Best Metres Poems
It was nineteen ninety nine
a battle was about to begin
between the Indian Army
with the soldiers from Pakistan
My name is Yogendra Singh Yadav
a grenadier awarded the Param Vr Chakra
the highest honour for gallantry
this is how the fight begun
A stone loosened and fell as we climbed that hill
after three nights of carefully silently climbing
the Pakistan soldiers opened fire
from bunkers metres above us not a good thing
Neither up or down we could go
heavy firing caused eighteen officers and men
to retreat leaving just seven jawans
with one hundred and thirty five men above us then
We fired at the nearest bunker killing the men
the Pakistani army came to assess our strength with ten men
managed to kill eight but two of them escaped able
to report back now we were in a predicament
I carried twenty five kilo of ammunitions
the battle was fierce, we killed thirty five of them,
my six soldiers were killed also,
I was alone, lying amongst the corpses
They shot at the corpses making sure all were dead
I received fifteen gunshot injuries and my gun was taken
had grenade in my pocket, i pulled the ring and threw
landed in cap of one of the soldiers, exploded,he was on his way to heaven
They thought the indian army had returned
I picked up a Peeka rifle off one of the Pakistani soldiers
killing five soldiers, heard the voice saying retreat
to attack a MMG base further down the hill
I dumped myself in a drain, in no time was at base
saw the officer Lt.Balwan advised Pakistan army was on its way
Charlie and Delta was deployed to help Bravo Company
This resulted in the hill being taken by the Indian Army
This war took seven hours, and Tiger Hill was safe
I have been given a plot of land by the Utah Pradesh Government for my part in the battle.
Reference I used
Targil Battle - Tiger Hill (I put that name into search engine). Seven hour battle that won Tiger Hill.
Penned 4 April 2015
Categories:
metres, history,
Form:
Rhyme
Morning has broken as it has done for many years
Day to day we continue without the fear of fears
Then out of the blue their comes thoughts from long ago
Prophecies of a past, that could halt us humans flow
Tablets scribed in gold, have been uncovered in Peru
For in them they tell of the future, surrounding me and you
We await with fervour in the media, the radio and the t.v.
As I try to get my head around it, and what it means to me
The day that they speak of, it's a little over a year
Do we just laugh if off, or do the sensible in us fear
As I drive through my city, towards this impending day
The street corners start to fill, does panic have it's say
Speakers start to recite, of this doom that welcomes we
I see suicides in escalation, jumpers in front off me
Families leave their homes, for they no not where to go
Panic buying surrounds me, anarchy appears to flow
We now reach December 2012, as we gain on the scribed day
Can it be all that was written, have the ancient had their say
My eyes catch the clock, midnight is awaiting it's strike
It'll be the twenty first of December, are the Mayan scribes right
The minutes pass the hour, everything appears to be normal
Maybe the writes are fables, to them simply formal
To pacify myself, will it be the radio or the t.v.
Sometimes one has to ask oneself, to simply look and see
Visions on the screen appear, many screens my eyes do view
Reports from many countries are brought to me and you
They show events of nature, more fierce than naturally so
Rainfall in arid areas, deserts in metres off snow
The Polar ice caps start cracking, exploding ice in crying break
Mudslides now carry cities, everything caught in their wake
Bangladesh now no longer exists, the Maldives have disappeared
The Mariana Trench now starts to rise, her ridges in rampant rear
A bulletin catches my ears, Yellowstone has started to erupt
Is this what the scribes have warned of, our planet being so abrupt
A rumbling I start to feel, where I stand I feel I move
I'm in tumble across my floor, in fear of their impending prove
My apartment on the only hill, allows through my window to view
A giant fissure slices through my city, for into it, buildings spew
The free ways now broken and torn, many cars in tumbledown
From here I hear the screaming voices, I'm deafened by their drown
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-20.php
Categories:
metres, day, fantasy, fear, me,
Form:
Quatrain
Multitude of numbers,
Multiply, add, divide,
Minus, percentage, graphs,
Metres, centimetres,
More trigonometry,
Merge with geometry,
Magic of solving sums.
10.02.2020
For Joseph May's "Pleiades" poetry contest
Categories:
metres, magic, math,
Form:
Pleiades
It was a height of 250 metres,
But I wasn’t afraid;
I looked down
And there wasn’t even my shade.
The sun was already jumping
But with a low speed,
“ I can perform better,
I am not going to give the lead.”
Took a deep breath
And I was in air,
Time stopped,
And silence reached there.
The sun began moving upward,
Or I began moving downward,
I was flying,
But like a dead bird.
When from the ground,
I wasn’t really high;
Mind said,“ change in plan,
Let the sun first die”.
Categories:
metres, death, emotions, fear, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
A raging river tenaciously floods
Tannins and silts combine to dark blood
A hut, just fifty metres, occupying their sight
Two men, cold and wearied, stuck for the night
An adventure all planned, lasting a week
In the middle of nowhere with red deer to seek
Twelve-hours of hiking, commencing that day
Now trapped with some refuge a stone throw away.
Cracking of boulders being pushed by the current
Affirming the folly of crossing this torrent.
Necessities shaping a cold camp till the dawn
Just tattered old plastic, to use as an awn.
Soft moss as a bed but soaking from rain
Ferns as a pillow don’t cushion colds pain.
Dark of the evening only adds to the pall
Deaths favoured colour, as rain continues its fall
Shivering endless; bodies fighting the shock
Drops of clouds tears slowed to the tick of a clock.
Moisture still falling, no hope for them now
Prospects were mirrored by the dark of the hour
Subtly the winds whispered breathe in their ear.
Fight.
Rekindling the flames to survive their harsh plight
Packs full of food, swiftly emptied for fuel
Bodies recharged in spite of the cool.
Rain in the dark hours continued to pour
Sounds from the river commenced to fair roar,
First crack of dawn and they got up and away
Wilderness wins this particular day.
*Based on a true story however my companion and I were stuck in the elements
for 2 days and nights. Another river flooded and blocked our exit.*
Categories:
metres, adventure, earth, nature, success,
Form:
Narrative
GREAT NEIGHBOURS
Yesterday as the afternoon was coming to a close
The doorbell rang, it was Vanessa holding a beautiful rose,
For you I have just snipped it,
Still communicate, two metres apart seems fit,
Was touched, Vanessa and Neel’s, best neighbours, it shows!
Categories:
metres, friendship, rose,
Form:
Limerick
I just found out that you visited here
while I was away at work -
and that you left a few minutes before my arrival!
Ah! Your sweet presence
would have been such a balm
for my tired and aching body -
having traveled by bus, and train, another bus,
and then dragged for a thousand metres
through blustering winds.
And now I must find consolation
in the traces of your absent presence -
the imprints of your feet on the bathroom tiles,
and the faint lingering echoes of your laughter,
and the fading silhouette where you sat watching cartoons.
Although you live in my heart, I still miss you, sweet child!
Categories:
metres, granddaughter, grandfather,
Form:
Free verse
She’s walking past the tombstones,
Just came from her mothers grave.
As she passes the last stone,
her hand graces the top,
A chill shoots down her spine.
The wind is blowing her hair in every direction,
While the leaves dance around her ankles.
Tears are rolling down her cheeks.
She’d just been talking to her mother for hours,
Longer then she ever had before.
She explained to her mother how her life had been tumbling downward,
Her boyfriend for 5 years had just broken up with her,
When she thought he was going to propose.
Her best friend since kindergarten had just embarrassed her,
in front of everyone.
Just to take her spot as Queen of the School.
She hears the train coming.
She’d been looking for an escape,
An escape of her sadness,
Of her embarrassment,
Of her LIFE.
And here is one, just being given to her.
Without even thinking,
She runs onto the tracks,
The engineer slams on the breaks,
Honking the horn all the while.
She grabs her phone out of her pocket,
Begins to text her father.
Just 5 simple words.
that will mean the word to him.
I’m sorry, I love you
She looks up at the stars shinning down on her,
then at the lights on the train.
She just keeps on staring,
Without even thinking,
Her mind goes blank.
The horn is honking,
While she just waits.
Her mind is beautifully empty,
While the train comes closer.
She stares down at the train from above,
While is halts to a stop, just 100 metres away.
Her lifeless body now mingled with the tracks,
Just lays there,
Motionless,
Breathless.
She begins to regret,
what she had just done,.
Her father wouldn’t be able to go on,
Her sister would be scared,
Her mother, if she were alive, would be ashamed.
To take a life, let alone your own,
Is a crime, that can never be undone.
There is no punishment great enough,
To serve justice.
She wishes more then anything to just turn back time,
To just erase what just occurred
To pretend it never happened.
But this is not like a simple fight with a friend,
Or a bad relationship,
This can not be erased.
Death is not that simple.
A bright light comes from above,
A sudden rush of relaxation shoots through her,
Calmness surrounds her.
And then she lets go.
Her soul floats away into the night sky,
And it’s over now.
By Sierra Cowan
Written the Summer of 2009
Categories:
metres, death, loss, sad, teenmother,
Form:
Free verse
"A Mackerel Sky"
shadows like sun
dance across
an ocean of tears
salt for the stinging
walking on clouds
with the Fisher King,
as if in school
in the swim of things
fishing nets for love
all in the eye
of the beholder
wisdom like pearls
sown,
an inevitable plant,
pregnant with possibility
full-bellied, grown,
then stitched up
embroided
sewn imperfect
the hem of it slipping
needs fast mending
cirrocumulus,
fleecing
altocumulus
blown away
an empty canvas
borne for painting
bluebirds sing
on the backs
of cloudy angels racing
Mares' tails
and mackerel scales
make lofty ships
to carry low sails;
red herrings
far from sure
bloody mind dripping
another colour
washes itself
in a pink mackerel sky -
the observing self
hedging bets and
reacquainting
do or die
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“According to lore (tradition), a mackerel sky means that the weather is going to change.”
“Mackerel are built for speed and, along with a highly forked tail, can streamline themselves by retracting their dorsal fin into a groove in their body when they swim. Actually, they are the fastest swimming fish, in UK waters, able to swim around 50 metres in 10 seconds. Mackerel, have to keep swimming to live, as if they stop moving forward they will drown.”
Meaning, Mackerel Sky - "a name given to a sky covered with those same puffy cirrocumulus and altocumulus clouds arranged in a pattern of waves, with blue sky peeking through so that it resembles the scales on the back of a mackerel."
It’s all rather fishy. Red Herrings, Mackerel Skies.
Categories:
metres, journey, life, muse,
Form:
Narrative
Wrap, rap a Christmas wrap
open the mind turn on the tap,
a roll of paper with colouration
metres or yards without perforation,
to be carefully folded with a gift inside
a present for the season you wanna hide,
it'll add to excitement on Christmas day
when the careful wrapping will be thrown away
after being opened by rip and tear
to reveal slippers, socks, or underwear.
Rap, wrap a Christmas rap
not quite a minefield but still a trap,
would you begin with 'w' or wiith an 'r'
because starting with a 'c' would be a carp too far,
so rap or wrap it's a dit's time to nap
and when you awaken from the alcoholic cup
it's time for you and the washing-uo,
the drying of the crocks will be the last lap
it's time to slip into your Christmas Wrap,
now cosy and warm and the whiskey in reach
as once again you've missed HM's speech,
the broadcast and your nap did not overlap,
surprise, surprise, you missed her Christmass RAP.
So this must do there's no need to clap
it's only twelve months to pick rap or wrap.
now is the time, it's over, this is a WRAP.
Categories:
metres, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
Greg Davies is my secret crush
He appears in my fantasies
With his dreamy azure eyes
And a dazzling smile
Greg Davies is the man of my dreams
An accomplished actor is Greg
A stand up comedian and host too
Indeed, he is a talented man
Entranced by his demeanor
I watch with fascination
As I cool myself down with a fan
Greg has silvery grey and white hair
Sexily flicked back with perfection
My hands yearn to run through it
Cup his face with my hands
Gaze into his sapphire eyes with affection
Sexy and clever too is Mr Davies
An ex teacher of English and drama no less
A welsh born beauty with brains
I wish I had been one of his students
Attending his lessons in various forms of undress
A bit of role play please and thank you Sir
I would be really naughty at school
Placed over his knee
Punished and spanked
Break all the rules deliberately
I want to feel every inch of his perfect frame
Stroke the places he likes to be touched
Feel his large hands on my quivering body
I sound completely cuckoo
But I assure you I am just in lust
This is one man I want down on me
No in-betweeners in between
He has size fourteen feet
And girls
We all know what THAT means!
He can be my Taskmaster
Or a master of a different kind
I would give him total submission
He can fire his cheesy balls straight into my open mouth
He can do what he wants, I don’t mind
I need his body wrapped around mine
His luscious lips I crave to kiss
Stroke his sexy chest
Massage him with oils
Just to meet him would be bliss
With a hint of a Welsh accent
His voice is divine
He is a man I would love to meet
The perfect parcel
Over two metres tall
I wish Greg Davies was mine
Any woman would be lucky to have him
His is a Taurus
The most sensual sign
Handsome beyond belief
I am sure “Eight out of ten cats” would agree
Greg Davies is gorgeousness personified
Categories:
metres, character, crush, fantasy, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
My idol raced into the history books with record shattering feats,
but fell from dizzying heights, stripped of honours and respect.
I halted in my tracks, numb, disappointed and betrayed!
--------------------------
Number of words = 30
Ben Johnson was a Jamaican-born Canadian sprinter who became the
world record holder for the 100 metres in the 1988 Olympics.
He was stripped of all honours when he was caught using illegal drugs.
-------------------------------------
Paul Callus ~ 1st December 2015
Contest: Fallen (25-30 words)
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Placed 4th
Categories:
metres, betrayal, sports, drug,
Form:
Free verse
The French call it "dix" - the Romans used X
The number of lords that are leaping Xmas
The total of fingers and thumbs on both hands
The base used for metric - both metres and grams
Count hydrogen atoms in compound butane
Downing Street doorstep, our PM's domain
Legs on a lobster and all decapods
Commandments and plagues that were given by God
The number of toes on the end of our feet
The lines in this poem - that makes it all neat
Categories:
metres, funny, humor, humorous, math,
Form:
Verse
I saw you up ahead
By yourself
Off to the side
In the still brown winter grass
Scales tightly woven
At the tip
Releasing only halfway
The nearest pinetree
Over 100 metres away
A Squirrel surely brought
You this far and gave up
Now you will survive
Among my family
Of Lake Superior
Rocks and driftwood
Abandoned birdnests
And other found
Forest orphans
Forever
Loved
02/22/17
Categories:
metres, nature,
Form:
Personification
Sports Day at the primary school
The kids were 7 and 9
They’d been at the school for 4 or 5 years
It seemed such a very short time.
For dads there was the Blue Ribbon event
I always gave it a bash;
The ritual humiliation of
The 70m Dash.
Now bear in mind that some of these dads
Were barely in their 20s
While Muggins here had carried his bat
And made my first half century.
I’d first run this sprint 5 years before-
I thought I’d give it a blast;
I ran like the wind from gun to tape
And made a respectable last.
Similar results in subsequent years
Elicited standing ovations
The crowd recognised that despite getting old
There’d been no deterioration.
Year 3 I ran like a galloping mare
The fruits of my training I reckon
And earned for my efforts a personal best
With a time of 31 seconds.
(For training I ran a marathon
I didn’t finish last in it, neither!
I nearly caught that pantomime horse
But outclassed the deep sea diver).
But then I devised a masterplan
To help me succeed in the task
And at 50m I stopped for a tea
Out of my vacuum flask.
I’ve got you puzzled by this strategy
How can I be so content?
Of course I came last in the Dad’s Open Dash
But first in the next event.
Categories:
metres, funny, sports
Form:
Light Verse