverance
to the bosom of happiness.
Maybe one day you'll fall in love with me
madly.
Once said
A wee whisper
A mere seedling
Broadcast into
A harvest of hate
A bullhorn of bull
Once weeded out
But not eradicate
Muffled
But not silenced
The harvest is back
Verdant fields of lie’s
Grow wild among us
Words of hate printed out
Pressing on the impressionable
Tearing down tolerance
Breaking down brotherhood
Building up walls of isolation
Closing doors to sanctuary
We MUST head off hate
Tear down those walls
of ignorance
Blow open the doors to wisdom
Smear the words of war
And SCREAM...
NEVER EVER AGAIN!!!
We've many differences.
You yearn for and demand respect.
I prefer to earn it but couldn't care less...
if you respect me or not.
You shove a bullhorn in my face.
Force-feed me your warped points of view.
You put a blowtorch to my faith.
I believe in dialogue, and I'm willing to listen; are you?
I fancy energy independence.
You don't mind drinking oil from the spigot of terrorists.
While spraying me with green philosophy.
All the while running just as fat as I am.
You're anything but lean.
I respect the sovereignty of my country and others,
With a big, beautiful mahogany door and welcome mat.
Just on the other side of a secure border.
I like a fair vetting process based on merit with some semblance of order.
You've a rose-colored revolving door from hell.
Bringing sprinkles of heaven and maelstroms of chaos and death...
onto my front porch.
I like giving all beings a chance at living.
Just like you and I were given...
Funny how you'll grieve over a stillborn.
But turn cold when the unborn are torn into pieces.
You hate my God and me for believing.
Want to cancel my peace and freedom,
You're an atheist, but I'll defend your right.
to not believe in -then leave you to your peace.
Because I extend a hand in friendship,
You think I'm soft and a pushover.
Just in case you chop it off.
The other hand is clawed and spring-loaded.
Willing to put you six feet under the clover.
Oh, say can you see the land of the freebie
and the home of the ungrateful bleating.
Where borders are blown wide open by vote vamps.
To the glee of coyotes -desperados -the depraved.
Stars and stripes replaced by the heartless-shooting blanks.
Where elitist stick shanks into the faith of good people.
Who're deemed racist for standing for a starry banner... disgraced.
The trinity was tossed long ago into cancel culture canyon.
Were last seen thumbing it down Route 666 in a flash flood.
As the cultists put another bullet in Honest Abe's head.
While looters and rioters and cop killers were martyred.
Working-class stiffs were slit open- bled out from either end...
into the collection plate of the jackass-fascist and Uncle Sham...
Where goodness was woven into the fabric of evil and mayhem.
Upon burning looms of crooked buffoons and bullhorn goons.
In the land of the freebie and the home of the ungrateful dead.