Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Wall Street to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
There's a bronze bull down on Broadway with his nostrils flaring wide,
And the tourists stand in line to take a picture by his side.
He was carried there one midnight when the market's heart was low,
A gift left in the darkness so the city's hope would grow.
His head is bent for charging and his tail is whipped in flight,
And the morning sun upon him makes his bronze look burning bright.
The children rub his polished nose, the brokers pass him by,
And some say he brings them fortune when the prices climb up high.
But I think he's standing guard there for the ones who lost their way,
A reminder that the bravest keep on charging through the day.
So lower your head like the bronze bull when the winds of trouble blow,
And charge into tomorrow, for the strong are made to go.
Poet of Wall Street · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
A famous bronze bull on Broadway becomes a symbol of courage after hard times rather than a charm for luck.
The bull stands “with his nostrils flaring wide” while tourists queue for pictures. He was “carried there one midnight when the market's heart was low,” a gift “so the city's hope would grow.” The sun makes “his bronze look burning bright.”
Some say he “brings them fortune,” but the speaker thinks he stands “guard there for the ones who lost their way.” The poem ends with advice: “lower your head like the bronze bull” and “charge into tomorrow.”