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Ballad Ballad Poems | Ballad Poems About Ballad

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Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad of the Poet

*The Dead Poet*

Many blocks along the road, 
Kicking down walls of heavy stones, 
Yet no one could draw through the walls of her lonely bones.
A poet who could not write what's inside. 
Her pen had gone ink dry. 
Her beady eyes lost the feel of an angelic realm.
She tried! 
She tried until she could no longer cry!
A poet who stuttered with the mind and out came no words.
This poet hangs on a mound with a picture that tells a sad tale.
A poem that broke verses in a Carpe diem dream.
She ruffled her arms once more as if she could fly.
Still nothing, 
Everything felt dead inside. 

Trap in a mental state that clots the willing vein.
Isolating her form in a room with no door.
She stays this away from the feel of the marvel pen.
To never go back, and feel again.

In the most ominous way,
She lets out a cry, 
A cry, never heard before. 
Running from this evil, that stain her world. 
Words buried deep and behind a new exterior box, 
Her insides grasp all the air of airs once alive. 
A talon drop into the next,
This troublesome poet gave up on everything. 
Had nothing left, but the empty space within. 

She curls herself into a fetal world.
At last, she closes her eyes, to feel no more.
A poet who died the day, joy wiped the glee from her face.


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The Ballad Of Poet Destroyer

"The Ballad of The Poet Destroyer"

Destroyer, and creator of words
Flying high on the wings of a bird
Drowning every inch, by foes and friends
Where has she gone?

When push came to shove, 
She continued standing tall after every fall
Falling fearlessly like the falling star tapping the lips
Topaz, a star in the eyes of envy the enemy
A dreamlike, miracle mirage, fresh like mints
No reason in remembering yesterday's sad song
Slightly she moves in with the new barren breeze,
A maze in disguise, no way out
A feeling so good, you hate
The naming of names, that won't escape you 
Your eyes of lust, imitate PD's sweetest touch, 
Destruction, with pleasure
A new day, killed by the morning after pill
Everyone gone, shadows remain
Where, has she gone? 

A feeling so good, you hate
Your unmatched precision, wobbles your stability
She'll give you a taste of rays, despite your low self-esteem 
Happiness turns to sadness, making every jaw drop
Where has she gone?

She's not the painting of Mona Lisa, 
However, it does not stop you from spending your cash-
-To see a picture painted with a frown,
Look what you've done!

Never to return, what was, what is!
You say you love her, then you run
A dry barrel, an empty gun, 
Never will the enemy be number one, 
Nothing but a shadow, a rug for PD,
Like a dream, her imagery is haunting
Love her or leave her, her pen name remains
Poet O' Poet where are you?

Advocate of smiles, enjoy her copy paste kiss
Trace her silhouette found in the midnight mist
Blindfolded, indulge by the wind
Breaking, the Texas Hold EM' Hand
Her freedom, her land
Gone insane, she laughs, 
Untouched she remains, she lives
Inside of me

By; PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |

The Butterfly's Ballad

I get a glimpse of you A soft hue of light lavender rising in my dawn Gliding fervently in sun-kissed breeze An ephemeral beauty enchanting the depths of these caramel eyes Your purple wings flaunt in whimsical ballad Sprinkling evanescent dew across the embers of my heart And I feel it,a florescent flutter tickling my bare shoulder chasing the back of my neck teasing in wistful wonder My blushed smile preserves the moment of your tender brush across the silk peach of my cheek Of your fervent kiss fading in ethereal bliss An unspoiled warmth of softened touch upon the almond scent of my hair My heart captures the seconds before those iridescent wings fly high in sheer splendor to crimson blossoms which bloom which sway,which bleed their rose which wrap their thorns around my feet,around my hand So I would not follow your shimmering dust on promised paths of rainbow's pastels So I would not find you in the faraway land Yet,here I am, On autumn's carpet I mark my footprints Yet,here I come So close to you Yes,here I stand.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop

Details | Personification | |

A Butterfly's Ballad in the Faraway Land

I get a glimpse of you A soft hue of light lavender rising in my dawn gliding fervently in sun-kissed breeze An ephemeral beauty enchanting the depths of these caramel eyes flaunting your gossamer wings in whimsical ballad sprinkling ethereal dew upon the embers of my heart And I feel it,a florescent flutter tickling my bare shoulder a slight inhale of fragrance's breath lingering within my thought chasing the back of my neck,teasing in wistful wonder My blushed smile preserves the moment Of your tender brush across the silk peach of my cheek Of your fervent kiss fading in evanescent bliss and unspoiled warmth of ardent touch upon my hair My heart capture the seconds till those iridescent wings fly high in sheer splendor to crimson blossoms which bloom,which sway which bleed and bend,which wrap their thorns around my feet,around my hand So,I would not follow dreams'coloured pastels So I would not run to you,and I would not find you by Spring's muddy gardens,in the faraway land. Contest : ' In the Faraway!!!' sponsored by G.Veneto Inspired by love and nature Written by- Charmaine Chircop

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop

Details | Personification | |

Ballad of Mistress Moon

The sun has deigned to smile on me 
And make me his mistress moon
He fills with fire and burns in me
With heat of the sultry noon

I’m ravished by his solar flares
That make my face to glow
All night there is a radiance
In silver streams that flow

On velvet sheets of midnight black
I reign, mistress supreme
The stars all look with wonder on
Entranced by each moon beam

The love he made remains in me
And pulsates forming tides
The sea and oceans can't be still
From love that in me bides

The waves, they swell and do my will
The mistress of the night
Reflecting love from lover Sun
Until he rules in light

The sun, he comes to smile at me
His lover, mistress moon
He raptures me in his embrace
My splendor will shine soon

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad of Goodie-Two-Shoes

My mother went to heaven on the day that I was born
My father raised me up before my mother he would join
He said, “Son, to get to heaven you must live a good, clean life
So you can go to meet your mother and see me with my wife.”

So, I tried to be good and I followed the golden rule
I did what I should and I was obedient all through school
I shared what I could and I read my bible every day
I tried to avoid evil thoughts and never a hurtful thing I’d say

The kids picked on me and “goodie-two-shoes” became my name
But, because I had a mission my actions always were the same
The road to meet my mother was a path to be kept clear
So bullies had their way with me – no retaliation need they fear

After my father passed away I met a beautiful young girl
She was everything to me; she was the rock in my empty world
We got married in the Summer; she was carrying my child in the Spring
I was looking forward to being a father to this miracle she would bring

I was working at a charity when they broke into my house
My wife tried to hide from them, being quiet as a mouse
They said, “Oh look, its goodie-two-shoes’ home, lets burn it to the ground”
When she yelled at them to stop this act, my wife was finally found

I won’t say what they did to her – the details I will spare
When she said, “My husband will soon be back”, they said, “What do we care”
“Goodie-two-shoes shares everything, of course he’d share his wife
Besides, that man’s a coward; we can do just what we like.”

When I came home and saw her, my mother spoke into my ear,
“Don’t worry about heaven, son, I’ve always been right here.”
I took my wife to the hospital, where they said she’d be okay
Then I went to find those bastards and wipe my life of good away

When they saw me approaching they laughed right into my face
With the first swing of the baseball bat I fell from heavens’ grace
Two men were unconscious before the third knew what to do
The bullet that he shot at me, my shoulder it passed right through

Justifiable homicide – on probation for ten years
My wife and son at my side, there is happiness in my tears
My mother and father visit me every night in my bedtime dreams
I didn’t need to take that path to heaven – or so, at least, it seems

Copyright © Joe Flach

Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad of White Bird Pass - For Truckers and Those Who Love them

Dedicated to those who work day and night in all kinds of weather to bring us our stuff.  We all know we get cranky if we don’t get our stuff!

My daddy was a truckin’ man, back in ’63 hardly ever home with his family of three. Mostly drivin’ Idaho, highway 95. Drivin’ in the winter, hard to stay alive. He headed up to Grangeville, loaded with some gas had to cross the twister — dreaded White Bird Pass Road coiled like a slinky, full of mule-shoe turns. Wasn’t any guard rail then, just some earthen berms. Middle of a blizzard, wasn’t fit for beast nor man. Daddy had no choice, there was no better plan. Chained the drivers like he should, headed up the hill. Taming curves on snow-packed ice, required an iron will. A mile from the summit, the blizzard took a break What my daddy saw, surely made him shake. A wagon full of cub scouts, some mama at the wheel crossed the line a skiddin' — he likely heard her squeal. In a fatal instant, a fateful choice he made he saved a pack of lives, but his truck went o’er the grade. A jackknifed trailer skidding weighed dang-near fifteen tons but it saved a tearful mother and dozen mother’s sons. Somehow Daddy managed, to make that truck a dove, it touched the wagon’s bumper, like a gentle velvet glove. In the mirror he watched, as he headed out of sight, the wagon gently kissed the uphill bank, ending one bad plight. The choice he made that day, became my daddy’s end. His truck rolled down the hill, his very final bend. Now there is a new road, on that very hill Modern, straighter, safer, because of daddy Bill. If you’re ever out that way, be sure to stop and read the sign: “A hero lived and died here, way before his time.”

Copyright © John Wulf

Details | Free verse | |

Ballad of Love

As the chandelier dances with lustrous light.
Eras of still slumber awoken...from fluid dreams, the depths of her confines...hibernating..
..fermenting her taste...timeless beauty.
Legends of vineyards past...uncorked.
Poured into existence by a charming present sommelier..
The bubbling prelude enters...a smoke filled scene.

Her sparkling silhouette...emerges on a silver platter.
...of her bottled mystery of decades past.

Penning the inception of empty chapters of glass...
..with her sweet tasting presence...
...nervously sweating condensation.
Fulfilling the myths of bottled beauty of life’s unknowns.
Overflowing the liquid stanzas 
...of dazzling passion.

Her legacy manifests...scripting an ardent saga,
Staining the aura of pleasant reality.
Shining elegantly...while striding across marble floors.
Echoing...soft chronicles of champagne light.

Love, a berry...plucked from vineyards afar..
...bottled for aging beauty...filled to the capacity of his clear figure..
While passionately...embraced by his fragileness of crystal arms. the ballad of wine and glass.

Copyright © Raul Moreno

Details | Ballad | |

The Rabbit and the Fox 20 line Ballad

~~ The  Rabbit and the Fox   ~~  20 line Ballad
The Rabbit and the Fox
The Rabbit and the Fox are here
go down south, to Australia
They have a bounty on the Fox
Bring in his skin they’ll pay ya

Myxameatosis germ warfare  (first ever)
Just for the Bagman's bunny  (our ww1 war crazed soldiers lived on rabbit in solitude)
Old Rabbit got mattry eyed 
It really wasn’t funny

Great depression in the 20s
We lived on lovely rabbit
skins made the Slouch hat
Our soldiers wear, our habit  (fur felt made the hat)

The master took the Rabbit   (Squatters said plague) 
No more free feeds for us
So we started eating of his sheep
Become a bit nonplussed

They brought another virus out
To kill off outlaw rabbit
But bunny still gets about
The Fox your hens will have it

Don Johnson  

Copyright © DON JOHNSON

Details | Ballad | |

Ballad of a black slave

This is the ballad of the black slave, Who has been beaten and disgraced, Who has been called the n word, Who has recieved no pay. This is the ballad of the black slave, Who prays for freedom every night, Who is going to rebel, For what he think is right. Now this is the ballad of the freed slave, Who has seen much blood shed, Who has fought for equal rights, And who has won his freedom.

Copyright © shacorrie harvey

Details | Ballad | |

Ballad of a hero

Ballad of a hero.

There was a man, he had a dog
A Rotty, Broad and tall
With shiny fur and healthy eyes
Oh, he was beautiful
No matter where the good man went
The dog was sure to follow
They often went down to the river
And sat in a little hollow.

One day the man, he slipped and fell
He was swept off by the river
The poor man he had never swam
But the dog, he did decipher
That his master, he was drowning
He knew what he must do
He’d save the man he dearly loved
He jumped in the river too.

This dog called Bear, swam to the man
Who, was just about to drown
He grabbed the man’s coat in his jaws
As he was going down
With Dan, our man hugging his neck
Bear swam him back to shore
Then laid there tired, and panting too
Hero, was he, for sure.

Our Bear became a legend, then
Of this little country town
 And everyone did make of him
A dog of much renown
They made up songs about the dog
Spoiled him in every way
So like a king, old Bear he lived
Until his dying day.

18 February 2014 @ 1440hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

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 | Ballad | |

The Ballad Of Prospector Pete

Prospector Pete had roamed the hills fer years searchin' fer gold!
He and his faithful burro, Fred, were both growin' weary and old.
He'd looked fer color in many a mountain and stream in Colorado,
Lookin' fer that mother lode, that elusive vein, his own El Dorado!

Oh, he'd found a few nuggets here and there, but didn't amount to much.
Those he did find he'd blown on gamblin', women, whiskey and such!
Pete would save a bag of dust or two from his many wanton toots,
To grubstake himself to re-supply his picks, jeans, shovels and boots.

He staked his claims along ripplin' streams and left many holes along the way.
The mountains and valleys are pocked with his many diggin's to this very day!
He'd come up dry, nothin' there, and move on to more appealin' pickin's,
Burrowin' and pannin' with elbows flyin' workin' like the dickens!

Pete would winter in his cabin 'til spring then he'd begin his annual quest,
Packin' his tools on long-sufferin' Fred and headin' fer the hills to the west.
If he didn't find that elusive bonanza this year he swore that he would retire,
To his ramshackle cabin at the foot of Mount Pisgah and enjoy the blazin' fire!

Years passed and Prospector Pete wasn't seen 'round town much anymore.
On a wintry day his friends found him froze to death upon his cabin floor!
They dug Prospector Pete's grave and buried him outside his cabin door.
Eureka! Six feet down was that vein of gold that he'd been lookin' for!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Ballad | |

Ballad of a fighting man

Ballad of a fighting man

I’d rode along that dusty trail
For five long days, and more
That sun had beaten down on me
I was a thirsty man for sure
I entered me, Rotgut Saloon
And strolled up to the bar
I said “Bartender give me whiskey
For I have travelled far”

Folk were crowded round that bar
All drinking thirstily
They all looked wary, and afraid. 
They had in them no glee
I needed me, some conversation
So I’m looking all around
And then this voice it growls at me
A cold, and fearsome sound.

I looked into this pilgrims face
I don’t like what I see
Two glaring eyes as cold as steel
They pierced right into me 
I knew this guy meant me no good
He’d never be my friend
That if I did not act real soon
It would surely be my end.

His voice said ‘Draw you mangy dog’
And he went for his gun
His hand it moved like lightning
I knew I’d be the one
To die, unless I moved real quick
My hand was fast as light
Two shots rang out like they were one
And that did end the fight.

I saw his body lying there
It laid still on the floor
Although his draw was lightning quick
 My speed was even more
So Winston Kelly lived no more
While a wound was all I had
Although I was the Victor then
I really felt quite sad.

This man died, oh lord what for?
What a crazy world I lived in
I swore that I’d not fight again
A new life I’d begin
I hung my shooter up forever
And I became a preacher
And, of the ways of our good Lord
I did become a teacher.

11 July 2014 1725hrs.

Written for Jerry's contest 'A town called 'Rotgut'

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Ballad | |

Ballad of Dreams: One: Beneath the Realm part one

Beneath the realm of Reality
Lies a secret- a world of fantasy
Feasting my eyes upon the faded stone
Delving into a vast world of the unknown

Whispers dance in the curling fog dancing amongst the dead trees
Murmurs of those who have long passed, float against the breeze
Passing the large tree, the gate surrounding the stoned castle
A slender inhabitant, dazzles my mind, his speech facile

Shall I trust this unknown creature, from this the unknown world
His arms, his...tendrils, curl...and around me swirled
My thoughts-he knows them-for he and I are entwined
Further into the dead woods I wonder, a sense of fear encompassing my mind

A bubbling stream I faintly hear, as further I go into the forest
The watery grave seeming to get closer, it's symphony-a chorus
Entranced I follow this fellow into the unknown
Closer and close to the stream i go, further away from the grey stone

Above the lines of fantasy
This, has become my reality
Dreaming-this land I return, once was I lost
But now here I am at home, everything quiet and soft

I search for you amongst the dead
And there, standing behind those gates is cloaked figure-hood on head
I wonder who this master of mystery is, but he soon disappears
A blink of my eye he is gone, and I have not seen him again in years

I search once more for you, my fiendish friend,
But soon I fear you have left me here-to come to my own end
I do not wish to wake, I do not wish to leave this place
Soon I come to spot your featureless face

The King of fright, so tender towards me
Showing me, when I lost my way so long ago, out misty dead trees
But I could not stay away, I wanted to see him again
And thus he promised to return to me again

That forest land I wish to see once more
But I have lost my way, trapped in a darkness forevermore
Kept away from what I so desperately yearn for
To return to that mysterious home I adore

Copyright © Rebecca Larkin

Details | Rhyme | |

The ballad of ol' Joe'

*Come and listen to my tale about a man named Joe.
Who was Jesus Christ? Well, he didn't really know'
Then one day he read John, Chapter three;
His eyes were opened up and he began to see.
     Pearls of truth, that is; wisdom, pure love'

First thing you know, ol' Joe did repent,
Of things he had done and places where he went.
His life turned around in such a drastic change.
That family and friends thought he was really strange'
     A loose cannon, that is; three bricks shy of a full load'

Joe began to read, and he began to pray;
The Lord began to show him a new and living way'
He taught Joe how he could walk in love,
Just like his Heavenly Father above.
     In Holiness, that is; sanctified; uprightly.
Ol' Joe kept a-studying and he kept on a-growing'
By his testimony the kinsfolks knew where he was goin'.
He would witness on the corner and even on the stairs,
When persecution rose up, he didn't have a care.
     Total peace; surrendered; anxious for nothing'

Joe loved to talk to people- that became his ministry.
He turned many souls from a God-less eternity'
And as Joe advanced in his earthly years,
He became ever more thankful for Jesus, so dear.
     Wonderful counselor; Saviour; friend'

Now it's time to say goodbye to Joe and all his friends.
They would like to thank "y'all" for kindly droppin' in
You're each invited to join Joe for all eternity,
To worship at God's Throne and praise His Majesty'

                                                                                Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
                                                                                March 4, 2007

*With apologies to " The Beverly Hillbillies"



Copyright © Robert Ball

Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad of Pearl Harbor

Just sitting there mighty 
The ships and the people.
Flying American
Flags and the eagle.
Just sitting in harbor
That Sunday morn,
Oblivious to battle
And coming forlorn.

Drinking their coffee
And eating their breakfast
Things were going
Right along with their wishes
When suddenly a soldier
Did speak up and say,
"They're some blips on the radar
And they're coming our way!"

Then the officer said
"Now look here you see,
They're our boys coming home
In their B-17's.
So don't get all worked up,
No excitement today,
So get back to working
And resting and play!"

Now planes flying by
Were soon to be heard
But a shout soon went up
"Hey! Those are not our birds!"
Explosions to follow
Soon filled the sky
Now stand up and fight,
Or lay down and die

Guns fired back,
The battle was on,
But pretty soon after
The battleships were gone!
They were stuck in the harbor
With no way out,
And smoke's hanging over
The harbor in clouds

A valiant defensive 
The defenders put forth
Desperately trying to
Even the score,
But their goals completed
The enemy turned back
Leaving behind them
Devastation and black

Many men died
On that fateful day
But a little luck came
The American's way!
Their carriers were still,
Far out at sea,
And part of the battle
They never did be!

Pearl Harbor will live on 
In infamy
Stories of those who died
To keep their land free!
Their ultimate sacrifice
Helped the whole world to see
That America's the land
Of the brave and the free!

Copyright © Daniel McAdams

Details | Ballad | |

Ballad of Sammy Taylor

Sammy Taylor was a good kid, as everyone could see He was destined for greatness unknown to you and me. From the hills of West Virginia, a place called Whittlers’ Bend. He left one day in ’66 never to return again. Folks all remember Sammy for the goodness in his soul. A smile and sparkle in his eyes glittered just like gold. Sammy considered all the people as family to him. When he was called to fight for peace in a place called simply, 'Nam'. He grew up a hunter and loved his fishin’ too So things the outdoors offered Sammy weren’t all that new. ‘Nam' was not the West Virginia Mountains that he knew. The morning he woke up on a hill called 14 Blue. Charlie had been active there just the day before And signs that he was very close could not be ignored. While all remained quiet throughout that August day Little did anybody know that night would bring hell to pay. It was just about a quarter to three, and all was strangely quiet, When the chatter of an M16 broke the silence of the night. There was a pop and then a flare gave vision to the night…. A voice was heard to say, “Charlie’s on his way and he’s coming here to fight.” Now, Sammy had already seen his share of hell on earth And Charlie’s demons gave him one more chance to prove his worth. A dedicated VC soldier was always an awesome foe But nothing will surpass the courage Sammy would soon show. Sammy found himself in front of an insane VC charge He barely had the time to yell, “They’re comin’, Look Out, Sarge!” A VC grenade proved to be his last courageous test When a West Virginia mountain boy covered it with his chest. Now, there’s a house in Whittlers’ Bend with a medal on a wall. But the plaque hanging there beside it cannot tell it all--- How Sammy Taylor went outside, one morning, just to play, Then, some years later, gave his all, in a place so far away. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13 Written By John Posey 05/18/13

Copyright © John Posey

Details | Rhyme | |

The Ballad Of Billy The Kid

The Ballad of Billy the Kid
is a song Billy Joel composed and did.
Not one part of that song is historically accurate.
He has the Kid robbing a bank and killing the teller too.
The Kid gets captured and hanged for the public to view.
Mr Joel, where in the hell did you get your information from?
It's guys like you who give the Kid a bad reputation.

Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster

Details | Ballad | |

A Poetry Ballad

Ballad of the poet

When the moon kissed the sun, and light spread upon the earth. *hh*
Bright and early, 
early bird gets the worm.

With sullen time on stand by.... *DJ*"
Spurns emerald valleys that blur upon my new-found perch  *J.M.G*
While all nature wakes from slumber in timeless glory. *E.G*
Morning glory stroked by a ceremonious dandelion... whisper~   *K.D*

Bitter like morning breath.
Rooster crows, two songs, I share a note with him.
My cat rises to the sun of a new day.
Stretches into a c with her tongue curled and tail furled  *S.K.*
My coffee offers the sweetest taste after a goodbye kiss.
Clever and warm, I twinkle to the new morning light,
as I step outside, something pierced my heart..
~Wing broken, his bow in tow, arrows strewn, 
~No flight for thee, love lost, bent arrows I see,"  *R.M*
Everything I see, everything I feel around me.
Becomes a new song.
Born of many emotions.
I roll them on a paper without a pen. 
BUT!  In my mind they speak clearly to me~
Look into My eyes with your heart... and there you will find your soul  * R.A.D.*

"I hear an angel calling The beastly being within"   *R.S*
A new creation awaits beyond the path of dreams content,
Eros and Cupid both shoot through my heart."  *J.H.*
As the arrow's liquid enters my soul...    *RON*
Will that winged creature with the bow and arrows stop blinking his eyes?" *R.P*
He has stretched his wings too far this time.  *V.B.*
"His arrow of love is strumming my heart with golden grace.  *L.M*
A Halo'd smile upon my face.    * L.H*
Has suddenly turned to a grimace!   *G.S.*

(( feel free to add a line** in my comment box... ))

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad Of James 'Umbrella Jim' Miner

'Umbrella Jim' was the sneakiest scoundrel west of the Missisip'!
Usin' the shell game and sleight of hand, of yer purse he'd gyp.
He'd set up shop 'neath an umbrella whether inside or under an oak.
Usin' three thimbles and a ball he cleaned the jeans of many a bloke!
'Umbrella Jim' was a renown huckster as well as bein' quite witty.
He'd warm up his potential victims by singin' this delightful ditty:
"A little bit of fun now and then,
Is relished by the best of men!
Select yer shell!  The one you choose,
If right you win, if not, you lose!
But I'll warn ye, yer chances are mighty slim,
Of winnin' a prize from Umbrella Jim!"
'Twas his regular trade to deceive the eye with sleight of hand.
He was very adept at what he did and his every move was planned.
The fate of 'Umbrella Jim' as far as I can tell is unknown,
But I'd bet some sucker saw him hung from an oak, if truth be known!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Ballad | |

NO MAN STANDS ALONE - The Ballad of Barney Ross

No man stands alone
in the street, the ring or the combat zone
some lay in the gutter
some sit on a throne
but no man stands alone

At the age of fourteen 
he had a dream
to become a rabbi 
Chicago 1924
then his dad was killed by men
who tried to rob the family store
his brothers and sisters were sent away
to an orphanage where they would stay
and though his faith was blown away
he vowed to bring them home someday

To God and man revenge he swore
he walked with gamblers, 
hoods and whores
he fit right in 
then on a whim
he walked into a boxing gym
he fought Canzoneri in ‘33
for the lightweight title victory
he made up with God 
and finally
he could reclaim his family

Those McLarnon fights 
were the stuff of lore
the only man 
to ever put him on the floor
he won two out of three, 
then in the Armstrong bout
he nearly died 
but was never knocked out
then in 1941
the Japanese pulled a sneaky one
so he joined the marines 
and he got a gun
and he sailed into the rising sun

On Guadalcanal, 
he fought so brave
overmatched like old King Dave
he put twenty attackers 
in an early grave
for the one marine 
whose life he saved
in a hospital bed 
for months and days
they kept him in a morphine haze
then sent him home 
strung out and beat
to the pushers on the mean, mean street

Hollywood was very keen
to put his story on the silver screen
but they focused on the drug abuse
he tried to sue 
but what’s the use?
Barney Ross was brave and strong
they couldn’t keep him down for long
his rabbi said that he must try
to be a model Jew in the public eye

but from the public eye he slipped
like a phantom radar blip
they say he hunted Nazi criminals
and he ran some guns to Israel

Barney Ross was brave and strong
I thought that he deserved a song
he did some bad
he did some good
and he saved the world
the best he could

Copyright © Art Wright

Details | Narrative | |

A Doctors Ballad

I never really understood people until I took apart my old school chum Rick.
Now I know exactly what makes the human heart tick.
The intricacy of the human circuitry is Gods most artful work without uncertainty.
Like a great operatic performance accompanied by a grand orchestra, all our organs sing as one and all together.
To give such life as this in a manor of theatrical grandeur, but life comes at a cost however, this is something that we can not sever, for one soul to live it must take from another.
You see hunting a human is just like hunting any animal, you always track those that are weak and incapable.
I study those that indulge greatly in life's pleasurable sins, I always proceed to take them apart starting with their limbs.
To squander such a gift is a crime against those souls no longer living.
It is a crime that should be dealt with swiftly and unforgiving.
You may find my words harsh and cruel but punishment is dealt where punishment is due.
The scholars and gossips call me a Devil worshiper or a Satanist.
But I am an admirer of God and I dream to be like him, a great creationist. 
To some I'm known as the mad doctor who haunts the river Rhine, but to my acquaintances I'm known simply as Victor Frankenstein.

Copyright © Damien Biggs

Details | Rhyme | |

The Ballad Of 'Soapy' Smith

Jefferson Randolph 'Soapy' Smith was the wiliest scoundrel in the west!
He was invited to leave numerous towns since he wasn't a welcome guest!
He swindled gullible dudes throughout the west endin' up in Colorado,
Where he earned the sobriquet 'Soapy' and where he found his El Dorado!

He'd set up a soap display on a Denver street and invite folks to gather 'round.
His spiel began: "Buy a bar for a dollar and inside money may be found!"
The rush was on and suckers fought to buy bars of soap, gamblin' on a win!
Cops were even called to the scene to maintain order and to quell the din!

Folks tore at wrappers and one feller hollered, "I got a hundred dollar bill!"
Little did the unsuspectin' boobs know that it was 'Soapy's' planted shill!
Dupes lost their dough and with a five-cent bar of soap they were stuck,
He pulled the scam time and again and that's how "Soapy's' name was struck!

'Soapy' pulled up stakes in Denver and migrated to other towns out west.
He was successful with the soap scam and was adept at hidin' aces in his vest!
He made his way to Creede where he established the Orleans Gamblers Saloon.
There, 'Soapy' was involved in nefarious affairs and left town none too soon!

The gold rush was on in the Yukon and he pined to go there ere it was too late.
He arrived in Skagway and later on in Juneau where he was to meet his fate.
'Soapy' met his end in a gunfight and his final words were, "My God, don't shoot!"
Thus ends the ballad of 'Soapy' Smith, that swindlin', cheatin', rotten galoot!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Verse | |

Barbed Wire Ballad - (3)

Rusted wire against a tree, year by year recedes
The countless rings of outer bark enwrap the wire within.
I mark the circles choking me.  I’m taut, stretched thin.
Thus Time is so absorbing me. Consumed. The oak tree feeds.

Copyright © Steve Eng

Details | Ballad | |

The ballad of Rebecca Ann Sedwick

Trees swaying to that melody
Sun shines down her body
On the news, about that tragedy
Laying there my dolly

  Here here bully, are you happy
Your words tore her apart
Here here bully, she was lovely
Her wrists so full of art

She was very insecure
Rebecca was her name
But you were so immature
She was no longer the same

How to take blades out of razors
Was her daily question
Missed out on so many fundraisers
She never made that confession

Here here bully, are you happy
You caused all these things
You were why she felt so scrappy
She jumped, hoping for wings

The very last words to her mom were
'Good night mom, I love you'
Now tell me, what do you conclur
Do you finally have a clue

Started because of a boyfriend
Were her friends, not her foe
Wasn't it stupid to join that trend
She went up, looking down below

While she went up the stairs, she cried
Because of you she jumped
She just jumped, with her arms out wide
At her throat was a lump

Here here bully, can't you just see
Your words have an impact
She thought that jump would set her free
Wasn't long until she cracked

Body on the ground, what a sight
But now that it is done
It is definitely not alright
So you might just want to run

Copyright © Bianca Perillo

Details | Ballad | |

The bawdy ballad of Robin Hood

Oooh Miss Whiplash 
Hit me with your cane 
Oooh Miss Whiplash 
Make me feel the pain 
and if I beg for mercy 
Please hit me once again 
Oooh Miss Whiplash
Hit me with your cane .

The merry men are captured 
and placed in the castle stocks
Tights pulled down around their ankles
They are wearing them like socks
For Prince John has hired Miss Whiplash
Telling her to whip their butts
but Robin hood is excited 
and can't keep his mouth shut .

Oooh Miss whiplash 
Hit me with your cane 
Oooh Miss Whiplash
make me feel the pain 
and if I beg for mercy 
Please hit me once again 
Oooh Miss Whiplash
Hit me with your cane .

Punishment is over 
The merry men set free 
Robin vows to rob the rich 
Until he rids Nottingham of poverty
but he knows his men need discipline 
To keep them on the right track
So he has kidnapped Miss Whiplash
and he's never going to give her back .

Oooh Miss Whiplash 
Hit me with your cane 
Oooh Miss Whiplash 
Make me feel the pain 
and if I beg for mercy 
Please hit me once again 
Oooh Miss Whiplash
Hit me with your cane . 

The wealthy have been so greedy 
Taxation so unfair 
Robin and his Merry men 
Are hero worshipped everywhere
The poor can have the money 
His men distribute it with care 
but Miss Whiplash he keeps for himself 
He's just not willing to share . 

Oooh Miss Whiplash
Hit me with your cane 
Oooh Miss Whiplash
Make me feel the pain
and if I beg for mercy 
Please hit me once again 
Oooh Miss Whiplash
Hit me with your cane .

For the Robin Hood Contest .
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst.


Details | Rhyme | |

Ballad Of The Happy Valley Baptist Church

Accordin'  to my totally unbiased and very detailed research,
Jerimiah Flood pastored the Happy Valley Baptist Church.
From the pulpit he flailed his arms as if fightin' a hive of bees,
Elicitin' "Hallelujahs" and bringin' sinners fallin' to their knees!

His boomin' voice disturbed the peace of those who chose to sleep.
Interminable two-hour sermons were tolerated by his faithful flock of sheep.
He preached hellfire and damnation and the dire results of sin.
He was a'gin any form of gamblin' or dancin' and drinkin' moonshine gin!

An all-day meetin' with dinner on the grounds was an annual tradition,
A time to repent for sins of commission and omission in order to avoid perdition!
Dinner was held under the spreadin' sycamores if the weather allowed.
A half-hour blessin' by Jerimiah was normal as hungry stomachs growled!

Tables groaned 'neath heaps of fried chicken, baked beans and pertaters,
Green bean casseroles and garden fresh stuff includin' beefsteak termaters.
Most disturbin' and unknown to the reverend, there was a little tad of booze,
Snuck into the gatherin' and surreptitiously shared by old Deacon Hughes!

Pastor Flood served the faithful congregation for nigh on forty years,
Baptisin', marryin' and buryin' through many happy times and tears.
Oh, I failed to mention Sister Lois, ancient organist and director of the choir.
Her tea was spiked and she became so inebriated she was invited to retire!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw

Details | Ballad | |

The Ballad of Pandora

The story of Pandora.

Zeus was an angry God
Cause man accepted fire
To get revenge, and very soon
It was his one desire
With the help of the other gods
He made the first woman
He placed a veil upon her head
And this story then began.

The lady’s name it was Pandora
For Epimetheus she was a gift
Who took her as his bride to be
Which gave him such a lift
Zeus gave them as a wedding gift
A lovely wooden chest
He told them not to open it
It would cause unhappiness.

He put the chest out of his sight
He knew he would not need it
After all, he had Pandora
And this pleased him quite a bit
One day Pandora found the chest
And she asked him ‘what is this’?
Epimetheus told her not to touch it
Said ‘that’s the way it is’.

Pandora thought about that chest
She went to check it out
Then she heard these voices speak
And she had pangs of doubt
As the voices said ‘Oh, please Pandora
You have to let us go’
And in the end she opened it
Though why, she did not know.

Then bang, the lid did open wide
And an icy wind blew out
Pandora she was blown over
She was blown all about
Slimy creatures, with growling voices
Did crawl out from the chest
Pandora looked at all of this
And she was not impressed.

‘I am disease said one foul beast
I’m cruelty said another
I am pain, and she’s old age
This voice came from some other
I’m disappointment, he is hate
Said another slimy creature
As one by one these ugly beasts
They all of them did feature.

I’m jealousy, and he is war
Another creature said
And I am death said the softest voice
I fill you full of dread’
The creatures oozed on out of windows
And slithered all around
As all the plants, and flowers shriveled
What destruction could be found.

The fruit on the trees, it all went mouldy
The sky turned filthy yellow
The sound of crying filled the sky
Some would holler, some would bellow.
Pandora crashed that lid on down
Then she heard a sweet voice say
“I am hope, please let me go
You will need me some day’

Pandora lifted up the lid
A butterfly flew out
As she was battered by the wind
Life did a turn about
As a watery sun came out
And shone upon the flowers
Everything came back to life
And all regained their power.

1 February 2014 @ 1530hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Limerick | |

Charlie's New Ballad - no more Chicken of the Sea

The lawsuit by StarKist is valid.
Their long time promoter’s new ballad
warns fish to stay clear
of fisherman’s pier,
or end up in somebody’s salad!

For Skat's Any Old Poem #6 - Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich