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Introspection Ballad Poems | Introspection Poems About Ballad

These Introspection Ballad poems are examples of Introspection poems about Ballad. These are the best examples of Introspection Ballad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad | |

New Year's Eve Ballad

New Year's Eve Ballad

It’s true one year just ended
And that another one began
In places crowds did gather
They drank and offered cheer
There was singing and ‘twas dancing
Celebrating the New Year.

As a child I do remember
This special time of year
When bedtime was extended
And the neighbors were all there
Together at the strike of twelve
Celebrating the New Year.

And as I grew much older
As did the other friends I know
We continued all to gather
As this special time did near
We talked of all the years past
Celebrating the New Year.

So many friends are gone now
So many that I knew
But always I remember
The times that we did bear
I think of them now as I am
Celebrating the New Year.

Last year we met such challenges
Not all glory, not all fun
But stood each with the other
As we chased away the fear
We faced just ‘one day at a time’ and now are
Celebrating the New Year.

Cheers I say to others
As I pop the cork and drink
Thinking now all days are special
Though life sometimes does seem unfair
Still I drink to health and happiness
Celebrating the New Year.

Copyright © Sue k Green

Details | I do not know? | |

The Ballad of the Jacaranda

Walked six years, that way,
And watched this new suburb’s trend.
Near Mysore Highway,
Close to Bengaluru’s end.
Three storeys tall, stood,
This awesome tree-spread, so pretty.
Blue blossoms, good wood,
Half acre’s canopy.
‘Neath with sun-warmings,
Faded blue a carpet rose.
Of fallen, dried awnings,
Nature’s cycle, as it goes.
Hanging Traffic Lights,
Often, brushed by its branches.
Red light, hid from sights,
Officials, took no chances.
The machinery,
Was then set into motion.
People versus tree,
Few friends, one odd emotion.
The huge saws came in,
Chopping through, the whole, big tree,
Adding noise and din,
Workmen yelled, ‘Timber!’ in glee.
The earthmovers filled,
The gaping hole with rubble.
The tree was thus killed,
At great cost and much trouble.
The decorators, 
Carted leaves to weddings halls.
Such deft creators,
Blooms to florists’ stalls.
The carpet-pile, twigs and chips,
All collected, swept,
Offals for funeral trips,
Departed unwept.
Their nests and hives gone,
The birds and the bees hovered,
Twittered , buzzed, flew on,
Their losses unrecovered.
The tree’s life on earth,
Cut short, for sale by auction.
Fetched a pittance’s worth,
The wood went for a fraction.

Traffic lights are safe now,
No mix-up of colour red.
Strange.. Green light, some how,
Blinks. Reminder of the dead.
Jacaranda tree,
God dressed your kind soul in wood.
You would have lived free,
You would have, lived, If you could.

Note: Offals: (OE for small twigs, straws etc used for lighting fire) Please  Note:this poem (my original) is already entered in with  earlier...and i hope there is no objections to entering it here.

Copyright © Rita Joyce Singh

Details | Ballad | |

THEWhaling SHIP CAPTAIN's LOVER ballad dedicated my gmother's life

THE SHIP CAPTAIN’S LOVER   (from my grandmother's life--her betrothed lost at sea on a whaling vessel in Norway 1890)

by Victoria Anderson-Throop

The winds blow free
And the winds blow cold
There never was a man so bold
As the man I loved who went to sea
The month he was to marry  me

Times were hard
And times were tough
Winds were cold
North seas were rough

But a whaling man will fight for breath
Dare the sea , defy their death
He ordered his crew
“come follow me
Who fears to sail
Is cowardly”

“No, don’t leave me--
Please --I called”
He slapped me then
He was appalled

I had shamed him with my fear
I should have handed him his gear
And wished him well upon his way
Gone on like any other day

A woman’s place is by the shore
Nothing less and nothing more
She never begs and never cries
Unless her own beloved dies

While I waited on the shore
Fear seeped out of every pore
Days went by
And then a week
Tears were shed by brave and meek

Life was bitter, life was sour
A bell was sounded from the tower
For each beloved man
Now lost--
What a bitter
Deadly cost.

And , for me,
My life's in tatters.
Men don’t know the thing that matters--
I wish I had my man so sweet
Not my world
Thrown at my feet.

Oh darlin’ babe now in my arms
Don’t fall victim to wild charms
When the sea calls in your head
Stay at home-- die in your bed

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop

Details | Rhyme | |

The Ballad of Jeremiah Macabenta

The King hosted a feast, 
   as it was his custom, 
to once a year, feed the least
   blessed in his kingdom.
So the ragged came in flocks
   and in the courtyard gathered, 
hushed in anticipation
   of, finally, a warm supper.
All the King's men guided
   them, so it will be orderly
along dozen long tables
   arranged conformingly.
The guests then sat, food was served, 
   each with equal servings; 
a plate of veggies, a cut of meat, 
   rice and corn soup steaming.

Among those who supped was
   Jeremiah Macabenta, 
perhaps the most haughty glutton
   of the millennia.
His infamy was that, amongst
   vagrants, he could
eat in one meal what 
   normally three men took.
Though he was looked upon
   as comically fat, 
his life as a rat 
   was tragically sad.
—having no means of living
   at that—
so to the King's dinner, an
   invitation, he got.

Back to the feast, after servings
   were done, 
Jeremiah called for one of
   the servers to come; 
He said, 'Look at my plate, 
   of meat, it has none.
Only veggies, rice and soup! '
   So the server gave him one.
Just then a cat with fur
   shiny and black
—which, according to myth, is
   the cause of bad luck—
suddenly jumped onto an
   eating lady's lap, 
who then shoo'ed it away; 
   to the table it leapt back.

Landing in chaos upon
   Jeremiah's place, 
exposing two pieces of meat
   he hid under his plate; 
caught red-handed, he'd only
   sheepishly grin, 
while the King's witnessed this, 
   much to his chagrin.
The King then ordered Jeremiah
   banished from the tables, 
of controlling his anger, 
   he was barely able; 
shocked that this tramp would
   abuse his charity, 
when he most wanted to
   treat his guests equally.

Now this is where it's not
   clearly distinguished
what truly transpired from
   only just gossip; 
for it was manifested that
   Jeremiah was punished, 
but the story that spread
   was incredibly horrid
It was said that Jeremiah
   was chained onto a rock   
and into his mouth, food was
   endlessly stuffed, 
till he choked and gasped
   and breathed his last air, 
while bits and morsels trickled
   down his nose and ear.

(And to confound the story 
   of Jeremiah's end, 
after the feast, he was never
   heard from again.)       

Perhaps the moral is this: 
   we should never take advantage
should the kindness that is
   shared to us we acknowledge, 
lest we fall into the pit
   of Jeremiah's plight
—in gluttony he lived, 
   in gluttony he died.

Copyright © Robert Uy

Details | Ballad | |

Ballad for Pope Puiu(1)

 If in your veins ,you still hear the horses` silver hoofs,
And the copper moon escapes its smile on the roofs ,
Don't let them go alone as Pope Puiu did before to die :
He watched the empty wall and said his dream was just a lie. 
His sleepy devil darling,
And lots of angels sing…
The song of  Falstaff-Pope Puiu , my dear old mate:
Half is lowing as a mule: grave, grim and obstinate; 
He crushes the dark with white hoofs ,                       
He asks Coco , his brother to stand aloof,
While the fire was consuming their old roof…
The rest is mixture of lullaby and gospel …
The ember of desert slowly trying to spell:
JOB lives in me:
Lonely like a tree…
Coco wore white chilblains after long sleeping on snow.
Puiu wore heartburns ,and other inner wounds that grow…
They knew the ice and rude Siberian wind that froze
The parents` soul, the smiling sun, the rare rose
Of our old recollections with crossed golden swords…
But now, the grass knows a new play upon words:
There my thoughts were turned into stone.
I drink, friend, because I forget things; I feel alone
Like a syllogism burned by the life's light;
Like a hoof of mule crushing the night.
Under the rusty leafage and grass` oppression deep,
The unseen roots, much loneliness and secrets keep.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa

Details | Verse | |

Barbed Wire Ballad

Rusted wire against a tree
Year by year recedes
Inside of the circling bark, invisibly
Consumed. Relentlessly, the oak tree feeds.

The countless rings of outer bark
Enwrap the wire within.
Thus Time is absorbing me. I mark
The circles choking me.  I’m taut, stretched thin.

Copyright © Steve Eng

Details | Lyric | |

Ballad of Strength

Break my legs and make me run
Take my sight and give me the sun
Throw me down without a rope
And I’ll still climb to find my hope

Burn my flesh, don’t tell me why
Make a game of silence when I cry
Teach me wrong and say all’s right
But I’ll still crawl and find a place of light

It’s all I am when truth will fade
Even alone, and in my grave
I keep rising despite my hurt
Because in my darkness I can feel the earth

Crawled through hell and found myself
My strength’s still here, so is my health
The burns have made my skin so tough
And my deeper vision can see my love

It’s all I am when lies will leave
I can not fall, I’ll always breathe
I keep ascending despite the dark
Because the deepest fears can’t take my heart

Copyright © Ian Petch