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Freedom Ballad Poems | Ballad Poems About Freedom

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

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Details | Ballad |

Crying River

Crying River (The Untold Ballad) 

Undercover waters of rain dashing
The children are cold, no longer splashing
Tragic sobs, epic force of the mountain rain
Beautiful as it may seem, -shallow basin 

She cries, a tune, 
Mocking the Maple lands, a beautiful tune
Crooked Cornwall, she steams with the moon
Oceanic dreams, monsoon season, she swoon's
Frozen, dead, ice skating rink
Her winds, Pretty Chains O' Lake 
Wet and Wild, the Elk drinks from its garden
Water falls from the lids of Jordan
Beautiful as it may seem with open curtain

When the ocean succeeds away from the sea
She's awake during winter's rain torrents and breeze
Lost in the mud's of Bellaire's heartache,
River Blues, icy cold naps, bayous shutting up
Racing rivers crying by the western gutter
Silent, bells chime in the Black Mallard waters
Streams, blowing and drying dew droplets
Little rapid tears, everything spotless
Sugar, Swan waves down by Devils Creek
Listen to the thunder bay rolling deep
Beautiful as it may seem, she weeps

A northern world with streaks of falling rain
Pretty running white hair pane
A weather vane, snow dangles above her domain 
Beautiful crying winds
In the Eyes of Michigan

~SKAT~


Details | Ballad |

Signing Off

--Goodbye--To my Addiction-

The time has come to part,
I will leave many with broken hearts
If one day you call on me,
I'm sad to say I will hold my tongue missing each one relentlessly 
I'm not doing this for me; I am doing this for you
I could stay here and win, and not give in 
But, this soup bowl comes with demons and nasty shadows
Demons and nasty shadows, taking and crashing my light
Demons I had to fight off the entire time I was here
Shadows hating the way I welcomed every poet with a happy cheer
Demons and shadows whom drown in their selfish everyday pity.

For those smiling on my departure, 
I want you to have this wonderful gift 
So please copy paste this moment from the bottom of my heart
**I hope this gift brings you laughter, knowing 
I've been sad, these past few days, drying up my final soup tears**

I will miss this part of what makes me ME -my love and lust for poetry.
I agree with many I should never surrender to the envy of demonic dust
Giving up the passion that completed a part of my soul for years
But, the reality of life, is the life's I give and given when I make love happen
In my heart I know it's time to give myself back to reality
SO AT THE END I WIN, I'm the one who ends up with an everlasting smile
I'll finally be free from this place, where most treated me unfair & unkind
Free, from the negativity of the few who hide behind a dishonest disguise?

Wait until you notice your soup bowl's going stale
You will miss me, and I will miss you
But, my enemy will miss me even more
Reminiscing the times we spent hogging up 70% of blogs,
Arguing and fighting over not agreeing with many thoughts.
But, it was never the differences of opinions, it was more like---
Let's slay the Destroyer, a name like that should never be on top
So please know I am sad, and this is not the way I want to go
I'm not leaving you because I want to 
I'm leaving you because, the rumors are 
"The soup is better without the sweetness of the poet destroyer."
The only big thing about me -was my heart not my ego 
I never claimed to be the best; 
You're the one who claimed I am good enough
You took me in and returned my love
In ways others could and would not accept.
And for you my loving poet friends, and fans
I will walk away with my dignity/integrity; 
I can CARELESS IF I PLACE OR DON'T PLACE IN YOUR CONTEST
I guess I'm finally growing up 
In becoming the bigger/better poet.

Signing Off ---Love 
The Poet Destroyer


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 | Ballad |

A House On the Cliff's Edge

There is a house on the cliff’s edge,
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
At night, the tide lifts high against a foggy moon
In the morning, gloomy clouds settle with the sea
At times, not even the birds are seen or heard
The house is left to nature’s caress

Home-crafted seashell chimes sway and sing with the wind
Crushed sand dollars lie together on the back porch
The shells were once whole, collected by the former owners
Long gone are they now, smiling with the moon
The owners are the very sound of the ocean spray,
Striking the rocks, announcing the cool dawn of day
They are not the dark, empty rooms,
The rooms that nobody thinks of as they go about their lives
The quiet owners are long gone—thought of only by one
A stillborn legacy about as tiresome as the sun,
When the clouds crisp out its beams . . .

A seawater puddle is in the middle of the dining room
Nobody knows it sits there, sinking in the floorboards
It used to be a far larger puddle after a storm,
Stealthily leaking into the house
But now it is small—so small—and the boards are moist,
Moist with its only companion amongst the instilled silence

Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
They were not much for socials and gatherings
They always lived their quiet, happy lives
Without a care of the outside world,
Far from anybody’s thought
Miles from the nearest home
Where the next generation comfortably lives 

He never finished fixing that leak . . .

Sometimes the puddle gets bigger after other storms
And when it does, there is almost life there again
You can see the chandelier reflected on the unperturbed water
As a crystal dangles and falls from on high
The dark silence following the drop is as deep as thought . . .

Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
There is merely a house on the cliff’s edge
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline

-March 21, 2013-


Details | Ballad |

The country gathering

The country gathering

Sometimes the folk all got together
In the little country house
Now there was Tom the tiny tiger
Well, he could be a louse
But could he play that old guitar
Man! he made it speak
And when the folk did hear him play
He made their legs go weak.

There was Winifred the otter
How she did those drums
Her rhythm it could suck one in
If you were feeling glum
You’re legs would start to dancing
As you’d rise up to the sky
And all those troubles that you had
They’d fade away and die.

Now Mugly Minie, could she sing!!
She was the porcupine
She’d stand there with a glass of wine
And she’d just blow your mind
As Billie basset, the friendly bear
Would play that bass so cool
Now he was quiet, and very shy
But lord, he had it all.

People came from miles around
To hear those  fellows play
They’d dance and sing Chicago blues
Their hearts alive and gay
They’re going to be a big time band
One day, they all know this
But all they really want to do
Is play, that’s how it is.

24 July 2013 @ 1150hrs.


Details | Ballad |

He treads his own path

He treads his own path

In this world he lives in
Most people pass him by
No friends do ever welcome him
Cause he will never lie
And tell them what they want to hear
He’s a Sagittarian
And he just tells it how it is
When all is said done.

He bows not to authority
Though He’ll obey their laws
Yet politicians, priests and Kings
Don’t influence him no more
And all the so called truths he hears
He question all of this
He’d rather be a man alone
That’s just the way he is.

He’s stood alone for a long, long time
A weirdo some Call him
Because he has his very own mind
And finds his truths within
He has no fear of what’s ahead
Be it paradise or hell
To him it’s all called destiny
And only time will tell.

18 November 2013 @ 1145hrs.



 









Details | Ballade |

Being free

Being Free.

Don’t need no piles of money,
Ain’t got no strong desires.
My hormones don’t control me,
And cause too many fires.
I’ve got family around me
And we like to share a joke.
Sometimes I like a drink or two
And have a little smoke.

Ain’t got no strong religion,
I don’t have no beliefs.
But I’ve got a rich philosophy,
And I float just like a leaf,
On the river as I flow along
Being endlessly.
Merging with the breath of life
And all its mystery

I don’t need other people
Though they’re welcome to my show.
Maybe we’ll have a bonding,
And we’ll all start to flow.
I’ll give folk my compassion
And I’ll love them, if I can
That’s just who I am today?
I’m just that kind of man.


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 | Ballade |

Seventy one today

Seventy one today

Today it is my birthday
I’m turning seventy one
The sun is shining brightly
The morning has begun
I always thought by forty
That I would leave this shell
Maybe I’ll live to eighty
If everything goes well.

In the last ten years or so
I have learned so many things
I’ve learned a lot about happiness
I’ve learned to let my heart sing
I’ve learned a heap of wisdom
By looking at myself
And now I’m on this wondrous site
To spread about my wealth.

I had never found my destiny
I’d been a waste of space
I’d drank and smoked and carried on
I had never lived with grace
But now my life is changing
I’m on the freedom trail
Each day is now so very sweet
I am one happy male.

11 March 2014 @ 0705hrs




Details | Ballad |

The Definition Of A Real Woman

(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.

(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.

(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.

(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.

(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.



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