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Best Mongolian Poems

Below are the all-time best Mongolian poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Mongolian poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Mongolian Poems

 
Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Horses of cavalry

Hour ago raised the morning sun
The eastern army outnumbers the hussars fifteen to one
The battle has began
Hussar horses with thousand thundering hooves begun their run

Eastern army cannons and muskets will discharge
As the hussars push forward in awe inspiring charge
Before the muskets and cannons can recharge
The front of the hussar left wing is at large

The lances pierce through musketeers like a storm
The hussar charge starts spread far apart then single column like a spear it will form
Into one group of two different colors two groups previously separated will transform
The hussar charge is deep in the musketeers’ ranks the each commander his king will inform

The sea of lances comes down like avalanche or volcanic rain
The furry of battle is insane
Impaled warriors sometimes six all at once cry in pain
How could things look so bad for musketeers at those odds is hard to explain

It is the horses of hussars that caused musketeer breakdown
The horses that were mixes of Mongolian blood with that of the once bread by the crown
Mesmerizing is the speed with which hussars their enemy have cut down
And despite of larger enemy force it is the musketeers that in the blood would drown

It is those magnificent horses that hussars have bred
It is the speed that enemy would come to dread
Some horses were chestnut almost red
Some were colored like a puzzle white patches yet black head

Some white and some black like the night
Like hybrid horses hybrid number defines sun’s morning light
Normal horizon is destiny of Gods that mage would incite 
So with hybrid number as horizons just imagine power of its sun’s light

But that power is mind not the soul
And it is black stallion with visage as deep as the soul
Dark means deep and stallion is black as coal
He represents the deepest essence of free unbound soul






Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2014

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Until My Story is Told

What makes us beautiful is not color,
But just a handsome heart and an effulgent cerebrum,
So as much as we dwell in this world,
We are one blood each with only a soul,
So folks let’s stroll away from our domains,
To the palatial planet we dwell in,
Which has different races; Caucasian, Mongolian, Negroid among others,
With different ambient, languages and ethos!
But that doesn’t halt us from drinking from the same river,
Because we are all Jehovah’s semblance!
And we are all children of the earth,
Who didn’t choose our own races,
Neither did our parents nor great grandparents!
So let’s just fuse as kin and kith,
No matter where we are, or come from,
We are all coherent!
We are one blood.
We are all human beings,
Who have souls and shadows!
And we all pass on,
When it’s our time to rest in peace!
Africa, America, Antarctica, Asia, Australia and Europe
We are one,
And we wear the same uniform.
Colors are just layers


Copyright © Bryan De Poet | Year Posted 2016

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Day in My Life

Waking to the call to prayer near a Turkish mosque 
Blowing “bonjour” to passersby in chic, classy France 
Nibbling cheese on a snow-capped mountaintop in Switzerland 
Printing footsteps across the linen snow in Siberia 

Singing with the birds on the Mongolian grasslands 
Gathering simple smiles along a street in Indonesia 
Strutting past all the windows down Fifth Avenue 
Dancing with the pouring rain in the Amazon 

Inhaling the love swirling in the Darling Harbour breeze 
Planting kisses on the sparkling gems of Angola 
Tasting the spice-laced air in a crowded market of Morocco 
Leading a weary camel through the desert of Arabia 

Then near the end of the day I 
Wade across the Red Sea to catch 
The sunset on the golden Egyptian sand and 
Lay back to count the stars 
With my head against a date palm tree 
Somewhere in the silent darkness of Afghanistan.


Copyright © Christy Chiang | Year Posted 2009

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Suns journey

Where once samurai roam with katanas on the side
Where now electromagnetic trains glide
Where tsunami comes with a tide 
In Japan sun has raised silver blue moon to hide

 The sun goes on to Mongolian plane
Sometimes fallowing airplane
As it looks at saiga antelope its heart is filled with pain
There were once so many of them on the plane

It stops by Primoyre
It looks upon when Siberian tiger will snore
It already glided through Australia’s shore
In Syria it caresses with its light crusaders’ castles from ancient lore

As the zenith comes it is shining upon pharos tomb 
Because of its light this tomb
This pyramid for a soul is a womb 
On the way through Europe it saw sage bloom

As it flies through the ocean sunset is a dream
The orange and violet beauty of sunset will gleam
Below it in ocean sharks and whales will swim
Antigravity boats will one day replace motor boats as they replaced ones powered by steam

 Now the sun is above Great lakes
It traveled long distance from the moment it wakes
As it looks down at children eating cakes
It marvels at their innocence yet wonders what each later of the world makes

As it goes to Alaska it also stops by the Golden Gate Bridge 
It admires men who build it with skill and courage
But it knows that even though for long time will last the bridge
It is nothing compared to counter balance to life that created sun’s visage




Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2015

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Japanese 10 shilling note at Kokoda in 1942

Kokoda Ten Shilling note.........................

Johnno had been out a tracking Japanese , in Kokoda's , misty green...
It was 1942, smell of death, slaughter so obscene.......
Suddenly two Japanese appeared, Don fired and death was there.......
Just pointed the old Tommy gun, two bursts two bodies, yair.....(aussie yeah)
Don checked the Officer first and found a ten bob note....
Invasion money for Australia , in case you didn't know it?.......
 Bertie had wounded another Japanese, a big Mongolian type....
He was kneeling saying the Lords prayer, Bertie smashed his skull to tripe....
Brains splattered up Dons back as he found the ten bob note....
And Bertie muttered 'we're here to kill Jap's ' checking the pockets of his coat....
.45 was old Tommy gun, one or two in a Japanese brisket....
And Death appeared as cruel and hard as the Aussie Army biscuit....
After that Don went alone to find the enemy line....
Treading carefully sniffing the breeze, for the hay smell, Jap divine.....
Drover Dick wanted a prisoner, to talk of old Tojo...(Colonel Dick Marson)
But they mostly died in a bayonet fight or a bullet made em slow.....
You heard the little rattle as the Japanese loaded a bullet....
And after 5 shots from his Arisaka , fixed bayonet you just knew it....
Bayonet parry or a butt slap, spike him quick as you will....
To spill your blood hes coming, stop the bugger with a 45 cal. pill.....

Don Johnson .written Anzac day 2010...Anzac Day when we remember our war dead...
as Don Johnson of the 2/25th Battalion said of Kokoda the butcher shop.

http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush/


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2010

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Swing

Three young kids sit on the double swing
In nearby woods nightingale will sing
As kids swing on the swing
They talk about everything

They talk about adventures in distant places
Light of joy lights up on their faces
To the south tropical beaches 
To the north cold breezes

The animals like polar bear in frozen tundra 
Mongolian death worm in distant Asia
Wolves chasing caribou following the alpha
Komodo dragon, ropen from New Guinea, and Indian king cobra

View from the swing is far towards north, south, east and west
Each of brothers will have his own quest
The swing is place where they will rest
As they will expand their families crest

The swing reaches far to the air to great expanse 
The vastness of that expanse
Makes children’s young souls with joy dance
It is like a dream a romance

But as fresh air reaches the lungs the vision inside it will turn to transcendence
The vision of to universe counterbalance
The spirit that will begin as one writing universe laws and end in brilliance 
Equal radiance at the end from base and planetary destiny absolute eminence 

In worlds most distant waters children want to swim
But for now let them dream
Swing so small so large to a child will seem
They will remember the wonder years when one day they realize their dream






Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2014

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Traveling Ancient Roads

Foraging through time's annals
Peering through the faded panels
Catching a glint through corroded channels
Seeking the sallowing bridges to re-enamel
Shuffling along desert lanes beaten down by Assyrian 
chariot trains
Walking subsumed Royal Persian road, linking cultural 
chains
Striding through exhumed Alexandrian cities' 
ethnocentric strains
Strolling pebbled Roman boulevards accentuated by 
aqueduct drains
Riding the Mongolian steppes listening to the murderous 
refrains
Traipsing through gold-crowned Ottoman mosques 
sprouting Christian veins
Lumbering penitently along Via Dolorosa grasping 
sacrificial blood stains







Copyright © Stephen Parker | Year Posted 2012

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Day I Lost my Virginity


my assassin hisses from behind the curtain
there's nobody here
with a stand up comic's grin
so he turned to practical jokes
the gods tumbled spire over minaret 
suffering a vigorously impious scorn
the pit bull lobby eventually had him banned
for making life into a pastoral meadow
but reposeful bliss eluded him
a nervous and fearful bliss 
was on all his channels
it was a game of hobbled feet
marrying truth to insanity
and created a race of juggling pundits
ringing like temple gongs
inherently bourgeois anarchist epicureans
I know wanting what is  best
is not always pretty
but nothing padded his gaze
observe the scale and the detail
the ruling class toiling all night
gave us minds and wills and forgetfulness
arise from the dead said the angel Mr. Blinky
kiss my sassafras ass said Billy Nitro
Scamper his Mongolian chihuahua
barking and snapping in emphasis
the times of laughter are over
he canted in all silliness
so fuck it laugh anyway 
this is a limited time offer
you've read this you can't unread it
but what choice did I have
chronically coming up empty handed 
flapping in the wind and no condom
vast and complex was Blinky's hypothermia
from deep within the Putumayo
a million chimeras cried for blood
the lava flowed round Pele's feet
upscale and chic descended to shopping cart
as the armless Venus glided towards him
fresh from a dump in a 3rd World squat toilet
all love and germs in a clueless crescendo
freed him from omen slavery
Pol Potted the world of its many assholes
Venus pulled him close
her hot breath made his hairs dance
she exhaled softly
you don't have to scream
to keep yourself awake
she could read a phoneme 
like the moon in the river
decked in elliptical pearls
as they pronounced us man and woman
their chief hipster said crazy man crazy
you are a freak like us
act accordingly



From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
http://tinyurl.com/nhfk6dr


Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mongolian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The epic of Stela, PART 7

Glorified by citizens with teeth and jaws eager for ravenous bites and by the elites to fill their greed with the looted sweat of the slaves, which they scorned, and gold from the vanished souls 
Osman, who founded the Ottoman Empire, from the valley of west Anatolia, a dynasty was born for longevity, which lasted for six centuries

The game of expansion, ascension and an endless thirst for gain, the gamble with souls by kings has never changed the quest of any throne, nor the minds or greed of his enemies 
Suleiman the magnificent, erected the peak of the empire when his light was dim, the empire encircled in black clouds 
The seal of the kingdom “Ever Victorious”, dominated the lands and seals the fate of mankind, like any empire, with swords and cannon balls showering over any inhabitants or crowds
 Continents were under this vast empire from Europe to Africa to Asia, the Balkan, the Mediterranean basin and even the red sea was forced to submit and sign

It was thought the empire was immortal, when the world was in mediaeval darkness, it cannot see or live the day under no lord, kings or sultan
Greed no longer satisfies the thirst for dominance, but the impish avarice is the supreme lust for conquering destruction
The Turks quest to defeat the Byzantine was once relieved when Tumur, the Tatar khan fragmented the Empire and sultan Bayezid I, ended up under Mongolian sword in a dungeon
For decades the empire was in a civil war, until sultan Mohamed I, restored the dynasty and the empire to its former glory

Sultan Mohamed the conqueror, defeated and ended the Byzantine Empire and captured and freed Constantinople and started the coherent and the triumphant Ottoman story
And so did Murad I, when he seized most of Hungary and the polish lands and many cities around, in blood submerged and  drowned
Sultan Salim expanded to the east, capturing Safavid Persian kingdom in the battle of Chaldian, and so Egypt, and Arabia, were no more to have a free town
When Hungary subdued to Suleiman the magnificent, the wonderful Vienna with imperial palaces, the Habsburg monarchy and the Dunlop River remain triumphant and beyond breach
 
Despite Ottoman’s guns shrilling through the thick clouds, the smoke of guns darken the rays of sun with the murky winds of terror and siege 
The walls of Vienna stood high, cheering for freedom and independence, victory on the other side was reluctant and the Turks lost their plight and retreated with their cannons and compass
In Mesopotamia, Sumer, “the land of civilized lords”, cursed since the dawn of history by foreign invasion and atrocities, was again under submission, by Persians, Alexander then by sultans
Horn of Africa and the Indian Ocean, the red and Mediterranean seas and so the Arabian Gulf, became the harbor and feast for the fleets of the magnificent Suleiman

Armenian, Assyrian, Greek and many others have lost countless souls, uprooted from the homeland with silent tears on sand when they marched, their tales were buried for centuries, but their last breathe still echos in the sky 
The dreams of any emperor, sultan or king, are of endless games of win, grief and gain, played with rattling skulls, bones and swords with an endless why and cry
 The faces of the victims were printed on the throne and every crust of spears, the horizon was leveled with the ashes of their souls, when inhumanity and injustice will transpire
The shadow of death marched with every foot and step of time, whenever the whom of history gave birth to a king, emperor or an empire

 We, born to be free, as we would be, destiny and will, they shall know if that can be
The thorns of time embedded in all happiness, nor will joy shall last without tears or a sigh
War and poverty must be, said the greedy, so I can enjoy dominance and charity
The twins of time, peace is powerless, war is evil but dominant, let life be without your trust 

Triumph, when your enemy still envies you, when success is to win your heart and mind
The only one above the law, is the one who orders it, the elite shall master the ink to flow with letters and events
Fear by law and fear without law, is the difference between democracy and tyranny, a game of sirs and seers, a wild impish match, never ends

When time, marched by the flame of a candle
The fear, from the swords and peak of the temple
When the virgin liberty was in a dungeon
Tyranny was and is still for souls to be sunken
 
New belief, a hope, lifts inquests and conflicts
Empires, built on bones, and by others eclipses
The game of kings, the war, ascendancy and gain
With their seers, they conquest more and again
 
The crystallized tears, marked the face of the earth
From timeless injustice and the avarice's mirth
Thence, the cannon, from the crust was born
And the flesh of man, continues to be torn

The war and coins are the trade of their life
Thence, greed and death for the elite, shall thrive
The fabrics of history, was sown by them and then
The keys of the globe, were in chains and so was the pen 
  
The hope, was an orphan and lived with ghosts
The rise of freedom, was seen far and from every coast
Thence, tyranny turned the fear, from sword to fear by law
So the elite can keep their liberty by code and claw

The ocean in quest, to the harbor, was by his waves
To wash the marks on land printed by the feet of slaves 
Freedom, he said, is the breath of the soul, to be blessed
Since dawn, it tantalized earth and man to have rest

Those souls, as yet, fighting the chains and webs
Until eternity, by the elite, they will remain oppressed
If we foresee our fate, no one will play the game of chasing the days and take breath
Racism is blind even when it opens its eyes, the dark instincts of man, shall die by righteousness or death
 



Copyright © Dr.Mohammed Alrazak | Year Posted 2017