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Mystery Ballad Poems | Mystery Poems About Ballad

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

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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 | Year Posted 2014

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 now occur on that lonely mountainside accordin' to local lore!
'Tis said on moonlit 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

Entry for Carol Eastman's "Story Poem" Contest

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad | |

The fall of Duke William: Ballad for the Acadians

The French sail
To the Riviera
From the metis 
To Canada

They became Acadians
And settled in Port Royale
Their lives were famine and conquest
But that didn’t hurt morale
The British were closing in
To evict the Acadians from the land
But they stood strong, and refused to yield
The British took control, and so began the great upheaval

Heed the wind
that rocks the sea
That carries the Acadians
No one be free

It’s a cold moon
 an old man looks upon
The only home he ever knew
And now his world is gone
His wife had died in labor
He had to start again
He found another wife
Had two children while his first bred was a man

They travel on the Duke William
The sickness takes many down
He feels the sickness coming in
Before his life be drowned
The ship moored off Canso
After the violet sank
Duke William would follow in Tow
His old life returns to the age

His son lives on
To move to Cajun’s wood
For the Acadian spirit carries on
To the future of his brood

Copyright © James Black | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad | |


She'd grasped me unwittingly
- we are no more on this earth!
I heard frightened squealing
- we are no more here and there!

those were her last words
big nothing - a simple say
as the end of the world
starts with the end of the day

my love – I'll fallow your way
throughout silvery cobweb
gently plated on horsetail scales
I'll bear thy ashes until last breath

and wind a prophet mad
will blow the tale of dawn
protruding from behind 
the veil of scorching night

with waving shimmer 
across the fading skies
we'd used to be a dreamers
and soon we'll turn in to a dust

we'd used to be a streamers
amongst the ashed stars 
as down below world grimmed
could not resist allure of bars

we'd used to be...
and be the peace with us
we are the leaves of tree
fondly axed apart

    Portlaoise 05/03/2016

Copyright © Marcin Malek | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

The ballad about Lucia Manco of Lucca

In the heart of the Tuscany under Italy's sun
Lies the town of Lucca, which is known to some
As Giacomo Puccini's birthplace, and the truth to be told,
He's Italian composer, one of the best in the world.

In the times of Medieval - far back in the past
Thrived the banking in Lucca and the art of silk craft ...
The legend has that at those times and in this very city
Lucia Manco lived so gorgeous, vane and pretty.

Though cunning Satan made her splendid stunning beauty last
On the condition that she must her lovers souls to Devil pass.
... For quite a while this deal worked really well
- Men souls were going from her bed straight to the Hell.

For quite long time she never fell in love, we trust
- Her drive was simply egotistic vanity and crave for lust.
But even magic comes to undeterred sudden end
- She met young man, to whom she loving heart of hers has lent.

She would not dare to corrupt his holesom soul,
And lost her beauty just at once forever and for all.
He lost his love to her at instance when she lost her femine charms .
But to the worst, the Devil told him that he held his mother in his arms!

Copyright © Prince Alexander | Year Posted 2015

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

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2005