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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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New Mongolian Poems

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Mongolian Nazis by Warren, Paul

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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.


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2010

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


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 
Striding through exhumed Alexandrian cities' 
ethnocentric strains
Strolling pebbled Roman boulevards accentuated by 
aqueduct drains
Riding the Mongolian steppes listening to the murderous 
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.

Mongolian Nazis

The state of Mongolia is now Russia free
With the collapse of the Soviet Union you see
And a sense of nationalism is now the deal
And it has led to a right wing politics feel

They have Nazis now parading with a Swastika made
With black uniforms and SS badges that will not fade
Adolf Hitler is worshipped as a great man
Thought about in their new nationalistic plan

It is seen as an anti-foreigner sentiment 
With the swastika an Asian sign without lament
But is it a country struggling with its own identity
When all they want is a country of their own to be free.
© Paul Warren Poetry

Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2017