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Fear Ballad Poems | Ballad Poems About Fear

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

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Details | Ballade |

Fifteen tiny Swallows

Fifteen tiny swallows

Fifteen tiny swallows
All perched upon a fence
Oh what handsome fellows
But here, let me commence
To speak of all their beauty
These tiny little birds
All black and cream with a reddish throat
Oh how my heart they stirred

A lady walking with her dog
Disturbed these little guys
So from the fence these birds take wing
And head towards the skies
It seems that they are dancing
In the way they fly around
 They always seem to fly in circles 
And nearly touch the ground.

I walk around these wetlands
And wonder at it all
Everyday it’s something else
And it’s all so beautiful
Ducks and swallows, parrots too
And the beauty of the lake
I love to walk there most of all
At the coming of the daybreak.

16 August 2013 @ 1510hrs.




Details | Ballade |

Men of shame

Men of Shame

There’s a kind of sickness going round
That makes man act cruel.
He lives in a sordid little world
Creating his own rules.
Ruling with an iron fist
Cause power be his thing
Because his minds is very small
Such misery he brings.

His women have no rights at all
For they be mere possessions.
This ugly kind of human being
Has failed he all those lessons
That teach to act with decency
And treat a woman well
This evil man he treads a path
That leads him straight to Hell

His lady shrivels up so all
As he breeds within her fear.
He’ll raise his fist to bully her
Then say he holds her dear.
She doesn’t know just where to turn
She is caught within his trap
As he treats her like the enemy
And makes her life like crap.

Now when I meet a man like this
I look at all his shame
I don’t care about his childhood
It’s only he to blame.
He takes a Goddess, stops her flow
And bends her to his will
This man is such an evil beast
Maybe, he’ll even kill.

Written in 2003.


Details | Ballad |

Is It Worth It

Love can seem so happy and so wonderful
But it can hurt and take away from life too
You make me so happy and make me feel so special
But then you turn around and make me feel like ****
love can turn you into a whole new person
But you could change into to something great or something no one wants
Love seems so wonderful at first 
But spending my days not knowing if you want me or even care for me is agonizing 
Sometimes i feel like your lying to me but if i say that then you'll get mad again
Your such a loose cannon, ready to burst with rage and tears
Love is so temperamental 
so can you tell me....... 
Is It Worth It?


Details | Ballad |

A Poem About Nothing but Love

A Poem About Nothing but Love By: Tyner Twine "I edited a few parts from my original poem. As tribute to my first love's requiem. Nevertheless, this simple soul song is the same, Written all for love and not for fame. A poem of love I wrote on hot summer day, remembering the love that has, for so long, faded away." Would someone care to explain Why people write poems in a way That adorns with jewels something so plain That expresses emotions beyond the insane I lift my quill and dwelt on the thought, And realized the reflections I made and forgot... There I lift my pen THEN PAUSED and reflected: How should I begin to write, About lads and gals with love at first sight? Though I have tried as hard as I might, To close my eyes from love's delight, He won me over without a fight, Now all I see is love's pure light. I wondered... Now I shall write: Have I become some kind of fool Who let Love ruin my poems and rules? Who let Nostalgia come and play With distant Beloved's memories on a working day? Have I been foolish every night, To think his arms are holding me tight, To wish that he'll come home to stay, That he'll make love to me every night and day I think these thoughts and was appalled, How | felt too warm and oh, so galled In thinking that these thoughts might stay, and be my ruin at the end of the day. Love, oh love, is a cruel thing for fools if I might say, Though it is delightful it has a price to pay. Fool, fool, fool! With love as her tool... I am. Beguiled and ruined. Oh ~ why can't they just write about trees? Or how honey flows and comes from bees? Why can't they just write about the Sky? See the clouds and the mist and the birds that fly? Why can't they just write about life? How calves are born and how they die? How flowers bloom with the light of the moon, How the sun rose up and set too soon? Oh, a foolish poet's heart of clay, Be molded with the warmth of fate's faint sway! For life changed drastically above, As the fool that I am Writes a poem about nothing but love.


Details | Ballade |

Why aren't we happy

Why aren’t we happy?

What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.


And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?


If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.

6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.


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'


Details | Ballade |

Imagine

Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.


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


Details | Ballad |

Although Fertile Were the Fields

Although fertile were the fields, I plowed
That self-same earth lies barren now;
 Barren evermore.
 Still I shall not fear the wrath of God or Anyman
 For my seeds were sown in the wild and unsullied season
 Albeit the earth which absorbed the substance of my labors
  Yields neither fruit nor flower.

   Still what remains behind us after we have passed u nto nothing
  Is it the perception of ourselves by others
   Or the small and humble things that are the substance of my struggle?
   
    Although tertile were the fields I plowed
    That self-same earth lies batrren now;
     Barren evermore.
     Still I shall not fear the wrath of God or Anyman
     For my seedswere sown in the wild and unsullied season
     Albeit the earth which absorbed the substance of my loabors
      Yields neither fruit nor flower.


Details | Ballad |

Across the Way - The Sequel

Another day and the dishes have piled up yet again
So back I end up in front of the window 
I do not glance up, but concentrate
On the dull, dirtied objects before me
I do not hear the voices from yesterday
I still wallow in the grime of gray
I smile in malcontent
As I lather the dishes with soap
Against my will, I look up 
To see a lone, fat man opening a refrigerator
He is shirtless, bulgy, and he looks pregnant
My first supposition is to laugh
But I only look back down at the dishes
Not wanting to stare at the fat man
Not wanting to think he looks pregnant
For sure not wanting him to be my neighbor
Across the way

Against my will again, I look up
The fat, pregnant man is gone
I see ornaments on the refrigerator
Some pictures, some magnets
Family; not so different from my life
But yet, there is a transparent fancy of mystery
A flashy rage of difference in the silence
Oh, so quiet
The blazing sun sprays its light upon the hour
Not only are my hands wet from the soapy water
The deafening tone of quietude
Revels in me a mixture of loneliness and physical heat
A burning desire for something not seen
A desire for utter disgust of my newly found neighbors
But I find myself not disgusted at all
Until I look up again and see a fully naked man at the window
Across the way


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