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Best March Poems | Poetry

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

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The Best March Poems

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

One Green Leaf

One leaf fell from a tall, tall tree
and subtly kissed gnarled roots beneath;
a lover’s kiss below sunned-sheath 
of greenest leaves, a jubilee.  

One spiraling leaf brought playful mirth
to sullen earth of trodden dirt.
A flight of hopeful shades of spring,
for hard, hard ground, an offering

One leaf dressed in a sparkling jade
glided with grace to green grass blades    
and rested near a bubbling brook,
then waited for warm breeze that shook
its flirty skirt on green, green glade.   

An arc of bright green canopy
warmed my heart in bluest mood, 
and one leaf blew a kiss from you.
It twirled and pranced and floated by,
then with a touch it came to lie 
green in my hand, a dear surprise. 

Like emerald hills of Irish tales, 
I marveled at how one leaf sailed
green In my hand that blue, blue day,
a kiss from you on Patty’s Day -
The gray clouds parted shining green, 
a beauty like I’d never seen.

for Francine's Show Me the Green Contest, 3/18/15 

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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A British Soldier in Zululand

A British Soldier in Zululand            
copyright 2018 by jon gutmacher

So, he woke up in the morning
had a cup of steaming joe
put his rifle on his shoulder
and was ready then to go
to battle if there was one
to war if need would be
to ends of earth 
or ends of time
t’was the British infantry

And he remembered all his loved ones
and the wife he hardly knew
and the times before he took up war
as soldiers sometimes do
and he didn’t really know it
and he really didn’t care
for the army was his master
and the war was
always there

Then he got into the wagon
the hundredth man in line
then he checked his pack
he checked his bags
and all that he could find
The 60th Battalion
the pride of British war
all decked in fine regalia
for whatever was
in store

Now the pipes and drums were playing
a thousand men advanced
in perfect step and union
their bayonets stood fast
with the British Jack ah flying
not a man did miss a beat
their lines were fast and ready
their uniforms kept neat

And he took up his position
and then he took a knee
he saw the tribesmen coming
as far the eye 
could see
then his sergeant screamed an order
as they hit a hundred yards
and the first of several volleys
cut them down like
so much chard

But it didn’t stop them coming
it didn’t stop their charge
they ran as fast as leopards
would they make the final yards?
he could make out each their features
the markings on their shields
the glint of spear 
their shouting
as the two lines came so near

Then he fired another volley
as he saw the Zulu drop
he heard the screams as men fell down
the constant awful pop
from the rifles all around him
and rifles from behind
the shout of tribesmen sounded
while their charge did
shake the ground

Then, far off in the distance
saw their chieftains raise their spears
and another wave began to come
although the first was near
and he stood as straight as iron
and with a bloody shout
drove a bayonet in and thru a man
and then he pulled it out

Now the first line was upon him
the melee all around
his rifle butt and bayonet 
drove men dead to the ground
and the slaughter all about him
the blood upon the ground
his uniform now tattered
as he loaded another round

Now the battle finally over
amazed was still alive
they pursued the remaining Zulus
watched them struggle
as they died
and he saw a glint of sabers 
in the early morning sun
as the officers held a parlay
it seemed that all was done

Now he marched to drums and bagpipes 
back to where there was a fort
and he joked with lads beside him
bout war and all it brought

And the stars shone 
bright above him
across the Zulu plain
as he lay back down
upon his cot
the war now
just a name

So, I review my notes of battles
with my grandson on my knee
the medals there upon the wall
for anyone to see
and the regimental colors
the tunic that I wore
now memories
just memories
of a long gone
Zulu War

Copyright © jon gutmacher | Year Posted 2018

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An Evening at the Home

Written: March 5, 2012
Updated: March 11, 2012

Listen to nurse's report including the news 
that Joe and Wilma like each other.

Check all rooms and find that Roger is out of his bed
and down on the floor again.
  (Hip not broken yet.)

Answer Wanda's light to calm her justified paranoia 
because she knows that she is somewhere other 
than her home but just can't figure out where that is.

Answer Jeremy's light to help him sip his water 
while he giggles at his favorite T.V. show.

Accept his thanks and feel your heart break again to see a 
45 year old man who can no longer control his limbs be so 
appreciative of such a small act of kindness...big act of kindness.

Check on Jack even though he doesn't turn on his light 
because you hear suspicious noises coming from his room.  

Help Jack to bed after you find him swatting an 
imaginary fly with an imaginary fly swatter.

Try to re-position Emma so that she is comfortable 
even though her limbs are fetal-position frozen.

Kindly lie to yourself about her comfort so that you can 
control your guilt when leaving the room.

Go into Jackie's room when she starts her usual screaming 
that "she doesn't want to be here, and her family hates her 
and that's why she's here."

Kindly lie to her and control your shame because you know that 
what she is saying probably is true.

Answer ex-model Mabel's light and listen to her story about 
how she could have married Groucho Marx, but that she married 
her true-love instead.

Feel a sense of sad pride when Anna proudly explains to you 
how she keeps track of her day by tracking her activities as she 
would have for patients when she was a nurse.

Keep taking care of and giving these people (not patients) 
love every chance that you get.

Gail's notes: Portrait of Joe and Wanda is the sequel to this.  To protect the privacy of those who have lived before us, the names have been fictionalized, and the events semi-fictionalized.

Copyright © Gail DeBole | Year Posted 2012

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Forever Radiant

Radiant hymn's   of morning sun
of Godly words   O' how I run
to and fro
I traipse in search
in love I rest
still      my spirit yearns  

I will sing of the Lord's great love

I hear the call    upon the hill
in shallow breath    my heart lie still
O' trial O' fear
I march ahead
I call my king
on Zion's perch

I will sing of the Lord's great love

To proclaim    everlasting     the prize
onward and bestowed to rise
O' anointed one
I march ahead
in love I rest
each day of toil   

I will sing of the Lord's great love
I will sing


O' how I bear   in my heart
in completion   just    to be a part
with sinful flesh
my spirit cries
I call my King
to shun desire

I will sing of the Lord's great truth
I shall sing forever



Contest-Larry Cohen's Masterpiece 'HALLELUJAH.'

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2013

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Spring, Oh SO Close

Sunny today
but Oh what a chill

The wind inhales and exhales
the trees bend on the hill

Winnie the Poohs Blustery Day
just cannot compete

In like a lion and out like a lamb
I am so tired of paying for heat

I long for crocuses, tulips and green
it seems like ages since they have been seen

Copyright © Willow Lawrence | Year Posted 2015

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Sweet, bitter March,
last year tears haven’t dried out up 
till now and yet you
are already at the door,
knocking lightly!

Sadness is still flapping over my head like
a frantic goose, what have you brought with you
to silence its primordial honking?!

I can see your hunched silhouette against the wall
Of my waiting, standing awash with shame,
wringing your empty hands desperately!

O' March , anniversary of tears and smiles,
Memories are pacing around nostalgically, sniffing
the withered roses, leafing through the pages of books
trying to put the haphazard leftovers of a once
beautiful image into shape…

The hurricane that accompanied you once
has subdued, leaving behind a nerve-tearing silence and
a deracinated life!

Don’t wonder; rootless hopes are still roving
over the corpse of a long dead dream, taking
strength from the ever pulsating stars…

March, March , embracer of birth and death,
the breath of eternity has abandoned
your rosy-cheeked child..
The resonance of its happy giggles are
haunting the vacant hours of night, sending me
reeling of longing!

Its face emerges from among the clouds of years, an angelic
Vision imprinted on the face of a mourning moon!

Copyright © shams alsaidi | Year Posted 2012

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The 'Undred an' Fifth

The 'Undred an' Fifth is the greatest o' Britain,
They charge like the Royal Marines;
They'll shatter the shock, and they'll 'old like a rock,
On nothin' but pork leg an' beans.

They march by the mile, an' they step 'er in style;
At 'ome by the land 'r the sea.
They'll fight like a lion, an' die for the tryin',
For nothin' save crackers an' tea.

Aye! the 'Undred an' Fifth is the best in the land;
They 'ave trampled the gates o' Chardaux.
Brave for the fight, they 'll sail to the sand,
An' they'll march till they meet wi' the foe!

The 'Undred an' Fifth, yes the best o' the best;
They 'ud conquer the ends o' the world.
Not taking a rest, they are game for the test,
Till the Jack o' the Brits is unfurled.

The 'Undred an' Fifth is the greatest forever;
They'll cross any line in the sand.
When others 'ave failed, an' the reg'lars 'ave bailed,
Then the Fifth o' the 'Undreds 'll stand!

They stand in a rank, an' they march in a file,
They 'ark to an ol' rusty sot:
They serve for the Queen, as they camp o'er the mile;
They're the greatest that Britain 'as got! 

~ Inspired by Kipling's "Soldier an' Sailor Too".
~ See About Poem for more.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

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Twist Of Emotions In March

Another day chased away by cold breese And the fast wind into the dark caves flees Silence, a master of the place that screams And the void, a hole that swallows the beams Into gloomy shades, the birds take refuge As, the sky a black dome awfully huge What is left, is the empty streets, without And within, a poet rotten by doubt Inside my chest, a throbbing heart, in fear The season might mean that the end is near As the trees, their leaves with rustle they fall Highlighted by the scared few birds that call As if Spring this year were just meant to leave Before term, and before my words, i'd give

Copyright © Poetic Flame | Year Posted 2016

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Hillside Stream in Early March

Replenished with rain, it rushes on,
Its brown water pours and spills
Like vinegar from the pickle bottle,
Tumbling over, bubbling through
The jagged jumble of rocks,
Those early plants pushed aside to let it pass,
Its running melody ringing clear,
Competing with the robin’s call,
The stream pushes on, its cheerful song
Belies the chill beneath,
As it strives to outrun Winter,
While the fragile sun sighs
‘Too soon, too soon’.

Copyright © Deborah Alexander | Year Posted 2017

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Last league of March, after spring had reached its peak,
I opened my doors to abeer.
And sunshine.

She grinned, 
And shrieked in delight when I caught her.

The saffron on the curves of her hips is mine. 
The azure on the rise of her breasts.
The dark, raunchy purple on her lips.
The vermilion on her forehead is not,
And when dusk fell, it drew her away from me.

Date: 29 / 10 / 2016
This poem was written in celebration of 'Holi', the festival of colour. The idea was to draw a parallel with the tale of Radha-Krishna, which itself is a story of an affair. 

Copyright © Tamal Kundu | Year Posted 2016

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Our Month Of March

Our Month of March

The month of March will soon make her debut;
     this winter month, our third is now in line.
And she can be a fickle one, it's true;
     brings climate that is wild or quite benign.

'In like a lamb, out like a lion' force,
     she teases us with spring then turns around;
and there again, another snow, of course.
     So March has her surprises to astound.

But towards her end, we think about our spring,
     as March does seem to seal winter's end.
We pick up twigs and branches in upswing
     on warm and sunny days; on hopes depend.

But, month of March will own up to defeat
     when April comes on pussy-willow feet.

Sandra  M. Haight

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2018

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Oh, March

Oh, March
you pompous windbag
howling in the hollows
of Winters fade.
Scattering Fall’s gold
across warmed mud,
billowing tree bound
plastic bag kites,
hoisting the weightless hawk.

Oh March
you city street sweeper
funneling debris
down tunneled alleys,
tearing at the edges
of flailing flags,
hastening the pace
of lethargy’s malaise.

Oh March
you docile lamb
caressing soft peeking buds,
nurturing the squawk
of nestlings,
nudging idle cocoons
to wakefulness,
warming ophidian
cold blood.

Oh March
you are the hint
of warming’s kiss
titillating Spring’s yawn.

John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2018

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March Madness II

There is another March Madness
and it also happens every year,
there are shouts, cheers, and a tear...
I wonder if you can make a guess?

The fans - they dress in all sorts of wild gear,
and there are office bets placed all around;
the brackets are made and are NCAA bound
and no Madness is the same from year to year.

Can you guess what this thing I rhyme is all about,
or are you like some who really don't care?
But watch and you'll see some amazing air
for basketball fans - March Madness carries real clout.

Now I know this isn't about the blues,
but I wasn't in the mood to make you sad,
so I wrote this piece, I hope you're glad...
the March Madness cure - Basketball shoes!

Copyright © George Aul | Year Posted 2011

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In the Face of Death

Entry for the contest: World or War: Viet Nam
Author:  Elaine Cecelia Geroge, of Canada
Inspired by:  the Picture of the soldier’s 
carrying their wounded comrade through
the Viet Nam Jungle.  In this poem, it is
the soldeir on the left.


I dream of heaven here on earth,
where I walk in meadows green,
in the Blue Ridge Mountains, of Virginia
beside a mountain stream;
where rainbow coloured - wild flowers, 
swaye upon a breeze;
and leafy emeralds blossom,
on the limbs of lofty trees.

There in those hills where I was born
 ‘Heather’ waits for me; 
my love, my wife, I see her now
in every breath I breathe.

And I dare not cast my eyes 
 upon this grim reality;
here in Viet Nam,
where thorns and bards on gnarled trees, 
hold me in this hell- hole, 
in an endless muddy stream,
filled with blood, and sweat, and tears,
and victories broken dream.

And I dare not free my hands, 
to wipe away these tears I cry,
I can not! I must not!  for if I do,
 my brother dies!

So with every single beat, 
of this patriotic heart,
staring in the face of death, I march -
I march through Hell, 
And dream of Heaven here on Earth

Written:  April 17, 2011
Awarded:  4th place

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2011

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March Madness

march time
hype time

ball bet 

crowds boo
munch goo

fans cheer
drink beer

poor aims
close games

a pill

time nears
fan fears


the one
not fun!

cut nets
let's jet

Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015

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The Hockey Battle of Respect - A Maple Leafs and Lightning Season Series

Thursday, March the 5th of the year 2015
Another hockey battle comes along the way
It's a hockey night across the bay
And for the fans, it's a night of pride and respect

Thursday night with the blue and white
Trying to play for their season pride
Thursday night with the black and blue
Trying to play for their playoffs ride

When the dance on the ice begins to ring
Their voices of strong support will begin to sing
With an atmosphere of a pep rally from high school
The cheers of a true fan - a hockey team's supporting tool

Toronto Maple Leafs - the underdog team
Coming away from the bay to fight for respect
Tampa Bay Lightning - the elite team
Coming from the bay to keep their respect

From the cheers of "GO LEAFS GO" away from home
To the cheers of "LET'S GO LIGHTNING" close to home
Hockey Night in Tampa Bay - a worthy game to expect
And their season matchup will be known as "The Hockey Battle of Respect"

Copyright © Nileisha Giselle Deliz Diana | Year Posted 2015

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Happy Birthday To Me

The candles are aglow on your birthday cake,
Where a wish awaits for only you to make,
A cascade of confetti thrown by many a friend,
Balloons and flowers, gifts and parties without end,
A year filled with new smiles and never a tear,
And with many heartfelt words of good cheer,
Like those I have written right here on the page,
A Happy Birthday to you, no matter what your age!

I wrote this for Linda's (Poet Destroyer's) birthday, 
but I thought it was appropriate to repost this,
since today is my birthday!

It is always nice to share this special day with friends.
And, I consider all of you to be mine! :)

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

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Little Drummer Boy

Ratta tat tat, as he taps on his drum
The war isn’t over, it’s just begun
He’ll play that drum until the moon shines bright
He’ll play that drum till the stars come out at night
With bullets flying over head
He looks around and sees the dead
Explosions and smoke lace the air
But still he runs, and plays his drum
He wants to cry but shows no fear
Fear is something forbidden here
To prove his self among the men
Is what he dreams of again and again
With tears streaming down his cheeks
He charges faster, anger at its peak
He grabs a dead soldier’s gun and fires
To kill an enemy is his only desire
But angry like a ravaging dogs bark
Suddenly, everything goes dark
As he falls to the ground and looks over at the others,
The Little drummer boy thinks only of. . .

. . .His mother. . .

*I'm a huge history nerd and one night in high school, this poem came to mind.

Copyright © R.C. Lewis | Year Posted 2014

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As Time Goes on

The days of March are dark and drear.
In April rain clouds still appear.
By May the weatherman we cheer,
And June is here, and June is here.

July brings forth the perfect rose.
In August we take off our clothes.
September we must don our hose,
And summer goes, and summer goes.

October the cool breezes blow.
November brings a hint of snow.
December time is all aglow,
Bright gifts with bow, bright gifts with bow.

In January a deep freeze.
Small February is a tease.
Bold March once more will try to please.
Time to plant peas, time to plant peas.


Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2013

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Butterflies Flutter -Palindrome-

Butterflies fluttering -*- fluttering butterflies Wonderous colors -*- colors wonderous Breeze along with they float -*- float they with along breeze They are beautiful creatures -*- creatures beautiful are they Copyright © Cynthia Jones Mar.23/2005

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

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On the March

Soldiers, rucksacks in place, marching, calling cadence: "Sound off, one two. Sound off, three four." "Hooah" 6/4/15

Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2015

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Kong winter resolve his power struggle to live a little longer
Cold soil protects wild modest tiny flowers
March deserve tribute by an dignified pen
A soothing voice whisper in dew wet morning sun
When Spring youthful glory revitalises

With blessed glow in brilliant charm
A soft mother breast for all to be born again
Nature pregnancies seeds of life
Spring unveiled with a colorful smile
We go brighter times ahead, wakes up from beauty sleep
Princess Spring I feel lucky and almighty

A-L Andresen :)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016

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If there ever was a time in the history of human, it is now that one’s being is bound to civic duty impost. He or she is a loyal citizen of his or her nation. Intensified is the fortress bond of armory and strength. Through our faith and courage, our minds and our heart have engaged vigor. Dynamism is diversification via structure. What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy. As we discuss the militant way, we centralize our thoughts To suffering in other nations against dogmatic methods, systemically approached the right to vote interposed by illegality of the election booth intervened by bribes and other means to destroy equability. What is seen is statement beyond repose via strategy. Impartiality is an assured plus of unanimous. Political leaders aboard focus on a suppressed nation through their views on enslavement and incapacitate. For sure, this is the Stalin’s views of the Ukraine orders retain. To incarcerate through tenets of rapaciousness is cruel. Therefore, what is seen is only a system of beliefs. The Ukrainians must remain free to be at liberty. ______________________________________| Verlena S. Walker Penned on October 02, 2014! Form: Decapentasyllabic Verse

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

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March Fourth

I was born on March fourth, 1983.
But, I believe I was born, to march forth.
What I mean is, I was born to never give up.
To never quit.
To keep trying.
To walk my own path.
To keep going, no matter how dark my days get.
To continue on, no matter how bleak my outlook is.
To keep my head up, even when others look down on me.
I am tough, I am strong, I am a survivor.
I always was, and I always will be.
I will never stop reaching for my dream.
I will never stop going forward,
even when my shoes have worn out.
Even when my socks have torn to shreds,
even when my feet are broken and bleeding.
Because, I was born on March fourth.
To march forth.

Written by: Kelly Deschler

Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me With A Small Poem" - motif: epic

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Christmas In July

The sun shines so bright in a cerulean sky, As Christmas spirit comes in great surprise; People now in all walks of life, Happily enjoy the moment once in a lifetime. Go shopping here, go shopping there, They all buy things needed to cheer; Everyone joins the spectacular parade, With big floats and motorcades. It is still July but Christmas is magic, It comes on time when we least expect it; Day and night, people are rejoicing, Helping one another in all undertakings. Still skeptical on what is really happening, But colorful lanterns and ornaments are now seen, Christmas lights even sparks in shimmering splendor, Hang in houses, on window sills and doors. In open houses have some special gifts, For anyone who would wish to drop by for a pick; Some are simple wrapped items, And some are sweets or delicacies on plates. Everyone keeps busy but doesn’t go frantic, Christmas in July is a real fantastic; A special event which now lingers in the memory, Because it is our Town’s First City Anniversary!
Note: Our town turned to a city. Date: Aug. 8. 2012 7th Place Winner Contest: My Favorite Poem Contest Contest Judged: 9/7/12 12:00:00 AM Poet Sponsor: Joyce Johnson Note: This was my entry in the contest with a theme, Christmas In July Magic. I’m dedicating this poem to my town Candon City, although the anniversary is not really in July. I just kept the theme of the contest. Moreover, my dearest mother and favorite aunt who are both celebrating their b-days on this month had inspired me to write. The real Town City Hood and Foundation anniversary: The anniversary of Candon City Hood is every March 28. Candon became a city in March 28, 2001 thru Republic Act 9018. Candon City hood was authored by then Congresswoman Grace Singson during the 11th congress. Foundation Day is March 25. -more info were from Mr. Jun Balbin.

Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012