These Ballad Miracle poems are examples of Ballad poems about Miracle. These are the best examples of Ballad Miracle poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
and the wonderful seas.
and the perfect trees.
to bring you to your knees.
No longer wonderful,
no longer perfect,
it all ends in a suicide squeeze.
And after the death,
of every last person,
nature selects its nominees.
To start all over,
with a new life,
ruling the world is now the
And in this pitch black,
dark little world,
a human voice rings out in unease.
And the voice is heard by the now
who finds new strength,
to fulfill the child's pleas.
And the heavens come,
creating a magnificent breeze.
And the voice is discovered,
a hidden child,
who is rescued by the greatest of
And a great battle is fought,
many lives are lost,
for the smallest of adoptees.
And the world is rescued,
with but a few extra guaranties.
These are promises,
made from the earth,
sure enough an official decree.
21 February 2013
The summer passed so fast
I thought you and I would never last
You told me our memories won’t be just a blast
Ever was I the one to doubt our past.
Clouds were soon hiding the sun
The difficult hadn’t even yet begun
I saw your shadow everywhere I went
I guess that’s just how much you meant.
But even in the darkest hour
The moon was there-a source of power
And each look made you feel so near
A dream to chase the presence of my fear…
A poem for My Beloved
1.He is like a bunch of myrrh,
He is gilding my fingers
He is weaving into between
My breasts, He is cloaking on
My pearl buttons in sunrise redden
Like a droplets of blood,
A necklace of my heart,
A star of cinnamon tree,
A porcelain cup with milk
On a small table,
Till a silver spoon which
He is taking up slowly along
His stifling lips, and like a butterfly
Is swallowing a little chalice of my heart.
My beloved is walking and decreasing.
2. He wakes the forests green like emerald
Hayricks, white droplets, running on the
Face of the sky.
Eyebrows of clouds ,each snowdrop
Under His white fingers.
All blade of grass reducing.
The pomegranates are like big chalices
For Holy communion.
My Beloved lifted it.
His back have been cut of
Smart whips, blood veronicas
Shoots up His white skin,
Strained like a drum, for fierce mad
My Beloved will never be separated
From my breasts.
Myrrh deeply in my bosom and I
Live from her Holiness,
Golden lichen in golden hoops,
Tightens up my heart.
Beloved how giving out a sweet perfume,
Smells a summer.
Nina Mindova was born in Yambol, Bulgaria.
She graduated at Bulgarian philology, English philology in Paisii Hilendarski university in Plovdiv and Theology in VEBI Sofia..
She is author of six poetry books.
To imagine after all this time that has gone by,
I would be talking to the one that once caught my eye.
Out of nowhere one day she just seemed to appear,
Just so incredibley surprising to me after all of these years.
Sharing all those thoughts and dreams we once had ,
How we laughed at those days yet it made us a bit sad.
For the feelings I did not know she had for me ,
It only makes me wonder what our lives would be.
Our hearts now beating as they did back in the days,
How we are acting like children going out to play.
The love I feel for her has never felt so strong,
A love that once was I thought was forever gone.
But to my excitement I can honestly & sincerely say ,
The love that was lost has been found and here to stay.
This thing we have found in this love between you & me ,
Joy and happiness for the rest of our lives is what I see.
Princess Tinsels baby daughter
Has grown up quite a bit
And my, oh, my, she’s beautiful
Oh, she has all of it
A heart of gold, a lovely form
And she’s so full of bliss
Her name is Angelina
So very sweet she is.
She has a way with animals
That seems at times like magic
She loves all people, all of them
And when their days are tragic
She’ll give them the milk of kindness
She has the healing touch
And even gnomes and bitter demons
They all love her so much.
Angelina, she is loved
By all who hear her name
Folk they come from miles around
To see this girl of fame
One day she will be their queen
And it is plain to see
That when she takes that station on
A wondrous Queen she’ll be.
6 September 2013 @ 0535hrs.
As she showed her palm to the Seer
The air was thick with dread.
The girl's eyes were filled with her fear,
when her palm was read.
In a low, soft voice the Gyspy said:
"You will meet a good man..."
"Tall, dark, and handsome?" the girl said,
Not looking for romance.
"No," the woman said "someone better...
A Man who makes dreams real!"
"Who?" asked the girl in the sweater.
"That I cannot reveal..."
"I can tell you though..." said the hag.
"That you will meet soon,
somewhere far from this main old drag."
"How soon? Before a new moon?"
"Yes, yes, you must travel far and wide.
You will find him far-off,
In a home on the riverside,
Near a church and mosque."
"There he will teach you the secret...
The lost secret of life!"
The girl gaped at such tommyrot.
Angry, she said "Jesus Christ!"
"That CANNOT be true, you swindler!"
And with that she rushed out
Leaving the old fortune teller,
Who would sit there and wait.
You see the Seer knew something...
That the girl would meet him,
Soon, and then she would again think.
Soon, her dreams would evince.
Diamond worth of gold
Appraisal perhaps I should praise
If forsaken, then who am I in this den?
I ask if there will be a murmur.
Who declares “I am the forsaken!”?
Then watch your mouth and account for it
Who then worth praise or raise
Is it your darkness or your brightness?
Behold and admire your admirer
I proffer “can you create your naira”?
If yes, then claim mountain
Poor perplex night soil man.
If at most you posses a naira
Count this: a prerogative
For you is not anything
In the hands of your Maker
In God hands we are made
In His hands we are a fake
He gives and takes
In absent of no one
He is there as cake.
I never believe that a smile could hurt you
And cancel all hiding like a superstitious fear
To be separated by both --
The hiding darkness & the question who's kidding.
Not questioning any smile allow my womanhood to cross
Over your body, she says, gazing into my eyes, and with the touch
Of my nerve and what I stand, I make you stand.
That's my love, isn't? A windowless that only it's rolling on
And it makes the breathe to explode into the spring!
I can hear the choirs singing—
it’s a time for celebration,
to honor the Christ-child,
from ancient times of origin.
A time to thank the Father
for giving us His Son;
the greatest gift of love,
through which eternity is won.
Christ was born to save us
from our selfishness and sin;
a precious gift from the Father,
where His salvation seed did begin.
A beautiful innocent baby
born to a mother of innocence.
A miracle of God above;
a miracle of great importance.
The choirs sing His praises
in this very special season.
All heaven observes our celebration;
our precious Savior is the reason.
We offer joy, hope and peace;
with heaven’s touch to broaden.
Let’s celebrate the Christ-child’s birth,
born of God, a babe so sovereign.
This beautiful little baby
had a purpose so grand,
even His mother, Mary,
failed God’s plan to understand.
She did not know that her child
would die to save the lost.
Our celebrations should be extensive
for God’s love gift came at great cost.
Let’s join the many choirs
and sing God’s praises out loud;
Christmas is such a joyous time;
God’s great love to be avowed.
It’s a season to give thanks
for this Christ-child born on time;
God’s greatest love gift of all,
so majestic and divine!
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2010-2011