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Ballad Death Poems | Death Poems About Ballad

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

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 mount 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 strays 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 gasp 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. 

Next!
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.

by;PD


Details | Ballad |

The ballad of Tich Thomas

The Ballad of Tich Tomas
.
A dog was howling in the night
Perhaps she knew the truth
That Tich would not be coming home
This dog needed no proof
That the man who she loved so
He’d come to her no more
Because Lance corporal Thomas was
 A victim of the war.

Now Tich, he was a country boy
His farm it was his life
A boon to his community
He’d give in times of strife
He learned his trade in farming school
With honours he’d come through
Then settled down to work his farm
That’s what he planned to do.

But then, one day it came to him
The news he did not need
He’d been called up for army life
He went off without heed
To do his time in Puckapunyal
To get him set for war
He soon made it as Infanteer
So he joined a fighting corp

He worked real hard and gained a stripe
This showed he had potential
He earned his skills in jungle fighting
And then there came the call
For he to go to Vietnam
To five RAR he was sent
Charlie company was his unit
When off to war he went

It was in April sixty six
Our man went into battle
There in the Phuc Tuy provence
Those guns did roar and rattle
Our Tich he fought real gallantly
So brave was he, but then
The shrapnel done it’s evil job
He joined the fallen men.

They brought his body back to those
Who were waiting for him there
The whole town came to welcome him
And helped with grief and prayer
They buried him with all the honours
That came to fighting souls
Who died to keep their country free
Courageous in their roles.

More honour it was placed on him
By the country where he’d fought
They built a statue in his name
And his likeness it was caught
By the sculptor who did honour him
And carve him into stone
And now Tich Tomas guards the park
As he stands there all alone.

If you’re ever down in Nannup town
Go to the park that’s there
You’ll see the statue of young Tich
As his spirit everywhere
Will fill the souls of those who see
This fighting man, so brave
Who’s body lies so peacefully
In his own town, in a grave.

2007


Details | Ballad |

The Ballad of Malcolm McCorey

Come and listen awhile I pray
To hear a sad love story,
I have only a minute to stay
To tell the tale of Malcolm McCorey.

I'm Malcolm, Sally was my bride
I've loved her since grade school,
She was my life and my pride
And, I was her ever loving fool.

Work let off early that night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
When my eyes beheld the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.

My Sally was not forthcoming
And, I was blind by love's adoring,
I swear I never saw it coming
The day my Sally went a whoring.

This wasn't some casual adoring
That I might could understand,
This was at our home a whoring
In our bed with another man.

It was a cold and rainy night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
I wasn't prepared for the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.

The truth came like a blinding light
She couldn't wait to shut the door,
When I came home early that night
While she gaily played the whore!

She glared up at me in surprise
At seeing me suddenly arrive,
I stared back into her lying eyes
Down the barrel of my forty five!

It was a stormy and dismal night
And it kept pouring down in sheets,
I'll never forget the awful sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.

The Padre' comes to comfort me
My life's now run it's course,
Today my pain will cease to be
Soon, I'll feel no more remorse.

I forgive myself of all at last
My soul will soon go soaring,
Today will soon be o'er and past
The pain, of Sally gone a whoring.


* Malcolm was executed in may of 1969. May God have mercy on his soul.


                        Timothy I. Brumley


Details | Ballad |

The Ballad of Clifford Griffin

In the spring of 1880 young Clifford Griffin immigrated from England to Colorado.
The death of his fiancee left him bereft and he was searchin' for his El Dorado.
He settled in Silver Plume where he and his brother bought the Seven Thirty Mine.
Clifford and his brother Heneage became very rich from ore that assayed very fine!

With all his riches, Clifford chose to live in his lonely cabin above the town.
His only companion was his treasured violin which he played with some renown!
His melancholy melodies wafted down from his mountain aerie 'most every night,
To be heard by the whiskey-guzzlin' hard-scrabble miners to their delight!

Clifford always dressed in black, enjoyed fine cigars and was quite the dashin' bloke!
He seemed content with his solitary life and in business was as solid as an oak!
Alas, death cast its gloomy pall high above Silver Plume one moonlit night.
Instead of sweet violin music, a single shot was heard that left the town affright!

Next morn his mortal remains were found in a grave he'd dug for himself alone.
His heart-broken brother found the pistol with which his brains he had blown.
A grand monument was erected atop the mountain just above Silver Plume,
At the very spot where Clifford lay midst the ponderosa and Columbine bloom!

Mysterious events occur on that lonely mountainside accordin' to local lore!
'Tis said on windy nights sad violin music is heard below on the valley floor!
Folks have seen a black-clad phantom smokin' a cigar and drawin' a bow,
Playin' melancholy music and a wraith in Clifford's likeness a-swayin' to and fro!

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


Details | Free verse |

A Ballad of Fading Flesh

Under your skin lies a new body, 
a body so perfect you'd skin 
yourself if you knew how sublime 
existence could be with such 
perfect, shimmering and angular 
pulchritude. 

The same practice works with 
your mind. Just get rid of it, 
(a shotgun works well, or an icepick) 
and another will grow back in 
a few days, one without any of 
the prejudice, hatred, jealousy or 
fear 
of your old mind. 

The old mind goes to mind school, 
and learns how to not be a piece 
of sh*t. 
Then, it gets inserted into the open 
and waiting cranial cavity of a 
newborn Kamchatkan tribesman. 
This process is known 
as 'brain-birth.' 

Hopefully the Kamchatkans 
will never discover that 
their precious ritual 
is little more than 
psychosomatic thrift shopping.


Details | Ballad |

A ballad for Hannah

A ballad for Hannah (In memory)

I awoke this morning with a frightening chill,
Hannah has been killed
By a group of peers,
There was never any violence
Only immaturity from them all.

Day by day was Hell
She always felt like she was locked in a cell,
The rumors grew closer
Minutes got longer,
Death was knocking at the door.

No one noticed her sorrowful eyes
Or even wondered if she wanted to die,
All that mattered to them
Is letting everyone know
That she can not be trusted.

She plotted a devious deed
Who would notice this lead?
Her fall would be quick and painless,
No one would ever suspect it,
Hannah has been killed.


Details | I do not know? |

The Ballad of the Winter Fallen

It was the cold and dark of winter
I was outside playing alone
My fingers were chilled like cinders
I ventured far from home

I turned around and it was white
I couldn't see at all
So I closed my eyes real tight
Then I began to fall...

I fell into a slumber
Awaken by bright lights
I heard the sound of water
I felt I slept all night

I saw a beautiful girl
With a voice as enchanting as gold
Her clothes white as pearl
She wasn't that old

I took her sweet soft hand
We walked to a grave
The grave's in white sand
My soul she couldn't save

Lights of green and blue
I was suddenly in a room
Kids in white dresses too!
Could it be my doom?

Taken to water so clear
I could hear my dad calling
His voice full of fear
The sound so loud appalling

I fell into the pond
Appeared in front of the door
This is the truth my bond
My dream existed before