Short Bullhorn Poems
Short Bullhorn Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bullhorn by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bullhorn by length and keyword.
A politician using a bullhorn
places it over the mouth
Though given the stuff that comes out
it ought to be positioned down south
Shouts, Yells, Screams, Rants, Raves
Bullhorn-magnified Bombast
"Decapitate him!"
Why don't the police stop it?
What happened to enforcement?
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 mouthful
of hate
A bullhorn
of lies
Dissected
infected
With terminal
pride
Conscripting
the fledgling
Embedded
in brine
Indicted
convicted
True felons
— of time
(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
standing upon
a soap box
trying to make
point of view
be seen as only
way to be
yelling through
a bullhorn at the
masses gathered
around
pummeling the
crowd with a
hell storm of
subliminal messages
“As senior rooster ’round here, it’s my duty, and my pleasure, to instruct junior roosters in the ancient art of roostery” ~Foghorn Leghorn
Foghorn Leghorn
didn't need a bullhorn,
he had an egotist's way
of saying what he had to say.
You tickle my tummy
With laughter and tears
Creating sounds of cheer
Your billowing voice
With sounds of a bullhorn
Cause calm and peace inside
Without you I am silent
With you I am a clown
Honking my nose horn
With a painted on smile
Magic you bring to me
Under this circus top
Swinging from ropes
Never falling to the ground
Popcorn and candy as I hear
My tickling tummy
With Laughter and cheer
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
knock knock
who's there
tax collector
knock knock
who's there
tax collector
knock knock
knock knock
knock knock
tax collector
shhh maybe
he'll go away
(later that day
too agoraphobic
to go out and
play came
another rapping
almost rasping
upon my
chamber door)
knock knock
knock knock
knock knock
(a voice using
a bullhorn sighed
then said) i
know you're in
there
(no subtlety
has Death)
Form:
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-
Don't take it as song; what the media cackles.
They're just bullhorn harlots for politicians.
Who'd sell your marrow to the lowest bidder-
They lust for our division to maintain power.
For a people united is poison to them
(a cross in the face of a vampire).
Citizens united would mean term limits.
No more heavenly wage increases...
Their necks would be short leashed.
Insider trading would all but cease....
But only in a good citizen's dream.
I flipped on the bathroom light
a flicker in the tub swirled my head
there were three teensy tiny gremlins in there
I could not hear their words
If I got closer, would they disappear?
I hesitated not wanting to frighten them.
One of them pulled a teeny bullhorn out of his satchel.
“Please keep this viewing to yourself” he said into it.
This came out as a whisper.
I shut out the light and tiptoed out of the bathroom.
The Irish in my veins respects the privacy of the fey.