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Ballad Places Poems | Ballad Poems About Places

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

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Details | Ballad |


No pagan crown of fossil lairs
Of him I write no verse nor song
T’is not a soup to stir nor share
When lending strength, to something wrong.

Seconds cloned from darkest matter
Mutated minutes dredged by fear
Mind confusion as reason shatters
Innocents lanced by emotion's spears.

Flowers edge the steps and fences
Prayers are uttered near a shrine
Notes of love, as grief commences 
A vigil wrought by hearts sublime.

Picking up the scattered pieces
Light must shine to crack the dawn
Support can smooth the furrowed creases
Only hope can make their spirits strong.

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Tropical Obsession

I've got a tropical obsession
I think I'm losing my mind
I want to see my work day done
Go out and have some fun
And leave the city life behind.

I love the roar of the ocean
The smell of tanning lotion
A secluded beach somewhere
There are coconuts in the trees
With a warm and gentle breeze
And a flower in your hair.

I've got a tropical obsession
It's driving me up a wall
I want the palm trees and the shore
Blue skies and so much more
Oh God! I want it all

There's an island in the sea
I can hear it calling me
Saying come on home today
I'll bring my old beach chair
Plant it in the sand somewhere
And that's where I'm going to stay

I've got a tropical obsession
And I just can't set it free
On an island remote
In a little fishing boat
Is where I want to be.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |


I came here with flowers
held gently to my sobbing chest,
to bring them to my dearest;
I have departed from the living,
to come face to face with my ending...

I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone...
engraved with a name too sweet,
and yet so painful to call it out;
the heat in my throbbing veins
could warm it up with a loving wish before dawn;
but who can resurrect someone from death?

This morning is dazzled by an intense sun,
carnations, flags and tombstones
perfectly blend as the swaying pines 
offer their breeze and soothing shade towards noon;
why are the noisy larks hiding,
and melancholically sing?

I rushed here to release these tears
and let them roll from these eyes,
like raindrops falling on this very quiet place:
where tranquility is as eternal as Paradise...

I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone,
feeling a presence so known;
others before me have knelt and cried, 
not to forget whom they lost and dearly loved...

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |


To love your country,
you must commit yourself indefinetly;
there are no doubts, or fears
when it comes to defend it fervently..
do it for the sake of  your family,
or your countrymen who wish for peace!

They will send you to distant lands,
away from your loved ones...
to uphold freedom and its sanctity,
and you'll shine with bravery!

Anytime peace is threatened,
you'll retaliate and engage in combat,
true soldiers always fight with self-confidence,
never retreat in any circumstance!

There'll be days of fright , of darkness and despair,
and nights to shed tears on cold pillows;
no tender eyes to glance into or arms to embrace,
but  surrendering distorts your honor! 

As the mission comes to its end suddenly,
and you are one of the surviivors to declare victory,
although you'll also grieve for the fallen ones:
you'll wave your flag to the calmest skies!

To love your country,
you must avail yourself of dignity
and protect its borders vigilantly;
be aware of its tremendous cost:
risk your own life,or allow
the enemy to toast!  

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |

The Great Fish Maui Snared

Unto the north country basalt isle
 A great fish Maui snared:
And his brothers half-crazed behaving
 Leapt and gouged in frenzy craving.
From Palliser Bay to Cape Reinga
 (Departing place of the spirits),
From Egmont in the west to Mt Hikurangi
 Where dawn's light is first to see

Home where the far north narrows
 To the thousand year Kauri:
When whalers from her tall trunks vast
 Made well the finest spar and mast.
In those giant limbed canopied pillars
 Echo the sounds of the ages:
From coast to coast a native bounty each,
 Doubtless Bay to Ninety Mile Beach

The shallow Hokianga Harbour mouth
 Of coves and tawny sandhills:
Where navigators of old voyaged erstwhile,
 Hauraki Gulf and Great Barrier Isle.
Beech forests whisked by desert winds,
 Wilderness and eeling swamps:
The volcanic pumice flats that dormant lie
 And rocky molten fountains in the sky

Frontier home to pioneer settlements
 And Maori pa palisade posts:
Where the Coromandel twists and bends
 Channels long the Firth of Thames.
Down the foamy rapids of Huka Falls,
 A maelstrom of turquoise green:
By the smouldering cliffs at their sheerest,
 A thermal wonderland silica terrace

On yon trail where the mighty trio rise...
 Ruapehu, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe,
With their deep crater lakes and icy snow
 Spew ash and rock on plains below.
In Echo Lake cauldron or the Frying Pan,
 Venus baths and Champagne Pool:
Rotorua's hot sulphurous breath await
 In the muddy springs at Hell's Gate

The forested Urewera Highland wood
 On Lake Waikaremoana's shore:
Poverty Bay - where Captain Cook said...
 "There behold! Young Nick's Head".
Across the Kaimanawa Mountains west:
 Willow, Totara, Poplars, and Pines:
Into Lake Taupo the teeming water feeds
 Rainbow trout in the riverbed reeds

North Country isle of myth and legend:
 This living, breathing, shifting land.
Where the morning sun has its sky reared
 It wakes the great fish Maui snared.


May 1996

Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Is It Reality or Fantasy

I dream the same dream every night,
That I would awaken in the morning daylight,

Seeing a special delivery at my front door,
A beautiful shiny secret box held by a stunning man kneeling on the floor.

He would look into my eyes and say the words I have been waiting to hear,
That he loves me so much and with such sincerity he begins to tear.

He holds my favorite flower, a rose, as he begins to stand and look in my eyes,
I hear his promises of love,  faithfulness and I know it's all true, no lies.

I am so overcome with emotions that I keep hoping this is real and not in my head,
I keep praying that I am living this and not dreaming in my bed.

My breathe continues to be taken away as he hands me plane tickets and my heart skips a beat,
Suddenly my alarm clock goes off and I realize I feel my bed sheets under my feet.

It was all just a fantasy, the secret box, my favorite flower and plane tickets to my far away place,
But I keep hoping and praying one day I will find that beautiful handsome face.

Until that day, my dreams is what I will always hold dear,
Especially while I am waiting for my prince to appear.

Copyright © Debra Baviello | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |


Men were given total dominion
over all living things, and when
they subdued their enemy:
they were granted immortality!

Beside every great warrior of old, 
there was a strong woman of humility,
who gave him a victorious  sword;
and helped him change the course of history! 

Emperess Theodora was one of them to show adversity;
when Noka's revolt broke out:  she decided to stay,
while her hushand, Justinian, fled the city;
what an admirable act of feminity!

Beside every great warrior of old,
there seems to be a look of invincibility,
a defying moment to obtain glory;
and the cost for a golden crown is well-known!

Be the warrior of modern times, treatened by fear and fragility, 
seek out the man you were destined to be;
trust that woman who posseses internal beauty,
and beside this warrior, her courage will guide you with dignity!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

A Cold Winter's Night

On A cold winter's night, I look out from the comfort of my chair,

Thankful not to be out in that cold winter's air.....

As I hear the wind pounding, this I know,

I'm thankful I'm not out in all that snow.....

I take one more look, and now I think maybe,

I'll crawl into bed, and curl up with my baby!

Copyright © Steve Michael | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

A Walk in the Clouds

The day is met
The dream lost
windows sleeping cry
A  land where heros have died 
A bird swin pertch slips away
The sky plundered in air filled sighs
with a road of a blank notion in blaket of devotion
A time I spend here is natalicly splintit
A war to high too see
A night to cold for me
a walk in the clouds

Copyright © IAN SCHMIDTKA | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |

The forest of grief

The forest of grief:

At night I can hear the pain filled screams coming from the forest of grief. Longing, despair, and terror seeps in from the thick tree line into my bedroom window.

Their inhuman wails send chills down the nap of my neck rendering me unable to move. 

“What horrible events accrued inside this desolate place?”

No vegetation, growth, or life exist.
Only the suffering from distant pasts.
Time itself seems to be halted by the walls of the dense forest that shelter its ghostly inhabitants.

“Do they know death?
Do they know of the life they once led or can they even hear their own horror filled cries?

I do, I feel every heart breaking emotion as I lay in wait for dawn to break.”

There is no rest for them or me, the lonely women who tends the forest of grief.

Copyright © Whitney Hart | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |


 Africa! A land flowing with milk and honey.
Devoured by greed and the love for money
Where corruption thrives and war is a common place
Where will Africa show her true real face?                                          

Africa! The Land of lions and zebras
Where men are hunted down like fishes in rivers
Arise Africa! For your children are suffering
Cursed with a black skin 
Does this means I am nothing?
Africa today is like Africa yesterday
Good men like Nkrumah were never allowed to stay

Africa! I shed tears of blood for your children
A thousand years from now 
And they still know not their brethren

Africa! A land blessed with so many cultures
Where children are labeled witches
And eaten by vultures
Africa! When will you move at a faster pace?
So that you can take us all to that promised place

Africa! The home of voodoo and magic
Where technology is forgotten
Because nobody wants it
Africa! A land abandoned by youths and scholars
Where farmers leave their hoes in search of collars
Africa! A land of so many opportunities
With fertile soil and rock but still limited possibilities

Africa! A land filled with gold and oil
Where we languish in poverty 
Because we do not benefit from the soil

Africa! Where money is stolen from the people by the leaders
Where sadness is read in the newspapers by readers
Black ogres feeding fat on flesh and blood
Human beings desecrated without fear of God
When will Africa show her true real face?
And lift the curse of Ham on the entire black race

Africa! A land that tries to copy democracy 
But the only thing that is done is outright hypocrisy
Africa! the key to your redemption is not only violence
But we must bring the evil doers to their knees
Before we sentence them to silence
Bang! Bang! Bang! Machine gun fire none stop 
Come on Africa I shall lift your spirit up

Africa! One day the messiah will come 
He will rid us off these thieves and the very scum
Then your glory will shine like a big red sun
That is when I say Africa our work is done

Olusegun Akanbi

Copyright © Olusegun Akanbi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ballad |


Can you hear the distant echo of the 
as it pulses through the airwaves?  Yes, my friend it’s calling you.          
To this land beneath the Southern Cross, it welcomes one and all, 
and its drone spells out a message.  Can you hear its beckoning call? 
So come share our hospitality and shake an Aussie hand. 
Mate, enjoy a trip down under … share the culture of our land.      
It abounds with nat’ral beauty from its coasts to Uluru          
and you’ll share our nation’s freedom just like we have learnt to do. 
You’re invited friends to join us on a wond’rous holiday,                
where the sun, our surf and golden sands are yours in which to play.  
We’ve the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, The Reef and Kakadu         
and experience the magic of a Darwin sunset too. 
Can you hear the distant echo of the 
as it pulses through the airwaves?  Yes, my friend it’s calling you.          
To this land beneath the Southern Cross, it welcomes one and all, 
and its drone spells out a message.  Can you hear its beckoning call? 
Come and cuddle a Koala, feed our unique kangaroo, 
see our Emu and our wombat and our talking cockatoo.  
Boil a billy, bake a damper, share a campfire’s flick’ring light,  
in our vast Australian outback on a glorious star filled night. 
See the paintings and the craftwork of the aborigine 
and experience the stories of their dreamtime history. 
More than anything you do here or wherever you may roam 
we’d just like to say you’re welcome and please make yourself at home. 

Can you hear the distant echo of the haunting 
as it pulses through the airwaves?  Yes, my friend it’s calling you.          
To this land we call Australia, it welcomes one and all, 
and its drone spells out a message.  Can you hear its beckoning call? 

Copyright © Merv Webster | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ballad |

Kreta Natur, the Heart of Hersonnisos

The heart of Hersonnisos, the Isle of Crete
In a place so full of allure
Up on a hill, in the midst of the sea
Lies the heavenly Kreta Natur
The beautiful gardens, the flowers and trees
Rockeries made from stone
Views that will bring a tear to your eye
All give you the feeling of home
Side by side, Maria and George
Together they work as a team
So many years of labour and love
It’s taken to build their dream
Nurtured and tended by loving hands
Such relaxation you feel
When you arrive, the lovely warm smiles
And welcome they give you is real
Marias cooking, so lovely to taste
Her chicken, the best as of yet
BBQ night prepared by George 
Is one you will never forget
But…one thing is true, when your holiday’s done
And you know that its times to fly
Year after year you will always return
So it’s never really goodbye…

For George and Maria...amazing people and the perfect hosts
Thank you..

Copyright © Raina Hutchins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

The Ballad of the Dry Rest Stops

Their dad had had a heart attack 
since they had seen him last.
In May they said, "Let's visit him,
cuz time's a passing fast."

He doesn't drive, he sold his car
so he'll not come to us.
and we can take some time off work 
without a lot of fuss.

They lived in Utah, near that lake,
where faithful Mormons pray.
They planned to use the Interstate,
I-80, all the way.

Their pop had picked Nevada hills
where pines pushed out the sage,
to settle with his younger bride
and cuss the curse of age.

'Twas for the second week in may, 
the two had made their plans.
The day they left, the skies let go 
to fulfill God's demands.

The thunder crashed, the lightning flashed,
(a phrase perhaps quite trite) 
and yet by later afternoon
it seemed a lot like night.

The wipers flopped a steady beat;
their speed was set on high.
The rest-stop at the salt flats though
they found completely dry.

They never thought that strange at all,
just thankful for respite;
they took their time and took a pee,
then took the exit right.

They started up, turned on the lights
and then the wipers too,
for twenty seconds from that stop 
the rain began anew!

They never stopped in Wendover,
(a city in two states),
as still it rained like cats and dogs,
or maybe sheets and plates.

"Pull over at the next rest stop; 
I have a need to pee",
said Bob. They did, and once again,
'twas dry as it could be.

But shortly as they left that place 
the rain had turned to sleet,
and horizontal lightning strikes 
were scary, although neat.

Then at the peak the road was ice
it seemed three inches thick,
and both boys knew this drive would be 
most anything but quick.

Then at the next rest area
where they stopped for relief
the parking lot was smooth and dry 
and fair beyond belief!

They stood and stretched and grinned I guess,
as each of their jaws dropped.
Bizarrely, this continued on
at each and every stop.

In Reno, it was shirt-sleeve mild;
their pop was pleased as punch -
They visited and ate and drank,
and shot the shit a bunch.

"Now boys, don't take so long before 
you visit me again -
just let me know you're comin', and
and I'll control the rain."

© Lawrencealot, May 11, 2015

Copyright © Lawrence Eberhart | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

SHIPWRECKED for white contest et al


He was lost in white surprise
Of drugs and doctors quips
His mind was filled with flapping sails
Of white that guide the ships
To dance among the white capped rocks
In North white nights of June
Bring in the catch to catch the maid
Who’d be his wife so soon.

Wild hair so white it shamed the sheet
That soft caressed the grass
The grass-plagued daisies held her there
As clouds triumphant passed
In columns white the bossy clouds
Marched brisk across the sky
But none of them could match the spark
Of whiteness in her eye.

And then his shocked brain shifted
Jigged timed across his life
How many white nights had escaped?
The maid now was his wife!
Saw breasts so white that milk they gave
Seemed paltry in contrast--
To feed the babe that snuggled there--
The fruit of love surpassed.

Then shipwreck banged into his head
The white-flashed lightning zing--
He tested feet and moved his legs
Seemed he’d  survived this fling
Of nature’s whims again he’d live
 to tell the lusty tale
of how north winds had jumped from waves
to grab their ship's main sail.
Before the White Christ
Had emerged from his Semitic genes
The sailors would have cried for Thor 
To ease his hammerings.

Sailors lost were prices paid
To live in northern shores.
And, lost at sea was ever feared
By them, and wives adored.

He’d play a trick, they’d think him dead--
Would make a crafty tale!
By his hearth and in his bed
would sound a mourning wail.
His house would be a feast of black
Mad weeping would impress--
Then his imagination called her tears
He vowed each tear to bless

He smirked to think of their surprise
When he stalked through the door--

       An unsuccessful leap from bed—
                       He’d rest a little more.

And being man-- he pondered sex
And pleasures it would bring
There was no sizzling passion like                            
His lover’s offering.

Needle rudely poked-
Morphia drew him in
To dream the dreams of healing arms
       delightful prickles of his skin
       He found her far beyond his pain--Oh,  that smile that could disarm!
       In dreams , with wife, in languid bliss
         created white hot charm.


Winter wild of flurries
In ancient minds
Was a shelter
  From white fear

Wolves roved
  Stayed in packs
   Howled their presence
   Hating snow

Bears slept
 Hidden away
 Violence and terror
  Only a summer dream

White drifts
  Blazing blizzards
  Wrapped safety   
   Around fragile human life.

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |


Once upon a time, in a land far, far away— I met the person whom I shall love. It was summer season—in the month of May, when I found my dearest dove— my life; my beloved; my prized; my cherished with no name. In that land far, far away, surrounded by the seas, by the name of Puerto Prinsesa, we tasted the sweet scent of its breeze— I and my cherished with no name— as little seraphs of heaven sang in bliss. Stealing glances, that’s all we had in that land far, far away; and also in stealing glances, our tale has ended, as we witnessed ourselves falling away. The sun never rises without bringing me trances of my cherished with no name; the wind always whistles but I never had the chance to hear the voice of my cherished with no name; and so, my heart desires of revisiting our land far, far away— to bring me back to the scenes, to bring me back to my once upon a time that my yearning heart once has seen.
Author's Note: Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's Annabel Lee

Copyright © Ray Angelo Ong | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

Eric's Story

The yard of my home, the location of football games. Eric was a wuss. If he had the ball, stand in front of him he’d drop it. One time running for a pass. I couldn’t see him he was near, I could smell the Old Spice he wore. I heard a sound I turned around. I swallowed the spearmint I was sucking. Eric was on the ground with the ball. His arm had a lump he sat out a few plays. We told him “go home” let his mom know he was hurt he refused. If he went home, his mom would make him stay. Eventually, he rejoined the game. The next day, Eric came over with a cast on his arm. He had broken it in three places. Eric the wuss had played football with a broken arm. He was a man. No one called Eric a wuss again.

Copyright © Rob Carson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |


O mysterious sea...as light
as the eyes of my faithful sweet-heart,
inspire the distant soul
of this poet in distraught...
whose poem is still unfinished;
give him the rhythm and flow
to embellish his heart-felt verse
with sentiment and thoughtfulness!

Beyond the rolling waves,
ships carry secret lovers
who deride and defy their fate 
and set their souls on fire...
without feeling a need in dire,
or admitting an awful mistake!

O mysterious sea...
take their ship away
to a shore where nobody will see,
and let their fornication be 
as crude as the awakening
of everyone who's not afraid of indulging;   
I will take no part or joy
in their pleasure so openly and willingly! 

Could I forget that she ever existed, or
ever loved me with trust and sweetness?
Wouldn't it be unforgivable and wrong...
to waste what was blessed by holiness?
In this era of unfaithfulness,
many choose to do harm to someone else...
thinking only of self-gratification,
breaking the vows of dedication!

O mysterious sea as deep as the love
of my changeless woman,
who contemplates every sunset and dawn
with the purity of a dove:
let no beautiful eyes deceive me,
and sadly erase the innocence of her memory!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |


He keeps a very low profile,
afraid of the the horrible secret he hides;
hooked on a daily dosage of cocaine...
seeking an instant relief from his acute pain!
His cramped den is the stench
of smoked substance bought on drug-infested streets,
and filth is the undeniable evidence:
one can surely tell that he lives in Hell...
red devilish eyes and sunken cheeks; 
a wasted mind and body meeting their end!   

Restless young man without a name,
wary of the destructible consequences
that stunt your unremorseful conscience;
and what price will you pay and whom will you blame?
Restless young man without a name,
you only existed to fulfill a destiny of shame! 

Day-time is so detestable to him,
more than the viciousest enemy;
night-time changes his personality...  
and he searches for dope down-town,
where the houses are so run-down...
occupied by the crack-heads of East Main!
A limping kid, from nowhere, hands him
a small bag and he exchanges it for some green;
and what started the urge within...
is a deep wound, which can never heal! 

Restless young man without a name, 
intoxicated by the poison that destroys your life and health;
you can't be aware of what distorts your weak senses...
until you are helpless and run out of breath! 
Restless young man without a name,
guiltless and indulgent...you allow death to happily dance!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |


Being born in the postwar fifties,
after darkness and catastrophe
ascended on all Europe,
I didn't experience cruelty and horror... 
but hope came from the defenders of freedom
from North America and England;
and their military supremacy crushed
Hitler's vanity and his inhumane empire!
I was given birth by a courageous mother,
who saw bombs drop on buildings,
and escaped to the countryside with a few belongings...
dragging grandmother to safety!

Fear was everywhere...people had to hide,
and liberty was a forbidden cry;
even in the Vatican City, and rumors...
if not facts, confirmed that some
were afraid to speak against this evil,
but continued to tremble,
and in doing so they let many die!
Wasn't God angry at their hypocrisy;
and if they had taken a stand against the evildoers...
wouldn't it spared many?

It's my turn to protest the evil
that destroyed the life of big and small
for their faith, religion and race;
those voices are still ignored,
but  they are finally heard;  
their thirst for peace and justice
will be quickly quenched!
It's my turn to heal their wounds
with sweet and consoling words of kindness,
and alleviate their fears that what happened yesterday...
must not be repeated in our history;
and wil I be able to do this without facing controversy?
It's my turn to use the written word,
to outshine everyone whose interest is greed! 

Nobody more than I
was saddened by this tragedy,
so powerful and overwhelming,
to promptly modify the traits of my personality;
to be more considerate and caring,
and partake in Humankind's destiny!
An Aquarius has many
distinguishing qualities
and talents, and I intend to use them wisely...
listening to their struggles 
with much sympathy!
It's my turn to use the written word,
to declare war on the state of unfair things,
proceed with caution on flapping winds...
to land where I am welcomed,
and see every hand touching mine;
only when the their joy returns, I can certainly smile!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |


Have they ever asked themselves
what's the purpose of this life;
and why we are born of a mother
who leads us to a quiter shore?
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
questioning the diffidence of the eartly man!

Have they ever seen showers feed
the blossoms of a peach tree?...
Warm raindrops that Nature offers
to magnify the grandness of flowers!
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
seeing beauty when all ignore surprise!

Have they ever seen the majestic pine trees sway,
almost piercing the wandering clouds of color rose...
drifting towards the lustrous sunset of May;
can a strayed soul obtain redemption with deep-felt remorse?
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
 contemplating creation with the purest feeling! 

Have the ever stopped along the roads
swarmed with mimosa and jasmine and inhale
the fragrance of their tiny flowers,
being totally inhabriated by their smell?
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
thrilled by the natural state of the wild!
Have they ever seen those cities made of concrete,
where the errants struggle to breath,
and sunlight is as rare as an uninvited sunset;
there the church bells toll in extreme heat!
These are the thoughts of an innocent mind...
seeking,but not finding spirituality of any kind!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |

The birth of a star

This wall stands stronger
Stronger than any man
Yet so difficult
It was to defend

Completely out matched
Thunder came in the dark
But those on the wall
Put up one hell of a fight

The wall never ended
Nor was it straight
Yet inside those men
Had doom as fate
Those who are left
With nothing to lose
Immortally fight

As if death they choose
After days and nights
Sleep came to none
Fate had came
At the rise of the sun

Heroes are made
In this very spot
This place where our ancestors
So valiantly fought
And fight they did
Taking far more than given

Unstoppable sit the man
Who is cause driven
Surrender they could
Lives may have been spared
Where would we be today?
If our men had been scared
Heroes and legends
Were made at this spot

This spot where our ancestors
Oh, so valiantly fought

A tribute to those at the Alamo 

Copyright © Michael Harris | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |


In the limitless of me 
I caught a star 

I made my way , 
through the universe 
Another day 
Another constellation too 

I am a star catcher 
Stars, caught 
Stars, let go 
Such worlds I know 

Such stars, 
breathed their light over me 
Filled me with magic 
Let me see 

In the limitless of me 
Star catcher am I ! 
The colours flowed through, 
in a midnight sky 

The places I have been 
The places I have seen 
I want you to see... 
The catcher in me 

I can find you, 
for, you are a star 
Caught in me 
Colours too 

Through my universe 
Watching stars burn 
Watching stars shimmer 
Catching stars 
For, now it is your turn

Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |


Warm rain gushes from the bright sky,
to free all clouds of their heavy weight
and nourish everything below...
even the dry beak of a sparrow;
we didn't ask for it and yet
it came unexpectadly
to end our physical thirst...
another reminder of mercy!

The thirsty crows invade  
the drenched meadows,
once so dried-out and yellowed,
to resemble an arid desert;
water sustains life on this planet...
and allowes the low rivers to overflow
when winter can't bring any snow;
then...is all hope useless?

There'll be lots of  beautiful flowers this spring,
even those silent bells will joyfully ring;
a brighter sun will radiate... 
illuminating our path until evening:
so much joy in our singing,
a perfect time to meditate!

Warm rain gushes from the bright sky,
surprise sparkles in the unbeliever's eyes;
doubts make us unhappy and weak...
considering the dark side of things!
Vision makes us soar above the awesome stars, 
while despair causes our souls to die!   

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |


Great and weak men have existed
Sometimes their memories are bleak
Other times their memories live on
After the passing away of mortals
We only have memories left
Memories of their deeds
And the life they lived
Houses even cry when great men die
Inanimate objects often wear the toga of sadness when great men pass
There houses and places of abode weep too
The place of great men in the afterlife is great
Taking a glance at the wicked
They live wretchedly
And pass away like animals
People rejoice when they have gone
No one misses them 
The places where they once lived as homes 
Become desolate
Sometimes it becomes the abode of demented people
 Their descendants wear long drawn faces
For they immediately start reaping
What their fathers sowed
It is sad 
Very sad
Indeed sad
Weeping and wailing is so loud and great in their homes when they pass
For we know there is no peace for the wicked
Saith the Lord

Copyright © felix gbemudu | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

The Battle Field

The Battle field is ready for a messy day
Throats will be cut and blood will spray

Great feats will be achieved and a wonderful display
Of armies in mortal struggle, the fray

Giants, Demons, Angles and the like ready their blades
The battle drum beats then they rush the glade.

A master white stair case to heaven is the Demons goal
The General shuts his visor and leads his hoard through

Magic, Death, Music, Strength, and Weakness all happen
Only one makes it through the havoc….

His last sprint up the stair case a final task
At the top he unveils his metal mask

A young mans face with demon horns peers at the gates
In front of him guardians decide his fate

One question is all he has for them and the lord
Can I see my beloved from childhood from before?

The Demon kneels to show no threat before his grace
Then he sees her solemn sad little face

He didn’t move his great muscles as she approached him
Her actions were very simple…she bent over and kissed him

He then turned and walked down to the stair case
Threw his sword and spear then leapt from its base

He very well could have opened his great wings
He completed the only wish he had…. See the King!

Genevieve his angel

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2007

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Veterans Honored Everywhere

My daddy served till I was six.
A Navy man.  He loved his ship.

Rejecting Hero he would proclaim.
"Those who died should have that name."

Sailed many times across the waves.
Rescuing prisoners from cells as graves.

A Coxman warning of things to come.
That sound still echos to setting sun.

Blow the whistle as bugals blare!
Today Veterans shall be honored everywhere.


Copyright © MAF Longfellow | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |


He was with God before the world came to be,
and He created with Him our breath-taking Universe;
His name was Jesus,the Redeemer of the Human Race:
and to change and save us was His destiny...

He preached in the Temple, and all Jerusalem listened carefully,
but some didn't like to hear how He spoke against evil so openly;
and they weren't the Romans,the conquerors,
but those hypocrites in high places...

Jesus drew huge crowds by lakes and mountains,
by the country roads and in small towns;
they all came to hear the Gospel with gladness,
and Joseph was one of the priests who heeded those words...

On the lake of Genesaret, Jesus performed another miracle,
telling Peter to lower the net for a catch, but he was skeptical: 
until he saw the boat was about to sink with the heavy load,
and he came to realize the bounty of God... 

As Jesus became popular and all heard Him preach,
the priests and scribes became jealous of Him,
and planned to capture Him and found Him guilty of blasphemy:
by the very hands of Pontius Pilate who feared to condemn Him...  

But the crowd cried out, " Release Barabbas! ",
and those who called out the name, "Jesus,Jesus! "
were beaten and silenced by a mob who had no mercy;
Pontius Pilate had no choice but to deny His liberty...   

The Roman soldiers grabbed Jesus
and took Him to governor's place,
and they stripped and whipped Him 'till he bled;
and worst of all : a crown of thorns they put on His head... 

Along the Via Dolorosa Jesus carried the cross to His death 
as the women wept and men mocked Him with laughs,
never a commotion,so great, was felt in all Jerusalem;
a follower gave Him water, but he was restrained by swords...

The merciless soldiers placed the cross upon Jesus's shoulders,
and Simon from Cyrene finished bearing it behind Jesus;
he really felt the same pain and agony;
and from Jesus's smile, he knew He was relieved...

From the cross at Golgotha, Jesus asked His father
to forgive them as John stood by his mother;
to one of the evildoers He promised Paradise at no cost:
and to all who would believe and follow:  redemption by the cross....

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |

My Favorite Place

Gravel crunches underfoot
lavender blows softly through the trees
Bluebells sway to and fro marking the pathway
through which I go

Water flowing gently downstream
glistening in the midday sun
I escape the chaos of this busy day
to this sacred place where I can pray.

Copyright © Marie Roche | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |


Many wonderful voices are heard...
the brighest star is seen;
o joyful bells ring in glory!
In the blue Heavens....see
the angels proclaim God's Word;
this night is cold for those 
sheperds watching their restless sheep
on the Bethlehem's hills.

A shining angel startles them,
as he tells them...the Child
prophesied long ago, 
has born! And that star will lead 
them to the manger, where He
sleeps so calm and mellow;  
doesn't Mary know that Her baby
will soon save Humankind?

O joyful bells ring in glory!
Let every angel praise
the glorious birth of a Prince,
who'll be the Sheperd of many...
whose hearts have longed for real joy!
O sweet child sent from God,
you've come to redeem the sinful world!
O joyful bells ring in glory!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010