The Forbidden Hill

The Forbidden Hill short poem

Photo by sabertasche2

Don’t go to the forbidden hill!
Once five men went to see.
But three were killed by the fire
From those flying chariots.
And two were killed by them
With fire-spitting weapons,
To teach others a lesson.

You know, the elders say,
Once a hunter saw them
Taking bath in the lake.
He was never seen again!
Some say, leave it…
Some say, they don’t stay.
They come to help us-
They just come and go.
But you never know.

Once they took our king
With them, for a ride…
He told us many stories!
They might take us too
Someday, hopefully…

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Alapan Roy Chowdhury

Alapan Roy Chowdhury

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I am an amateur researcher. I'm currently working as a lecturer in English. Poetry is one of my passions! I have been composing poems since 2008.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Orb And The Forbidden City

Orb And The Forbidden City long poem

metaphysical impulse ensues through the flames of resistance shun its existence etched beneath the tapestry of loosened conclaves alone in desperation in the night heavy sounds of cosmic illumination in temples of fire reaching ever higher on point locked in

The Hill Cottage

The Hill Cottage prose poem

Under the vast canopy Of spotless blue sky With snow-capped hills as neighbours Rests the cute cottage blissfully In the midst of blooming flowers Far from the madding crowd Far from din and bustle Far from smoggy air space And

Widow’s Hill

Widow’s Hill long poem

Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW’S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they’re waiting

Up The Hill

Up The Hill ballad

Up the hill In a valley Daffodils grew on the banks of Kashmir Pretty pink, white and yellow Dancing in the sunshine meadow Little Robin red breast Tweeting on the willow White clouds flirting With the little fellow Up the

The Odyssey Of Hill Woman

The Odyssey Of Hill Woman prose poem

For ages, her life has been A journey of endless strife Most of the times unrecognised Generation after generation Beautiful as a part of nature itself In whose lap she is born and brought up She grows up to attain