Ballad Family Poems | Ballad Poems About Family

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

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Details | Ballad |

A message from Emilly

A message from Emilly
By Angelo Casiano


A message from above to those of you I love.
I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Even more now that I’m gone.
And my love for you will grow and grow,
Like the chorus to a song.
I had to leave much sooner than
 I thought, I must admit.
But you know mom, until I’m done,
 I’m never gonna quit. 
I left behind some parts of me,
 I have so much to give.
Because of you I’m strong enough,
 to help some others live.
So Daddy when you think of me,
While you watch the Phillies play. 
I’ll be sitting next to you. I’ll be with you every day.
 You’ve given me the best of you.
And now I’m giving back.
I will love you for eternity. No matter were I’m at.

Copyright © Angelo Casiano | Year Posted 2014


Details | Ballad |

You may not be blood but your still family

You come over all the time 

We talk about everything 

And anything 

I know I can come to you 

With anything because you 

Will always understand 

We have a lot in common 

Some people ask why do you

Even talk to her

She don’t care about you 

At all 

I tell them 

They don’t know you like I do 

And they never will 

Because even though you’re not 

Blood you are still my family 

No matter what happens in 

Twenty years or even two weeks 

Down the road we will always be

Sisters for life 

And I happy that I can look at you 

And say I love you sis

Copyright © cortni basford | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Murder in Our Town

At Dalton town where I was born
in Ozark hills of home,
There lived a man named Leamon Brown
who plowed the rich, black loam.

His wife, a sweet and gentle soul,
did not foresee his bent,
she daily worked beside her man
who seemed to be content.

But in his heart a wrath appeared
to poison spirit's peace.
When reason left, his anger grew
and clawed to find release.

He stepped behind her where she sat
and bent to kiss her lips,
withdrew his blade and slit her throat
while blood streamed down her hips.

In panic's grip she fled the house
but stumbled soon and fell.
The children screamed in frozen shock
and dove straight into hell.

One son ran to his mother's side
and held her as she died.
His siblings hid from daddy's blade;
he stood there, glassy eyed.

As gossip spread like raging fire
of murder in our town,
the newsmen raced to pen details
as lawmen dragged him down.

His deed became the hottest news
to ever hit our town
The judge declared the man insane
this man named Leamon Brown

Now he is locked behind closed doors,
his wife lies in the ground.
Though we lament the children's fate,
his kids are sorrow bound.

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014


Details | Ballad |

remember

When the world is bitter and cruel
remember my love i will comfort you.
When your heart is broken and lost
remember my love i will find you no matter what the cost.
When you have lost the will to go on
remember my love i will be the rock you can stand upon.
When the worries of  your heart become too much to bare
remember my love i will always be there.
with hope in hand and i will always love you no matter the cost
remember my love you will never be lost.

Copyright © tina rossman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

The Ballad of Billy and Sue

        Our sentimental classics give us romances of old.    
        Please listen now as I recite the classic plot retold.

	The Ballad of Billy and Sue

        It all began some years ago
        before they'd even met.
        When Dad and Dad shook business hands,
        their destiny was set.

        Through school and college, each heard preached,
        "I'm growing tired and old.
        We welcome sharp young minds like yours
        with ideas fresh and bold."

        The years brought long, demanding days
        and signatures in pairs.
        They met, through work, the same success
        and matching joys and cares.

        For two to be so much alike
        Is really very rare.
        Their daddies said they fell in love
        before they were aware!

        Then all around--friends, family,
        associates--gushed, "Oh, yes!
        They truly are a perfect pair."
        They even pleased the press.

        And so the groom and blushing bride
        were soon to take their place.
        They went to church and said their vows
        in tux and virgin's lace.

        For kindred souls to separate
        would be a horrid blunder.
        What wealth and daddies' power have joined
        let not man put asunder!

entered in Brian Strand's Contest 240 (any topic or form, 38-line max) on
January 7, 2017

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

life in America

                           her heart is steaming with reason/  he got her body screaming 
with semen/ emotions she's feeling/ is making her/ weak to her knees man/ 
scary temptation is on/ he got a chrome to her dome/as she lays face down in 
the flow/ into her body he goes/ in the air waves/ she/  he/ screams/ curses/ and 
moans/  is it by some body she knows   part two  is coming

Copyright © MICHAEL MALONE | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad |

COLD TOMBSTONE

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 |

THE SLAVE GIRL

From fabrics torn, in ruin, she hail,
Above the deck, beneath the sail,
Above silent meadow, the sea,
Her frosty breath, in doom, she see.

Her fondness torn, her kids apart,
Though love follows her broken heart,
Her sorrow tears on rusted chains,
For holding children once again.

The howling steam erased skies,
And fright gallops the silent cries,
As faces pale in feeble grip,
And sea moaning the crowded ship.

The days are past, remedies none,
The burned down farms from firing sun,
They bent on knees for kids to feed,
Beneath the feet for coin, indeed.

Her husband dead from bones to sweat,
Hard labor earning, closing, debt,
She buried body, beneath the farm,
And begs for mercy, waiting harm.

The beats in rage far fierce than flame,
The bells were rung, with chains they came,
Her toes were trembling, wrath unfolds,
They tortured, beat and tied her, cold.

While taken heart and soul from kids,
The slave in chain with tearful lids,
They dragged and stripped in crowded street,
And brought with slaves to ship, the fleet.

Through cries unheard and night she sails,
With slaves in ship with fuming trails,
To hungers deep in scalding cold,
And chapped lip-lines numb, breaking hold.

Her skin was pale, the hunger tale,
As blue veins rose beneath her nails,
To fading night, her dim eyes sleep,
Her moon-light fades and die asleep.
©Anees Rahman

Copyright © Anees Rahman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

I'm Coming Home

He looks through the curtains as the meal is served

The sweat on his brow and the I.V. drips

Mom wears her apron with a picture of a turkey on it

It was her favorite and the music playing

And I'm coming home to where I'm loved

Father sits watching the game as the plate goes round

He had  money on the wrong side but he swigs a beer

Everyone seems happy and content so he knocks on the door

No one hears  and he stirs,trying to break free of the restraints

And I'm coming home to the warmth when I'm cold and alone

Where a man works and his wife cleans and raises the boys

Where desolation has no place to hide and no regret

And Mom hasn't begun drinking because her son left and will never come back

Where the geese still fly South to the warmth

Dogs bark and people have to stand to switch the channel

And I'm coming home

No cell phone or video games to gaze at and 24 hour news

The nurse brings a syringe and plunges it into my I. V.

The Angel wipes my soaking brow and gives me comfort

I'm alone with the mist and the murmur of the crickets

I'm coming home

The house is quiet and emptiness within

But Mom left a light on with expectation

A sign was set for all to know I'm coming

The quiet is lovely and the light welcomes

Home

Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

The land of my birth

I left you long ago for a place unknown
Every time I remember how it used to be
My heart is always flooded with memories

It was not always about the running water, electricity or the good roads
It was simply about the rich abiding love that people shared with others
If I did not show up at church, somebody stopped by to check that I was okay
If they did not turn up at a place, it was my duty to be certain that everything was alright

Neighbors were family friends not just people you waved to
Deeds were done not for a fee but out of love and that was the way we rolled
I became a mother for the first time in a strange land, I could not be more lonely
Husband had to go to school, I had no one to turn to

I called my Mama, thousands of miles in Africa, I wept and wept
All she could say was, "baby you can do it"  you go on and be blessed
It was tough, it was hard but I made it
If I did not know God in a personal way, I might have lost it

I miss you Oh land of my birth every now and then
The laughter, the pure joy, the unfailing love I shared with others
The help of others that was always at hand
Everyone looking for what they could give not what they could get 

Though you have your share of woes but you are still the land of my birth
Though you are still developing as a nation, you have qualities that can not be compared
I have found a home in this place, it is no longer strange
I have been blessed with a family and friends that do care

Copyright © TOYIN JOHN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

The Refugee

He crouches behind a false wall…hoping, praying, Listening carefully to the commotion outside. A knock on the door, another, two more! They kick the door in and storm inside. Men with rifles, boys with guns, Searching, preying, abducting, killing, They turn over the table and kick over a few chairs, As they search every nook and corner of the building. Finding nothing they eventually leave, He heaves a sigh of relief He looks at his wife, tears streaming down her face, They nod in agreement, it is time to leave. As night draws near, they sneak outside, Scanning the place for the infidels. He carries a rucksack, it’s all that they have, A few clothes, some photos and some medicine. She follows along, her son in her arms, They make their way to the sea shore; They stop in their tracks, their hearts skips a beat… A gunshot, another, two more! A man walks towards them, a gun in his hand, They kneel, he comes in a little closer; He asks where they are going, they don’t say a word The child starts crying, they think it’s all over. Then the man asks them to follow him, They stand up and do as they are told. He takes them to a place where there stands a boat, He takes all their money and asks them to get aboard. A few hours later, the silence breaks... A scream, another, two more! The boat is sinking they jump in the water, Their life-jackets barely keep them afloat. A woman beside them struggles to swim, He takes off his life-jacket and gives it to her, He asks his family to keep on swimming, He promises to meet them on the shore. Later that day she waits on the beach, A body washes up, another, two more! She cries as she hugs her dear little boy, He should be proud, his dad was a hero. They turn and start walking towards the city Refugees, aliens, total unknowns; Some strangers walk up to help them A new friend, another, two more.
-I wrote this poem based on the true stories of refugees, that have been highlighted on the Facebook page, "Humans Of New York". I want to dedicate this to all those going through the current refugee crisis. Our prayers are with you.

Copyright © Samuel John | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

TO LOVE YOUR COUNTRY

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 |

A Poetry Ballad

Ballad of the poet

When the moon kissed the sun, and light spread upon the earth. *hh*
Bright and early, 
early bird gets the worm.

With sullen time on stand by.... *DJ*"
Spurns emerald valleys that blur upon my new-found perch  *J.M.G*
While all nature wakes from slumber in timeless glory. *E.G*
Morning glory stroked by a ceremonious dandelion... whisper~   *K.D*

Bitter like morning breath.
Rooster crows, two songs, I share a note with him.
My cat rises to the sun of a new day.
Stretches into a c with her tongue curled and tail furled  *S.K.*
My coffee offers the sweetest taste after a goodbye kiss.
Clever and warm, I twinkle to the new morning light,
as I step outside, something pierced my heart..
~Wing broken, his bow in tow, arrows strewn, 
~No flight for thee, love lost, bent arrows I see,"  *R.M*
Everything I see, everything I feel around me.
Becomes a new song.
Born of many emotions.
I roll them on a paper without a pen. 
BUT!  In my mind they speak clearly to me~
Look into My eyes with your heart... and there you will find your soul  * R.A.D.*

"I hear an angel calling The beastly being within"   *R.S*
A new creation awaits beyond the path of dreams content,
Eros and Cupid both shoot through my heart."  *J.H.*
As the arrow's liquid enters my soul...    *RON*
Will that winged creature with the bow and arrows stop blinking his eyes?" *R.P*
He has stretched his wings too far this time.  *V.B.*
"His arrow of love is strumming my heart with golden grace.  *L.M*
A Halo'd smile upon my face.    * L.H*
Has suddenly turned to a grimace!   *G.S.*


(( feel free to add a line** in my comment box... ))

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Best Friend

I remember the very first time I saw you,
You wiped the sweat off your forehead,
I remember what all I use to say to you,
Followed my heart, I love you,
Maybe I needed to guard what I say,
Or express it in another way,
I hope I did you no harm,
Or is that what you call destiny,
Please know in your heart,
Eventhough how things played out,
My life and all its' worth,
Worth calling existing - living,
And without ever crossing paths,
My life would have been blah,
Words can not express how I feel about you,
Celebrate our love, if nothing more ever than be my best friend,
You are my very breath and hope of hearing from and possibly seeing you,
The very reason I make it through another day,
Our love we will celebrate far and away,
But in my heart, you are right here with me today,
I love you friend,
You make this world and all it contains worth living,
My heart smiles when it thinks of you,
I will somehow express my heart before I leave this earth,
So much I want to say,
I don't want to complicate things,
I just want you to be healthy, happy and carefree,
I know you love me,
You don't have to say it like I so often do,
I knew day one, 
When I became good friends to you!
I love you, boo!
I do!
Best of luck,
Live like you were dying!

Copyright © Jason Fisher | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

A letter to my sister

loving sister
I write to you as a writer
know you are in school
Because you are still a big fool
Your being wise
wholly lies
On your book
that you should keenly look
open every page sister
read every text sister
Get that wisdom
Embrace that wisdom.

sister write every word
paint every picture
for those words
that picture
pictures your future
so don't sleep
for you might slip.

it is now 7 months
in your form three
I check at my wrist
my watch is ticking
click by click
time is whiled away
sister use every chance
exploit every minute
for you are worth
living this earth.

I have to say
that day
u got the accident
I realized you are a light
to several hearts
embrace that and shine
For you are a true NDHINE
you are the MARVELOUS GRIFFINS
Realize your potential
for you are exponential....

come next year
I want to praise you dear
I want to hear the people calling out
I want to hear the world shout
I want to see your parents Marvel
For they gave birth to Marvelous Marvelous.
May you live long and shine bright like white.

Copyright © Griffins Ndhine | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

A Mother Like no Other

I have a mother like no other...
Never really understood her when i was younger...
To others she was always kind and giving...
Yet to her children she was mostly harsh and controlling...
I have always wanted to know why but never did...
And as i age i often felt like a lost kid...
Constantly searching for love and care...
Something i felt my own mother would not even bare...
Now that she has aged too...
It breaks my heart and makes me shed a tear or two...
To see her old and weary...
Crossed my mind to ask her finally...why mommy?
Then it suddenly dawned on me...i do not need an answer...
For all i have to do is look at her...
Hard and long enough, without any anger...
Think of all the people she kept under her wings...
And be thankful of how they took off and soared...
Because of all the love my mother could afford...
I figured if she has saved a life at our expense...
Then....everything makes sense...

Copyright © Eliza Dimagiba | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Ballad of Trinidad

 Remember when days were long
   and all de children do is play:
 or how de burnin sun hot like fire
   and snow cone ice melt away,
 when I was a wee lad in Trinidad

 And licks fuh so in de bam bam
   if I do or say I right when I wrong!
 Playin cricket in de front yard
   in ragged shirt and watchicong,
 wit my bat and pad in Trinidad

 Hear de dogs of Independence,
  "masser's day has come" dey bark,
 and snarl "now we in charge!"
   But all dey do is fete and skylark,
 dats why tings bad in Trinidad

 Den me faddah "really speakin"...
   and me muddah, how she grieve:
"aye yah yie, it time to vamoose...
   oh crime...it time to leave",
 dat all hell gone mad in Trinidad

 I say to she "yuh makin joke!
   Mummy, what is dis tomfoolery?"
 Man, next ting I know I on a boat
   past de Bocas headin out to sea,
 and I was sad to leave Trinidad

 Dey get vex and riot in de street,
   trow stick, pelt stone, and cuss;
 shout "Black Power...Malcolm X..."
   PNM say "why all yuh makin fuss?"
 But tings get real bad in Trinidad

 Trinis start to swell up dey face
   and ax demself "is all yuh fuh real?"
 Criminals was skinnin dey teet
   burnin and lootin lookin to steal -
 destroyin what we had in Trinidad

 But I would from my exile return
   de land of rapso, kaiso, and calypso!
 Where de panman play, "padna"
   and de Cahneeval jumpin fuh so,
 den I was glad to see Trinidad

 Back to limin on sandy beach
   wit buss-up and shark 'n bake...
 drinkin rum, Carib, and Stag spyin
   all de girls backside shake!
 Girls sweet too bad in Trinidad

 If yuh see party fuh so in East
   or fete in de village dong Sout;
 and Jouvay dawn at Pelican Inn
   till Road March jump and shout,
 dis is de lime I had in Trinidad

 Me faddah, he like de ole talk,
   de ghost of Jumbie Bridge in he head.
"Murder!" He laugh at all dem Trinis
   and how dey all "fraid de dead!"
 in Big Bertha clad from Trinidad

 He tink of tings back home like
   when de plum and de mango ripe;
"jeez-an-wrinkles!" He bol face say
   how "crapo smoke yuh pipe!"
 God bless my dad from Trinidad

 Man, he steups so and he say "boy,
   Trinidad full of ba'john and ole tief!
 Riddled wit crime and corruption...
   warahouns in charge, good grief!"
 And for all dis I sad for Trinidad

 Me muddah too, she say to me
  "hold strain and calm yuhself chile!"
 She say "son, doh be a saga boy,
   doh flash and doh make style"
 lest you be a cad from Trinidad

 Man, de whole place gone to hell
   and dey doh know how to fix she;
 all de younger generation fuhget 
   what it mean to be a Trini -
 to be proud and glad in Trinidad

 Now dey pull out cutlass and gun
   if on dey tail yuh lash out and cuff!
 Man, dese days no-one safe at all,
   Trins fed-up and had enough!
 How tings get so mad in Trinidad

 All yuh in T 'n T so blasted vex
   at de government and Manning,
 but in trute yuh still like to fete
   and drink and lime and ting,
 den bawl bobbol bad in Trinidad

 It jus like back in de Canboulay
   when de lawless slaves run wild,
 or in de dark days of rebellion
   and uprisin when I was a child,
 when tings went rad in Trinidad

 A pelau or buljol in yuh mout -
   sorrel, mauby, or a ginger beers;
 gimme pastelle and ponchecrema 
   from Christmas to Ole Years!
 Dis is de taste I had of Trinidad

 De Spanish come, de French too -
   boy, de British dey bring a queen:
 dat was way back when dis island
   was de jewel of de Caribbean,
 way before I was a lad in Trinidad


                ------------


              January 2009



              
 
             

Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

My Family

My Family is very important to me
We are all united
We all love each other
Being together just makes us so excited

Now I'm going to tell you about my mom
She loves us all
She is always so calm
She does so much for us

Next up is my dad
He always tries to be so funny
But his jokes are so bad
It's really quite sad

Last is my brother
He really likes to dance
He's really like no other
Being silly is really his thing

Copyright © Hannah Stockwell | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Two souls

Soul with soul in the light of the candles said
One was open and gentle, the second... like talking...
Only grey, only ignorance, bursts of anger....
"Forgive me... the first said, if I blew it...
His love... and even unwittingly...
But what could hurt, I don't understand...
-Yes no-same... everything is fine... I love you too... I'm just sad...
And candle light only reflected her sorrow, in her warmth as if they were shaking...
Meanwhile there was a dark cloud of anger...
He understood that there is no love... not understand what...
What he did not, for fear of offending...
But, unfortunately, we are blind, when we love much... can't see...
Haven't seen it warmly giving his that she doesn't need heat... it burns...
Her cold, January was looking for cold
And he with his warmth... he's a piece of ice to snow... young... he was not needed...
Tossed between heaven and earth...
The wind white
And the winter cold... the February Blizzard...
And he fired her... frost... 
And I thought that love burns...
How often do we more desire accept...
Chalk the wind, and he warmth of his just killed her, trying to melt the snowflakes
Not realizing that in the heat, cold, soft snow only became... in the piece...
But his soul did not cool down... and Blizzard tried to Shine, to dispel the darkness...
And only killed...
Left in a snowstorm second... and didn't finish... and anger is not dissipated... the drifts between them...
Left second... never ottaw... and icicles on eyelashes only leaving him...
And soul freezing solid, hard crust... she breaks down... with the soul breaks down... and hurt... hurt... hurt...
And ice on eyelashes is melted... tears... flowing into a wound on the soul and expanding the wounds...

Soul with soul in the light of the candles said
One was open and gentle... then... killed...
06.01.15 AKC
© Copyright: Konstantin Achapowski, 2014
The certificate of publication No. 115010602425

Copyright © Konstantin Achapovskiy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Broken Seashell

Lisa Milligan
A Fragment Of Life
8/21/06 

"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."  


Don’t hurt your daughter
She needs your pride
Don’t hurt your sister
She breaks inside
She feels surrounded by enemies
Please don’t hurt the girl
That girl is me

She left you long ago
Packed up and ran
Ran away from all the pain
She didn’t understand
It didn’t take her very long
When she had to come back
To see all the reasons why
She took that track

She sits there smiling
She’s afraid inside
Of the next hurt inflicted
That she’ll have to hide
She has to be here
Because of her baby son
She has no husband
As for her son's parents
She’s the only one

Don’t hurt your daughter
She needs your pride
Don’t hurt your sister
She breaks inside
She feels surrounded by enemies
Please don’t hurt the girl
That girl is me

You sit and gossip that
She won’t come around
Judgment and criticism
Is all she’s found
She fights the invisible hands
Forcing her to the floor
She fights the instincts of survival
To run out the door

You don’t see her clearly
Looking through your clouds
Looking at the wrong things
Like her bank account
Looking for what she should change
Not what she’s done
Not at the strong, healthy man
Her son has become

Don’t hurt your daughter
She needs your pride
Don’t hurt your sister
She breaks inside
She feels surrounded by enemies
Please don’t hurt the girl
That girl is me

She notices wistfully
The pride in her parents eyes
As they behold the families
In which they have pride
The look that vanishes
As they turn her way
The pride that disappears
And then her heart frays

Broken shells get left behind
Scattered all over the sand
Perfect shells get taken home
Precious treasures in the hand

Copyright © Lisa Milligan | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |

Star-Gazed Nostalgia

Lets climb up that old tree, 
make the clouds disappear. 
Let’s climb up that old, lemon colored tree, 
make the rain clouds disappear.

Rough wood, and a rickety ladder,
White christmas lights trim the slumping roof
over a few branches 
and we're crawling-
through the doors 
of a star-gazing tree house
 full of nostalgia. 

Sounds of traffic, cross walk conversations 
Trotting past that old jazz bar, 
a mexican family arguing on the stoops, 
funny how an unknown language 
can still make sense on the inside.
the mother gestures her son upstairs to sleep, 

But my world’s only waking. 
There’s a party up ahead. 
and there’s something ‘bout the nights’ breeze
blowing off the cars and into the trees. 
its Got my heart singing about this new love I’ve found.

Copyright © Katelyn Dobbs | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

I Learned to Walk

I learned to walk when you were beside me
But I learned to cry all on my own
I learned to talk with you there to guide me
And I practiced when I was alone

I learned to laugh when Daddy was funny
And to smile when I felt all your love
I learned to play when outside was sunny
Watching the clouds and the birds move above

I learned to steal when my siblings showed me
And to lie when I learned of time-out
I learned to apologize whenever you told me
When to whisper and when, if ever, to shout

I learned of God every week when you took me
And to write when I went to school
I only found God when I myself went searching
Finding much of the world to be cruel

I learned that falling down happens often
But that I can't be afraid to ask for aid
I learned that others can easily soften
The blows of a swift piercing blade

I learned to walk when you were beside me
I walk every day as if you still are
Remembering all the lessons you've taught me
Knowing you're the reason I've come this far

Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballad |

With This New Day

I have lived, 
And felt the cost, 
Paid my dues, 
But I have lost_ You. 


 Still I pray, 
As chaos looms, 
And as my blue turns into grey, 
I hear__ 
The angels sing- In tune. 

 Don't be giving in, 
Don't give up my son, 
Or fade away, 
Lift your chin with the sun__ And rise, 
With this new day!. 

 I have lived, 
And felt the cost of all my wonderin ways, 
I've paid my dues, 
I - Have lost you. 


 I can hear the angels sing, 
Your in a mistaken land__ Lessons learned in truth, 
As the grey seeks out the blue, 
She will__ Your daughter my son--- 
She will return--- To You.

For I have lived, 
Felt the cost of all my walkin days, 
I've paid my dues, 
I- Lost you....


I wont be giving in, 
Won't give up my girl, 
Or fade away, 
I'll lift my chin with the sun--- 
And RISE-- 
With this new day...

Copyright © Ryan Harris | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Surviving Your Own Life

My father and I did not share all that much,
More like passing a truck on the road
Parent’s squabbles I overheard offered me clues
And at times I caught glimpse of his load.

His freight always sealed with a padlock in back,
Any breakdowns he kept to himself,
His frustrations were private, his eye on the road,
His deliveries always top shelf!

His company’s rules left my Mom on the bench,
He in truth, perhaps liked it that way,
For it left her in charge of all family chores,
His great weakness was children at play!

Long hours of hard driving he’d learned from his dad,
His attempts to steer children went flat,
And his road map to family fuzzy at best
Little Grace for him, tit for his tat.

My mom had unknowingly married success,
So her tears rarely bought her a break,
Childhood poverty left (like a tread in the dust)
Her true voice was the sound rivers make.

Though truthfully she trucked a lot of the load
That my dad sometimes took credit for,
Supple reed that could bend so that he didn’t snap,
Her support for him not metaphor.

Her leaving him really was stuff of my dreams
Thought occurred though she might leave me too
Still I fantasied she’d find more happiness then
A true blessing from child’s point of view.

My sister experienced similar pain,
For my father’s rules always came first
But the bonds she and I formed helped both of us feel
Being male didn’t have to mean cursed.

There’s mystery still in just how we survived,
But maturity opened new doors
As we learned how to dance to songs Dad couldn’t hear,
In between and in spite of our chores.

If favor and love seemed in quite short supply
When he traveled then freedom was ours,
For when chores were done Dad’s control died on the vine
And we lived for these magical hours.

My books, rockets, music, and R/C airplanes
Did a lot to help fill in the holes,
I found mentors who lovingly showed me their world
Now my wizards of alternate roles.

My dad never once said “I’m proud of you son!”,
Didn’t want me to get a “big head,”
Good grades simply expected as if they were chore,
Consequences of failure unsaid.

Our family’s glue always duty not love,
I am sure this is how he was raised,
The worst beating I got? I forgot to mow lawn!
Mom and Sister took off, Dad was crazed.

Mom’s tears just ignored, how predictable that,
Torn to shreds was my trust in her love!
But if Mom’s love was flawed, did Dad’s even exist?
God himself dead in heaven above!

Yes, that was the day that I learned how to hate,
Dad’s needs and his goals? “Go to hell!”
It was day he lost heir, that my family died,
And the day I disowned him as well.

Though I was a boy perhaps nine years of age
My eyes only “looked out” after that,
For his business, his life, now meant nothing to me
With the world he built smelling like scat!

Child’s error that I thought my dad had no pride,
Just because it was not shown to me
In rebellion youth often believes he’s escaped
But just Grace has the power to free.

Rebellion itself means you’re likely enslaved
If you’re not him where’s freedom of choice
After all, even broken clock’s right twice a day
How can this be an authentic voice?

The fact you find value in some other path
Doesn’t mean he is totally wrong.
And the fact on occasion he grievously erred
Doesn’t mean yours is far better song!

Spent much of my adult life not being Dad
Always viewed overtime with disdain
Nothing ever should mitigate family time,
Lived in fear I might cause my wife pain.

Mom’s misery made kids think Dad was to blame
She, an artist, faced demons alone,
With Dad’s focus aloof to the needs she expressed,
And yet later she bloomed on her own.

The marriage that I feared was destined to hell
Wound up bringing our parents some grace.
For our mom, not becoming a business savant,
Saw her art bring a smile to Dad’s face.

Deciding to search for new truth on my own
College Science seemed like my best bet.
An approach to what’s right with no feelings involved,
As I dreamed of my lost safety net.

On joining the Peace Corps in college third year
I felt sure I’d meet Damocles sword,
But Dad gave not a caution and when I returned
My two-year diversion ignored.

When Vietnam War came I tested 1-Y
For I’d put my right hand through glass door,
When I finished my Masters joined Peace Corps again,
Seemed I’d whetted an urge to explore.

My life’s greatest irony came when Dad died
Turned out my life was what he had dreamed,
At his grave his best friend shared his pride in his son,
With one word his existence redeemed.

My marriages, job paths, won’t tell you much more,
Though my upbringing brought gain and loss,
I’ve found pain a good teacher and ditto mistake,
Life works best when “buck stops with the boss!”

For me Science showed itself lacking in warmth
And relationships came to the fore,
Now the give and take found in emotional life
Is my joy every morning and more!

Brian Johnston
September 4, 2016

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

THE BALLAD OF A SHATTERED, LAMINATED, HOME

I remember living in one room dingy and dire 
with old lino on its rotting wooden floor. 
I remember crystallised spit dangling from guard at the fire; 
as mother cleaned, he'd only honk the more.  

I recall how we went hungry, waiting for the paltry sum 
he allowed us for board and keep, the cheap fink, 
and how he served apprenticeship to becoming a true bum 
by treating as priorities his fags and drink.  

I remember all the rows he caused demanding back the cash 
which was supposed to feed and clothe his we’ans
I remember every Christmas morn' the gifts received were trash 
because he'd pissed the present-money down the drain.  

I recall one awful night my mother hunting high and low 
with a hungry bedraggled child on either hand, 
she finally catching that boozy stinker sate in the Dungloe. 
How he fumed, outraged that food she dared demand.  

I remember his begrudgement of those sparse few days away– 
one hour upon the beach or at the fair: 
how just when we were relaxing would be dragged from play. 
Homeward-bound: him the ‘bookies', us despair.  

I remember trudging up to Creggan to the ‘Housing Place' 
every week with mother and sister, come rain or hail, 
and how that worthless, selfish, monster did not even have the grace 
to commend her dedication, instead railed.  

I can picture his expression when she got herself a job, 
determined not to lose her new clean home. 
I remember his wild tantrums when she'd saved up for a hob– 
the delivery man was perplexed at oral foam.  

I remember those miserable times as if they were today, 
how he made odd help with homework living hell– 
so that now a friend's assistance, however gracefully 
put, grates my tortured psyche so much I cannot tell.  

When we started working, my sister dear and I, 
it seemed for him a licence to give less. 
Many weeks he'd keep house-money and, as the months went by, 
we discovered he'd drunk the rent; that was a mess.  

So now sot has retired, and it seems his mind has gone– 
for he's telling all how great he was those years: 
he built house on the prairie. He was such a con: 
the only thing he constructed was a legacy of fear.


Copyright © Perry McDaid | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Family First

I cant believe Im going to have my own family, something I never had; 
Its time to step up and be a real dad; 
Now I can remember the things that make me happy and forget the things that make me sad;
 Its time that I start doing good than the bad; 
I want for my child to see me as a role model; 
Its time I break my own chains to that alcoholic bottle; 
I want to be that someone who can be trusted to follow; 
I silently cry at night because the truth is hard to swallow; 
I jus hope I can make that change today not tomorrow; 
I got to change before I end up in an?early hearst; 
My art is my gift and alcohol is my curse, I must break my own alcoholic thirst;
 I must relieve my own selfishness tendencies before they burst; 
I got to stop making alcohol my only because its no longer just about me, because my very own family comes first

Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

PAPER CLIP SOLILOQUY

      Oh Paper Clip, Dear Paper Clip
      let me always sing your praises!

      You keep my pages held tight
      without the violence of stapling
      and yet your grip is so gentle as
      to release a sheet without a blemish.

      When the project in your care concludes
      you go back into the desk desk drawer
      with nary a complaint or a quibble
      and fall back into the stiff routine
      of anticipating the next chance
      to make yourself useful.

      You are so loyal and understanding
      that even when I ask you to be
      a hanger of christmas ornaments
      you immediately bend to the task.

      You don't even mind
      when I straighten you out
      and use you like a toothpick.

      You remain the consummate aide
      through both thick reams and thin.

      You have won my heart
      you little metallic angel
      and if Mother approves
      I have every intention
      of making you an honest binder.

Copyright © Roy Batts | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

country pride

My country pride runs deep within,
some understand it, others don't want to.
A rebel flag, a Dale Earnhardt shirt, and a cold one
at the end of the day.
That is country..
Ridin on your pappy's tractor
while on his knee as he chewed tobacco
and told stories of the war.
Grammy's in the kitchen bakin pies and making lemonade.
That is country..
A nascar race in Charlotte,
a hunting season with buddies that followed you
into the army.
A moonshine til or your first date
in daddy's car with your high school sweetheart.
Catchin fireflies in a jar and rockin on the back porch
listenin to grand pappy's stories of when he was young.
And alwazys rememberin where you are from.
That is country...

Copyright © susie penrod | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |

Ode to my Village

When I stand on the Hills and stare down,
while milky sunbeams shine asound,
I admire the grace with which spreads
my Village, its glories and innocence.

Oh my Village! that valley wherein I first kicked,
That place where I first experienced my birth,
That Paradise where the birds play and cling
While happy children cuddle and sing.

That Valley wherein I ate Irish Potatoes
Drank sweet palm wine and ran wild,
Where I savoured sweet achu,
hunted rat mole. Oh! life so pure!

Oh, my sweet grandmother and father!
They raised me to love this sweet land.
They told me one morning as I stretched-
"Mowi, yu'u, there is no better place than home."

Now I understand while I behold the radiance,
The opulence of this village Politicians want to steal,
Politicians and leaders so neglect-
But I say to them, "you are wicked, wicked!"

"If there is a place that is home to me,
Where I will love to grow and make square,
Where I'll love to hug and bless
It is my village Bamendankwe."

Copyright © Gerald Nforche | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Life is like a maypole

Life is you and me

holding hands

while the earth go's around 

each of us you see.

life is like a maypole

if we are strong at heart

with family or friends

we always stick together 

until the very end.

life is like a maypole

a simple smile will do

to get each of us through.

life is you and me

no matter what your problem is

don't let go,

just go with God flow-- because

life is like a maypole

Copyright © SHARLOTTE NEWAN | Year Posted 2015