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Ballad Mystery Poems | Ballad Poems About Mystery

These Ballad Mystery poems are examples of Ballad poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Ballad Mystery 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 |

Dullahan Rides

Walk with me in the dank moonlight
through the chill, rising, storm
so we can grasp the majesty
of Dullahan still born.

Without heads his horse and he ride
across the countryside
His head in hand they roam the land
none live where he abides.

A rush of blood, a gory spree 
will take the sight of man, 
then off they gallop wild and free
Dullahan, head in hand.

Here’s hoping he don’t call your name
for that would be worse by far  
your soul would flee and fly with he
a soul as black as tar.

Carry your gold for I am told 
this alone does he fear
and we can watch as he rides by
come give us a kiss now, me dear.

The winsome lass took his strong hand
and down the lane they walked
as in the distance hedgerows fired
and hooves clapped as they talked.

The sound drew near, a gate flew wide
the lassie shrieked and ran 
so only her randy lad was 
taken by Dullahan.

So, don’t think to woo by moonlight
near the shore in Galway
Dullahan hunts with cruel sight 
each wayward soul a stray.

*While no-one knows for certain how the Dullahan originated, it is thought that he is the embodiment of the Celtic fertility god, Crom Dubh, who was worshiped by an ancient king of Ireland, Tighermas. Each year, Tighermas sacrificed humans to Crom Dubh, and the usual method was decapitation. The worship of Crom Dubh ended in the sixth century, when Christianity came to Ireland. 
* music in About the Poem

Poet: D. Guzzi

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |

Castle By The Sea

There stands a desolate castle on England's venerable shore,
That once sheltered a royal line that ruled its sprawling realm.
Now, according to local lore, eerie things are seen and heard,
In that castle by the sea, in that haunted castle by the sea!

On blustery nights a spectral sentry is seen pacing its towers.
Clad in mail, armed with lance, he's heard to herald the hours.
His disembodied voice is heard e'en o'er the raging storm,
Atop that castle by the sea, atop that haunted castle by the sea!

On stormy nights as thunder crashes and the savage gale shrieks,
Lightning illumes a princess wraith, tears coursing down her cheeks,
As she waves to her handsome prince who goes forth into battle,
In that castle by the sea, in that haunted castle by the sea!

On moonlit nights a phantom hearse drawn by six ebon steeds,
Trailed by ghostly figures intoning haunting dirges is often seen.
As drifting clouds overshadow the moon, it fades from view,
Nigh that castle by the sea, nigh that haunted castle by the sea!

If only those barren, lichen covered walls could only speak,
But, alas, they now stand forlorn, eternally mute and bleak.
The haunting secrets they might reveal are forever buried,
In that castle by the sea, in that haunted castle by the sea!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Honorable Mention in Debbie Guzzi's "Jack OUT Of The Box" Contest - Jun 2011

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |


 In a world of desire,
Beauty is often confused,
with physical appearances......
Yet, what is real beauty?
Beauty reflects one's tender heart,
One's sweetness and gentleness,
It's the beauty of one's soul.....
And if carefully examined,
Can be found in all.......

Beauty seeks expression,
And leaves a lasting impression,
Through such things as kindness, compassion and service,
And leaves such reverence,
And love for all humanity,
And all the world's creatures......

Beauty is the souls true essence,
Which has the most beautiful fragrance,
It's expressed in a piece of music,
Or a noble pursuit....
Its core is tenderness,
Which enhances togetherness,
Which brings humanity together,
And lasts forever....

Beauty is in the dew drop,
And the summer breeze,
In a Mother's caress,
And I must confess,
If one looks hard enough,
Can be found in even the most flawed person.....

If we look for only the beauty,
In all people and life,
We will see that it is always reflected back to us,
In life's beautiful song,
To which we all belong.

Copyright © Lynette Beck Fekete | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

When I Stopped That Day To Pick Death's Rose

I heard a little rumor from
a stranger on the road today;
he wore a heavy veil of dusk
to keep the winter's song at bay.

His face was well concealed; although,
his shriveled hands had drawn my sight;
it seemed like they were withering
and, like the moon, a pallid white.

"A little further down this road,
there lies a curse'd patch of grass
obscured by trees to hide its shame;
for that, I know I am to blame.

The flow of time had left that place,
yet still the living wandered in,
until they saw that wicked plant
whose very growth was deemed a sin."

The frigid notes were ominous,
like most of what the old man said,
and quickly did his coal-coat flee
to leave but silence in his stead.

A trav'ler's prank is what I thought,
but further down the road I saw
an isolated trust of trees
with polished trunks and lively leaves.

Surveying past the tow'ring brown,
I stood in awe at Gaia's gate;
if anything, I had to know
how nature could intimidate.

The grass was like an emerald floor,
a regal rug for royalty,
and aromatic jewels stood proud
amongst the scattered shrubbery.

But then, I sensed a mournful soul
and heard a fright'ning tearful call;
at center grew a single rose,
left weeping within wooden walls.

Its petals were like chimney soot,
but had the most enchanting smell;
its stem and leaves were silver clad,
a gorgeous blossom spawned from hell.

Despite the omens I had heard,
there was a certain beauty here.
If such a flower bred disgust,
I'd shelter it, neglecting fear.

There was no trace of bitter cold,
upon return from curse'd land.
I left that world with fragrant sin
clutched tightly in my mortal hand.

My heart gave forth compassion,
when I stopped that day to pick death's rose.

Copyright © Michael Perriatt | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |


The throne of babylon is falling
their gold is melting  can you hear them bawling
fire is burning hot as hell
some can neither buy nor sell

the mark in their hand they do not dread
half of them have it in their head
the beast they worship is the evil one
his armies gather at armageddon

its all in the bible and shall come to pass
the world awaits the nuclear blast
the throne of babylon is falling
their skin is melting they keep on bawling

 Will they rue what they've sown, before this last reaping
tears drip from their souls as children lay weeping
His full wrath was poured out, the judgement had come
a new world was birthing, the mystery was done

Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |


Silently the moon rose 
from, it seemed 
The Whispering Trees 
This, I dreamed 

When all is dark and silent 
A Heartstone Moon shall rise 
It's soft light illuminating 
All you meant 

So many things change 
Never a Heartstone Moon 
New seasons to arrange 
Queens, coming soon 

Such mysterious light 
Filled a castle with wonder and delight 
So close, it seemed 
Such a beautiful thing 
Can only be a dream 

Only an Eastern pink sky, 
can fade a moon 
So perfect 
Long, will it lie 
In your heart 

A Heartstone Moon 
Gathered her stars 
Let them play 
Above, a castle 
That will see the dawn soon 

A moon is for dreams 
Stars for love 
This is why... 
Or so it seems 
A starlit sky 
Castle below 
A Heartstone Moon, 

Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |

Penetrating Portals

Your eyes arrive on me
like the whips of passion's urgency
wide with white smite encasing eons inflamed in irises,
I feel the tight temperature of they're heated hue, my lust crises rises,
brown autumn burning into ravenous red, seduction's takeover fast overhead,
you've got an angel in one eye, a devil in the other, teammates, temptation led
trouble in your stare and glory in your glare, there's a gamble on your lips
I get an adrenaline hit, I see the misfit, magic in those lids
beauty and banditry bound to fantasy,
hips and slits favoring me,
brash brows and lapping lashes
portals pivoting on our cunning chances,
flawless in flirt, a merciless miracle of attraction,
there's somethin lawless in you woman
got me comin for your lovin -


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Haggis and Drinks Mi Luve (Mythology)

Let’s hve haggis and drinks mi luve
Find de bes ina de ole land 
Lay yu head on mi chest mi luve
Whilst wi dance musik wid de band

Dance wid de band in de Highlands
Backyard jig good fer de ole soul
Tickle mi nose with yu gold locks
Tigether wi bade ead to toe’s sole

Call Fionn mi Luve with his jug
Nice poems he read at de gate
Summon the Clooties with a mug
Aye, they will cum and bles dis date

We’ll sail de river on Loch Ness
Kelpies will protect our flanks
Goddess Scotia says we bless
Oh mi chamin' sweet Sidhe, tanks

Aye! Mi sweet luve; Boobrie will fly
He will fetch up the Salmon Ring
And a knot cross de land we tye
Red Caps our guard til cum de spring

Then wid haggis and drinks mi luve
Goddesses'pipes blow dem great songs
In the grey mist we skip and dance
Then like Boobrie we fly with doves

Scottish Mythical Legends:

1. Fionn is a Scottish magician, warrior and poet
2. Clootie is a Scottish name for the devil.  The name originated from the word cloot, which  
    mean a division in the cleft hoof of an animal.
3. Kelpie is a Scottish water devil who lurks in lakes and rivers and drowns its victims.
4. Scotia is a goddess normally portrayed as an old hag with the tusks of a wild boar
5. Sidhe (Shee) is the Gaelic name for fairies in the Highlands of Scotland and also Ireland. 
6. Boodrie is a wonderful water-bird from the Highlands.  It haunts and protects the lakes  
    and wells.
7. Red Cap is a sort of short, stocky old guy with long gray hair and claws instead of hands 
    and fingers. He lives on the Scottish border and guard the ancient ruins of castles

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ballad |

When I Sleep

Of all things, it is happiness and fear
Both of these are strongly sincere
Either a laugh or cold tears shed
That's when the pain develops in my head.

I think of you and your handsome smell
Lucky for me, I remember it well
I grasp my pillow ever so tightly
And begin to fall asleep ever so slightly.

I begin to dream of your powerful touch
I can only hope you think of me a fraction as much
But then I wake and realize you were never real
And then I think, am I faking what I feel?

Are you turning into a figment of my imagination
With multiples or just a single collaboration
The memories, they are beginning to fade
Your entire self, so quickly decayed.

Those heart wrenching songs start to play in my mind
Always making me want to rewind
To where I laugh instead of weep
Where I dream of you in my sleep.

Written and posted on June 28th, 2016.
By: Michelle Corbin

Copyright © Michelle Corbin | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

From The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand - THE RUINS OF THE ANCIEN REGIME

Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.

He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.

With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!

Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.

Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.

Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.

So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!

God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.

Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?

"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.

Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.

Story: http://www.sloveniatimes.com/total-mess-in-state-owned-capital-asset-management

The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si

Copyright © Julian Bohan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

The Poem of Everything

With a mass influx of background radiation
Strengthens the idea of a cosmic inflation 
Ten seconds of magic starting with a bang 
Leaves religious hearts with a heavy pang 
What before was that of a mysterious bubble
Was to be unwound by the discovery of Hubble 
That creation is expanding at the speed of light 
Makes the naked eye struggle for a clear sight 
To only that of which our minds can observe 
Which some do believe is shaped in a curve 
Believed before that it was in fact much flatter 
For not in parallel lines can keep this dark matter 
In this space appears to be no electric charge 
Keeping Apollo at bay, and Armstrong at large 
What conditions would allow life of intelligent form?
Or withstand heat or the sweep of a galactic storm
Into the mass amount of scientific speculation 
The idea of which a metric theory of gravitation
Can imply through discovery of Einstein’s Ring 
Even light from a far, will make your eyes sting 
So even now we can see those many stars 
And some assume we could even have life on Mars 
But what about that gaping hole in the Milky Way?
That feeds on the mighty energy and light as its prey 
A region of spacetime where nothing can escape 
Hidden between the stars in its invisible cape
Through event horizon time ticks more slow 
To truly unravel space, that we may never know

Copyright © Faith Carmichael | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Fireworks Hill

Let’s go climb
And move back time
To that mysterious hill
Where a boy first met his girl

Long before 
The cynics arrived
Before the laughter died
And God returned the day to night

Where dazzling fireworks
Rained sparkles
On our lives
Two strange birds
Came together
And opened up their eyes

Let’s go climb 
We’ll move back time

Fireworks Hill, Fireworks Hill
Far from my mind
Never forgotten
Fireworks Hill, Fireworks Hill
We became one there
So very often

And there are vivid colors 
Blasting through the sky
Dancing rainbows 
I really want to taste
There is weeping smoke
Painting all the stars
Burning graveyards 
For the human race

Let’s go climb
And move back time
To that mysterious hill
Where a boy first met his girl

We’ll race to the edge
Fulfill our pledge
It was written in blood
The heat of our love

Oh, jump, baby, jump
We’ll fly away together
Jump, baby, jump
Our bodies joined forever

Let’s go climb
And move back time 
To that mysterious hill
Where a boy first met his girl

Fireworks hill, fireworks hill
I see the sparkles in the air
Fireworks hill, fireworks hill
I smell the dazzle of your hair
Fireworks hill, Fireworks hill
We flew to Heaven over there

Let’s go climb
We’ll move back time
(Forever…with you)

Copyright © Catman Cohen | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |

Where the Leprechauns Play

I tip toe through the darken forest
Shhhh! This is my favorite tune
Notes astray from a thickset underbelly hollow
It’s like gold on the wind that’s spun anew

A snap of fingers and click of heels
Beneath a toadstool where I see mighty movement
It’s a belly aching fiddler conspiring with wee laughter
And my feet begin to dance a merriment enchantment

This time I’m absolutely sure
I’ve found their little hiding place
Where all the Leprechauns go at night
At the rainbow’s end to drink green beer and sing

My legs won’t even begin to stop
As they jig me into woodland further and further within
Closer to those little devils and their hidden sacred spot
I knew the magic of the Irish music would be death of me yet

Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Back in time: A Space Knight blues

Before I stepped into this brave new Valley of The Tears,
My mother used to sing me songs of Knights all brave and fierce.

She told, as she was herself told by her own mother dear
That they came from far back in time, some millions and a year. 

These Knights, I've never seen but with my closed eyes in her womb
And in those days, they rode in holy circles in my room.

The circles went all up and down like in a whirling pool,
With lights and fires everywhere and seats as soft as wool.

These nights of sleepless nights, as I played witches with a broom,
I never knew the lights I saw were real witchcraft and gloom !

'Twas like a fairy tale to me, with engines swirling 'round
And angels white and brilliant surrounding holy ground:

The pearls of white and blue beryls and stones as red as wine,
and the gemstones, and amethysts and crystals so divine !

I used to travel back in time with windows open wide,
But one day, the Knights came and brought me to the world outside;

That's when I was born to my mother as a mammalian,
Until the doctors discovered I was a reptilian...

which means that for the human race, I am THE ALIEN... 

by Voahanitriniaina Rabary-Andriamanday from Madagascar

Copyright © Voahanitriniaina Rabary-Andriamanday | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Endless Nightmare

In an empty world,
And a room with no space,
There’s a hidden door,
To a forbidden place,

A place with no voices,
No voices to hear,
A mysterious world,
If you enter to dare,

Where everything’s grey,
And dark colored walls,
With windows of stain,
And endless halls,

It comes through the night,
It’s a place in your dreams,
When you can’t wake up,
From a nightmare of screams.

Copyright © MARIO DILETTO | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Deadman Wonderland

Now that you're becoming Undone It's time to have some fun In Deadman Wonderland Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao The setting Red Sun of Kali Shows it's time for your life to Pay We are the Kind to be feared -your friends We look like anyone you see Thuggee--Death's Devotees Face our treachery Bhowanee we must please She needs more--we have found our mark, our mark Won't you be the one to save humanity? Can't you see this is Deadman Wonderland Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao Khoon Tu Kao Sacrifice! For The Black-Skinned Queen Sacrifice! For Our Mother Kali Sacrifice! It's Not Enough Sacrifice! No Mercy! This is Deadman Wonderland Deadman Wonderland This is Deadman Wonderland Deadman Wonderland

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012

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 |


how to pick a mushroom
you walk a forest of trees
you dig the omelet for breakfast

but to find dinner an other game
as you have to dote on her story
of ease only one life to live

very recluse none the less
very profound to find her
she made your life better

Copyright © catherine labeau | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Dark Eyed Traveller

Standing at the tavern door,eyes dark and brooding
Neath his floppy hat, stared into the crowded room,
A Raven flew from his shoulder settling in rafters high,
He smiled a sardonic smile and ordered a mug of ale.
All turned to look at this dark eyed traveller tall,
His leather boots dusty ,cloak trimmed with mud,
And from his belt around his coat hung a dirk long
No one thought to say a word they tried to look small.
Around the smoke filled room his gaze did wander
Settled on a crowd of rowdy sea going lads noisly
Drinking ale and rum and telling bawdy tales,
Just back from foreign voyage across the seven seas.
Within their midst a vision sat with a smirk on ruby lips
 Long hair framed her face like waves of swelling sea,
Like kelpie mane, ran that hair ,her eyes like deep sea green,
And at once his dark eyes shone beneath that floppy hat.

The night wore on, the air grew warm, the raven fluffed his wings
From somewhere a shot rang out lodging in rafters deep,
Laughter raucous and shrill cut across the misty room,
Silence fell heavy among the gathered crowd.
He slowly turned his head in the direction of the rowdy lads
Dark eyes flashed as stepped towards where they sat,
As one they rose and laughed in his face,swords drawn,
In his hand a wooden staff and they  laughed no more.
Faces stunned into disbelief at what they had seen,
Around his feet six men lay still blood seeping from their wounds,
He turned on his heel and slowly went through the door,
The Raven cawed, spread his wings as he flew out the door.
Standing by his horse the sea going beauty waited patiently,
She smiled as he approached with a swagger and dark eyes flash
He tipped his floppy hat and beckoned with outstretched hand,
She went to him in full embrace held him like a band.
They travelled the land, the sea faring beauty and the dark eyed man,
Their tale told  throughout the fair sun kissed land,
From village to village and taverns where seafaring folk met,
The legend grew of the Dark Eyed traveller and his mermaid bride.

Andrew Provan McIntyre   ©  2015.

Copyright © Andrew McIntyre | Year Posted 2015

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 |

The Tale of the Man of Goat Island

Guests of Niagara Falls
A narrative stays untold,
Of which I can recall
Since the time I was 5 years old.

Between two cataracts
A strip of earth does lie,
A terrain of little impact
Found beneath the New York sky.

Upon this stretch of soil
A gentleman did live,
Fed up with worldly spoil
And with what it had to give.

Days were spent in solitude
Among the grassy plot,
From the world he did seclude
In this most congenial spot.

But oh how days are mournful
And nights are filled with strife,
A man becomes quite scornful
With no one to share his life.

His thoughts flooded with pain
He grew weary and forlorn,
Then one day they found his remains
A victim of bridal veil’s scorn.

The legend continues today
Rumors are told on the byland,
Of acute and utter dismay
The tale of the man of Goat Island.

Copyright © Michele Nold-Godleske | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ballad |


I see you standing there through the fog looking at me 
Your eyes never leave my face 
What are you seeing?
What are you looking at?
You see me standing here in the mist but you don't come no closer
I can feel that you want to come to me but something's holding you back
Don't you want to hold me in your arms ? 
Don't you want me baby?

Mystery guy come to me 
Clear all this fog in your wake 
I want you 
My body achs for you 
There's so much space between us
Filled with this fog and mystery
Why do you just stand there letting the fog swallow you?

I cry out for you
to run but you just stand there like a statue 
Mystery guy come to me 
Don't stay here in this fog

I'm trying to come to you but someones holding me back
I can see that I'm starting to lose you to the fog
Even though I don't know you 
I can't bear to lose you

It feels as though Iv known you my whole life
Who are you mystery guy?
Fight don't give into the fog
stay with me

Copyright © tabitha colby | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |


Beneath the roots of the Tree of Life,
The mythical Yggdrasil,
Live the Three Sisters of Fortune,
Three spinners sit weaving still.

Our fortunes favoured, fortunes damned,
Are spun to dusk from dawn,
The destinies of every man
Ordained before we’re born.

Spun threads of rope and threads of silk
And threads of finest gold;
With every one a path of life
The Spinners have foretold.

Embittered entertainment prompts
Their play with our distress;
They weft and warp our misery
With transient happiness.

Even the most blessed threads
May still incur their wrath,
Sometimes are spun through deeper roots
To weave a darker cloth.

The rarest threads, the bravest lives
Led so resolutely,
But as with gold debase to dust
Corrupted absolutely.

They spin the hopes we seek fulfilled,
And bring them dashing down
They weave our ways to where they wish
Then laugh beneath the ground.

Life’s choices are illusory,
And false we have free will;
Oh cruel Sisters of the Tree!
Oh fickle Yggdrasil!

Copyright © John Coopey | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ballad |

My Immortal

As daylight fades away
When sun you cannot see
When the moon arises
It's then he comes to me

A face that never ages
His skin so pale and white
His eyes as black as thunder
That seek me in the night

My world is with the living
With food is how I'm fed, but
Blood is what he feeds on 
For he is the undead

As he takes me in his arms
My heart begins to thud
As his lips reach for my neck
I offer him my blood

With him I want forever
With him I need to be
I cannot make this happen
Without immortality

He’s everything I’ll ever want
He's all I will desire
The secret I will always keep 
My immortal  Vampire..

Copyright © Raina Hutchins | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Why the dogwood tree grows

Why the dogwood tree grows.

In the middle of a vacant filed stands a grand dogwood tree where the  crows gather daily. People flock far and wide just to gaze at its majestic stature and overwhelming beauty wondering silently amongst themselves, “How this tree came to be.”

Shrouded in secrecy lays the scattered bones of a dead man. 

His hands rest against his thighs, his head turned upright as his soil filled eyes gaze upward awaiting the warm glow of the sun that sadly never comes.

The man laid to rest beneath the black dirt over time had long been forgotten, he no longer had a name, no home, or even a family of his own. Just the loving roots he had been encased in long ago.

But how this event came to be only three could say.
The women, the murder, and the forever silent dogwood tree.

The restless bones belonged to a man, a young man who had fallen in love and courted another mans betrothed. The women cared for the simple gardening man and the many trees his nimble fingers tended but her fiance was a jealous chap with rage to match.
And upon one final night after witnessing their true loves kiss the grief stricken cohort stuck the man down with his rusted pick axe and banished the gardener to his hand dug grave, placing his lifeless corpse in a vacant filed in which no one came. But what the enraged man didn’t foresee was the seed of a dogwood tree.
It fell from the deceased pocket and grew from the gardeners heart.

Year after year the tree budded magnificent flowers each possessing a hint of red staining their petals.

People marveled in its splendor gazing at the unique tree, gasping in awe and glee, but for one women its beauty agonized her for its existence was a constant reminder that no justice, nor revenge could ever be won for her simple gardening man.

And as the roots steamed onward feeling the caressing flow of a spring wind on its crimson petals the mans chest flooded with air and his dry, frail skeleton once more exuded life; 

And  as she eyed the swaying branches his memory suddenly came to life.
He was the air the tree inhaled, the nutrients it desperately needed to grow, and the reason it thrived.

Even in death he had the gardeners touch.

Her wrinkled face light up with love and for the first time in fifty years she smiled in happiness thinking to herself.

“That is why the dog wood tree grows, its out of love for my dead mans bones.”

Copyright © Whitney Hart | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

The Old Home

For Eve Senn
You may have never believed in ghosts
Smart people never do,
Or certainly they never admit
To others that it is true.
But I can tell you of a ghost
That's known where ever you roam,
And that is the spirit that remains
When at last you leave your old home.
You'll think that when the door's been locked
And you've said your last farewell,
That the book is closed, the story done
There remains nothing else to tell.
But in the stillness of the night
You'll awake in your home that's new
And catch yourself turning, or walking or thinking
The way you used to do.

Then you'll remember the mantlepiece
Where the old clock used to fit,
And the sunny patch in the garden
Where the cat would always sit:
Or the sheltered spot where the bench was set
So you could take in the view,
And you will remember how things are not,
Today in your home that's new.
And should you ever return again
In spirit, or one day visit,
You won't find a nook that does not have
Some little memory in it.
The answer you see is in your mind,
The phantoms are lingering there,
Waiting for something to let them loose
And catch you unaware.
When you think there's nothing there!

Now that you have got this far, leave a message and be a star!
Thank you

Copyright © Neil McLeod | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Empty Road

As the gentle winds flow
As the arrow left the bow
All is now understood
In my road I stood
While I'm waiting here
They are waiting there
Many things are give or take
Yet with my fate I refuse to play
I can see the end of the road
No happiness just a load
In the middle a coffin lies
May the gentle wind begin to cry

Copyright © kelvin omar | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Phantom kisser-

A masquerade ball was in full concert when
A charming young man stepped in

He bore a green tunic with gold trim
Mask devilish with a wry grin

His mask bore five feathers atop his brow
In full view of the whole of the crowd

The music stopped and no servant bore his name
No mark of royalty or note of fame

Who is this man whispers a girl
A mystery man, man of the world

His eyes a radiant green breaching the mask
The music starts with a nod no questions asked

His manner quite and shy though confident
Both hands resting behind his torso defiant

Utterly refusing any hand placed before him
A mission is what makes him grim

One girl and only one is his treasured fox
She is sitting at a table near the clocks

A common girl young enough for school
A starving pain runs through him almost cruel

A slow melody is played by the maestro
The gentleman gaze at him to and fro

A hand his placed before her tired eyes
Shear delightful sounds as she cries 

An angry man in a red mask stalks toward them
When an older woman steps in front of him

“Let them go” She says
“Why should I” eyes furiously red

To the center of the dancing floor they stroll
The beat picks up with a flick from maestro

Soft beats sound as they come together
Then silence…..weightless like a feather

A dazzling dance wows the place
Enough so to put awe on each face

After the last step and last beat coincide 
Their masks come up no more reason to hide

Their lips meet and cheers break out
Like those at a fight awaiting the bout

The commotion was too much for the old man
He stumbled forward to greet the brigand

A chase commenced with the house guards
Even some of the house bards
The Youngman fell and was detained quickly
Then a sound arose from the courtyard sickly

The sound of a sword piercing flesh
A pool of blood and a mess

Unveiling his mask bore only a lad
At this the old man felt sad

The young girl never knew what became of him
Her father detailed his absence to be of a decided whim

In reality he survived after his body was left for dead
A long fever and a month in bed

A preacher picked him up and healed his impaled breast
With medicine and well needed rest

He awoke later to a dream of his lady fair 
When he smelt the perfume of roses in the air

A second chance the preacher stated 
Yes it was not to be he debated

Now he is an old man sitting and writing this tale
Letting my grandson know not to bail

For I will leave it in my will for his eyes only!

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad |


My quiet reflection..........

With the coming of the night

My quiet reflection

Upon the Sea of Moonlight


Upon the Sea of Moonlight

My journey through the night

There is no darkness to fear

For, the light of the moon is here


Soft silver moonbeams.........

More than I can dream

Guides me through the night.......

My journey upon the Sea of Moonlight


The night wind blew.........

Filling my sail..........

Filling me too..........

On my journey's trail


The night wind blew

Far in to the night

The night wind blew

Upon the Sea of Moonlight


For, the sail never flapped

It remained steady

The night wind trapped

Every gust...........

Every eddy


Witnessed only by the night

The silent crossing

Upon the Sea of Moonlight


Within all our dreams

We all take sail

Under moonbeams

The journey's trail


The night wind blows

Upon the Sea of Moonlight


Before dawn

Before the sun rose

The coming of sunlight


The dream world

Travelled at night

With the sail unfurled

Upon the Sea of Moonlight


For some...

The journey never ends right

For  some....

Time to leave the Sea of Moonlight


Your sail, to catch moonbeams

Upon the Sea of Moonlight

To travel, in your dreams

Pushed far into the night


My quiet reflection...........

With the coming of the night

Your quiet reflection

Upon the Sea of Moonlight

Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2009