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Ballad Animal Poems | Ballad Poems About Animal

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

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Details | Ballad |

The Squirrel

~My Nutty Squirrel Poem~

Up in a tree, on a branch
Now you see me, now you don't!

Sneaky and fast, I'm adorable
Now, why would you hunt or shot me for fun?
Do you like, how fast I run?
I'm not just another chipmunk 
Stuffing my face with nuts,
I'm classy and beautiful, 
The  best  part  of   nature.....

Red pointed ears, I hear you drawing near.
Chuckle, chuckle, caffeine free
I saw you looking at my fine coat.
Fluffy and curious, touch me and I'm Calling PETA!
See YA---  Life Is Beautiful!!!
I'm stuffing these nuts back into my mouth 
and Jumping onto another tree :) The End
Love The Squirrel from another World.  

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |



Here's a ballad of the Whale Song,
Translate and we'll all sing along,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

Here's an enormous whale,
Swimming the sea for his grail,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

There blows the great whale,
Harpoons we hope shall fail,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

That's our ballad of the whale,
Singing their aeons of tales,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Call Me A Unicorn

narwhal narwhal swimming thru the sky
you look like a unicorn
can you tell me why?
are you full of magic?
or maybe its a dream?
I love to ride the rainbows
in this place where nothing's as it seems
bursting thru the clouds
dew drops on my face
colors dance across the sky
in this captivating place
narwhal narwhal will you come again?
for a magical adventure
right around the bend

Copyright © Lizzy Love | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Ham versus Hog

Let me tell you a story
From a time gone by
The tale of a greedy butcher
And a pig that could fly

In the little village of Piddle Brook
There lived a butcher named Mr.Ham
He was bearded, bulky, and a belcher
And was rumored to eat his own toe jam

A lover of all meat
Pork,beef,duck,chicken, and mutton
All this gorger did was eat
He was a professional glutton

But Mr.Ham’s appetite was not satisfied 
He longed for some thick greasy bacon
Just a few strips, nicely fried
Served with pickled daikon

He peeked through his window 
And with one beady eye 
Spotted his neighbors hog
And pictured a flaky pork pie

His mouth watered
"What a delicious midnight snack!"
"I will barbecue,braise and fry her"
"But first I will launch my attack"

"Oh but I shan’t become a thief!"
"T’was only a whim!"
But Mr.Ham’s thin scruples vanished
His growling belly got the better of him

He grabbed a pitchfork
And the hefty hooligan set out
He advanced on the sleeping hog
And grabbed her by the snout

Her piggy eyes shot open
And in a flash
She darted past the butcher
And ran past the fence in a dash

Mr.Ham bellowed in rage
And waddled after the beast
But the pig was too quick
Yet Mr.Ham never ceased

And so the chase continued
A wild game of cat and mouse
They ran through the streets
Row upon row,house after house

Finally the swine was cornered
The escaped pig let out a squeal
And great feathery wings sprouted from her back
Said the pig “Thou shalt not steal” 

And with one final snort
Two leaps and a hop
The winged sow flew away
And Mr. Ham collapsed with a plop

"I suppose it was a sign from above"
Mr.Ham sighed with defeat
From then on the rotund carnivore
Gave up on eating meat

Copyright © Ariella Ru | Year Posted 2013

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 Tree

                                            The Tree

Through the foggy mist of a new day dawning
Appears a huge tree, awaiting the birth of another winter morning.

All that remains is its bare branches stretching toward the sky
And an old abandoned nest, left by its owner who traveled south so it wouldn't die.

The tree appears lonely but somehow full of hope
As if it knows Spring will come which enables it to cope.

A few months have gone by and the faithful tree is still there
But now it's consumed with excitement from its first breath of spring air.

It seems new life has come to the tree within a blink of an eye
It now stands picturesque, full of lavish green foliage set against the baby blue sky.

It waves its branches proudly with the breeze as if to show off its features
Which also seems to serve as a welcome sign to all of God's little creatures.

It appears to be much happier, now that its friends are back once again
Cradling brand new birds' nests and providing shelter during the rain.

The little squirrels also take advantage of their most generous host
It seems they like chasing each other up and down the tree's trunk the most.

The tree is now bursting with activity
With all of God's wee ones living His promise of love and longevity.

All through the summer the tree takes pleasure as it continually strives
To serve as the best meeting place for everything that creeps, leaps or flies.

Full of contentment, I'll bet the tree lets out a happy sigh
Every time it watches a baby bird learn how to fly
Or whenever a caterpillar turns into a pretty butterfly.

I often wonder if the tree truly understands
The major part it plays in God's circle of life simply because it stands.

Fall has now arrived and the tree appears sort of saddened by the sound
Of its first leaf gently falling to the ground.

All of its friends begin packing it up as they gather for a big revival
That's when the tree wishes them a safe and happy journey as they head south for their survival.

The tree bids each one farewell and says loud and clear
"To each God's speed and have no fear
For I'll be waiting right here when you come back next year."

It is now winter and a year in the life of the tree has come full circled once more
Although lonely, it is bigger and stronger than ever before.

But I know not to feel sadness, especially for the tree's sake
For in God's plan, He makes sure even the tree gets a well-deserved break.

Copyright © mary singletary | Year Posted 2015

Details | Personification |

The Unusual Ballad of Lily and Pierre

The Unusual Ballad of Lily and Pierre

Feline Lily strolled one day
and behold who did she see,
Pierre, the Tom cat of her dreams 
under a cherry tree.

She gazed at him, he winked at her
from that day it was their plight,
they were destined for each other
it was true love at first sight
She admired his wiry long black hair
on his back a white stripe too,
but she had one little problem
she didn't know what to do.
In certain situations 
at any time or given day,
he sprayed a putrid odor
that seemed to never go away.

She didn't know how to tell him
that he really stunk,
and he didn't know to tell her
that he actually was a skunk.

Lily couldn't bear to leave him
and so the story goes, 
she chose to wear a clothespin
daily on her nose.

I guess the lesson learned here,
whatever flaws you think you've got,
true love can rise and overcome
you're a skunk or not. 

Copyright © Liz Labadie-Reilly | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Sit By My Side

Sit by my side and lick my toes, 
Or stick your nose in my lap. 
There never could be time for woe 
Not even time to nap. 
Your tail wags fast and furious, 
And you hop about with joy. 
Looking up at me and smiling, 
Like a kid with a new toy. 
I love you like you’re family, 
and look forward to each day. 
A love so unconditional, 
There’s always time to play. 
Our time together may be cut short, 
For life sometimes is not fair. 
But you will always have my heart, 
Devotion, Time, and Care. 
-       Mary Susan Vaughn

Copyright © Mary Susan Vaughn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

A Friend Indeed

The day you came to live with me 
We both wanted a friend 
To love, to care, to spend some time 
No other could there have been 
For you approached me smiling 
A twinkle in your eye 
Tail wagging with such joy 
We both were hooked for life 
Never a bond so tender 
Never a bond so true 
You snuggle up to me each day 
No closer than us two 
-       Mary Susan Vaughn 

Copyright © Mary Susan Vaughn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |



If we had ears to hear,
A tale of many a year-
Turtles travel, my dears,
Round the world all year.

What sights turtles do see,
Swimming the deep blue sea!
Turtles travel, my dears,
Round the world all year.

Turtles so clumsy on land,
In water, a graceful band.
Turtles travel, my dears,
Round the world all year.

Oh, I wish we had  ears to hear,
Turtle tales over the years.
Turtles travel, my dears,
Round the world all year.

Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Majestic Eagle

Majestic Eagle

Imagine the sights
of an eagle's keen eyes,
gracefully gliding
through soaring blue skies.
Dominion she known
since the earliest days,
Kings of the air
even natives would praise.

Regal in nature
with confident class,
no movement unseen
should her eyes chance to pass.
A warrior hunter
with valor and grace,
no match is her prey
in the predators race.

The size of her talons
are gripping with fear,
while the smallest of sounds
can't escape from her ears.
A life like a Phoenix
amidst it's ascension, 
worthy of honor, 
respect and attention.

Her powerful wings
a sight to behold,
so fitting her castings
are polished in gold.
Sharp as a razor
her beak takes its prey.
a natural warrior's predator way.

Aside from her grandeur 
of honor and pride,
the eagle is from
whom the rest of all hide.
No match for 
her majesty, power and size,
even great owls 
find respecting her wise.

Copyright © Jeannie Minor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

The Poem Tree

The poem tree is a very safe haven, 
for birds and fowl, a hawk, a raven, or
a little barn owl.The tree could be a
silhouette, or the finest place to raise
your pet.The poem tree could bear
the fruit of life.Such as apples and 
pears, with morning dew.A wonderful
place to play the flute.The poem tree
could have a nest.Giving birds with 
eggs, a place to rest.It could capture
a kite who someone lost, or be bitten
by the morning frost.It could capture
a balloon, which went astray, or drop
all its leaflets by the bay.The poem
tree could have a lollipop, or maybe
a candycane, umbrella branches, to
stop the rain.The tree could protect
all animals, from an oncoming flood, 
and keep all the tree bugs out of the
mud.Above the tree the sun will shine.
Home for a raccoon, or a porcupine..

The Poem Tree by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011,2014.All rights reserved.

Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |


There live a girl, oh yes, a girl
Head so big with one thing
Intoxicated by every full moon
She likes the light from the moon's beam

Everyday she wanders, oh yes, she wanders
Downtown London, where she finds life in the streets
She waltzes down alleys, backdoor galleries
And practice losing her virginity

She stole away, oh yes, she stole away 
Like a thief in the night she borrows
Borrows the innocence of others
While lie the rest left in sorrow

There live a girl, oh yes, a girl
Who possess a trusting wink
One quick glance, trapping trance
Then she's in the wind before you blink.

Copyright © Kira Price | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

The Great Trickster Bird

From what time or place does this White bird hail?
With clapping thunder and striking lightning upon shale.
A feeling of dread before a feeling of fear,
knowing but wishing the creature wasn't near.
Creaking with sneaking does the wooden floor quake,
slowly and surely, the walls begin to shake.
A trickster and eater of men they say,
once thought a tale but now truth, pray.
Safety and escape would all be for naught,
for the beast would find you with all but a thought.
Plumage of white with specks of blood,
will it ever stop? or will the bodies flood.
A hunter of man steps forth from the Frey,
intent on making the beast-bird his prey.
Stabbing and slashing with all of his might,
into the beast's eyes to remove it's sight.
Biting and tearing the bird's wings away,
ensuring it can't fly yet another day.
rendered to naught was this great bird now made,
escaping from humanity and into obscurity would it fade.
Once majestic and fearsome, the bird king now shunted.
The great trickster-bird had now become...The Hunted.

Copyright © Oliver Liore | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

The Thing In The Dark

I lay alone in my bed,
Clutching my stuffed bear Ted,
The frightening darkness all around,
I do not make a sound,
I try to sit up and calm my self,
But something stairs at me from atop my bedroom shelf,
A pair of amber eyes blazing in the dark,
Then I jump because I hear a dog bark,
The eyes flash and I hear a thump on the floor,
The sound is very hard to ignore,
There is a thump on the bed,
I clutch even tighter my stuffed bear Ted,
I hear a purr,
I feel some fur,
And then I'm sure whats on my bed,
My stuffed bear Ted falls to the floor,
And I hold and hug the cat I adore.

Copyright © Christian Ball | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

White Lion

Fur as white as snow,
Much more rare than gold. 
His eyes are sapphires lighting up the dark,
His legends are ancient and old.

Little by little,
He stalks his prey. 
But being white robbed him of his skills,
The antelope raises his head and runs away.

He shakes his massive white mane,
Though some times are rough,
More days will be completed. 

Little does he know,
Another hunt is taking place. 
A man is following him, 
At a fast and steady pace. 

A snap of a twig,
the turn of his head. 
A shot of a gun,
And the lion lay dead. 

This may not have happened,
If it weren't for me. 
What man is missing,
Is empathy.
                                                 Stella H

Copyright © Stella H. | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Dakota Skies Part 1

My brother and I walk the south pasture on an early spring day,
The warmth of spring slowly melting, the cold of winter away.
The golds of old growth are broken by the green of new,
And we are drifting in dreams, though we have work to do.
Gathering the cows for milking, we allow Father Time to pass by,
When a shadow in the barbed wire catches my brother’s eye.
We run through the stubble of last season allowing dreams to lead, 
Shaped by childhood stories which we had seen and read.
The cries draw us near where she hangs, limply as if half dead.
Each barb is cutting deeply. She slowly bleeds the earth red.
The life within her still pulsing its unbreakable bond
We make a solemn vow, a promise, to the crying, broken fawn.
Freeing her from her prison, we discover she is too weak,
She cannot stand or fight, has lost the force of her instinct.
My brother lifts her to his chest and orders me to go on.
For the chore of our cow gathering still must be done.

Miles between us and home, they trudge, a child with a child
Him dreaming of what will be when we tame the wild.
The weight of the burden breaks him and he falls to his knees.
Looks to the heavens for strength, but there is only me.
Her hooves drag along beside and I cradle her in my arms -
The weight of her pulling me downward, and yet I struggle on.
We entrust her to the dancing shadows of the oak tree in the yard,
And beg our mother for help but her motto is “Life is hard.
The veterinarian is more than we can spend. Milking still needs done.
Wild animals should be left to nature and the course which it will run.”
With a child’s gesture of love, we leave her and gather grain.
The labor of farm children - as essential as the rain.
(There is a Part 2 which can be found on my page.)

Copyright © Rosann Fode | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |


I will not only give legs to my coiling words
I will give them the hitting blow of your weakness
You black pot of sluggish disgrace and shame
The day is coming, coming soon when your
Stupidity shall be made known to the public
You primitive snail of shame and infirmity!
You have dearly poked your rotten fingers into
The bitterness of my spirit man
And I will never allow you dance freely until
I put fire under your anus to burn
Look, you have no legs yet you carry a heavy home
On your back moving. From one place to the other proudly
Oh! Hmmmmmm, what a curse upon you,
When shall you get your freedom proud snail?

Oh foolish tortoise , talk slowly and learn
Your drum is sounding too loud to my ears, gbo!
I understand your words even the one yet in your mouth
When I shall raise my voice, your throat shall be my chorus
You listen! Come out from bubbles to life friend
A black kettle calling pot black
Not in the same world were they made?
First remove that which is your eyes before me
Least thou fall and gnash your teeth.
We are of the same kind, from the same world
Let runners of accusing songs put legs in their words

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

song of the wolf

who will hear our song,
If we are gone?
Will you feel our pain,
As our blood falls like rain?
Who will know our strife,
If you take our life?
Why can't we be free,
We leave you be.
What would you have done,
If it were you under the gun?
You say we are killers,
That we thirst for blood.
But you became a murderer,
When the first shot rung.

Copyright © Samantha Hanifan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Troubled Water


Let her go! Let her go!!
For the sake of the crying breast
Milking dropping to the cruel earth
Let her go! Let her go!! Let her go!!!
For the children's songs need to calm her,
Troubled not her ears till her beads is gathered
Together, fear is the old friend of humiliation of 

What has she done in this season of joy?
What makes her bleeds profoundly when her
Days are still young among the widows?
Treat her gentlely for tomorrow holds her dreams,
Speak to the air and he would understand your stand.
Tradition must not be a torment to womanhood.

Culture has been made to be an enemy to women, 
If the great stone had been turned dead
It is not of her making rather it is of the god .
He chose to tread in that path where demons
Feast in blood and later thrust the blame to humanity.
Let the lion go, for the living dogs can act as one.

Don't push her left and right like
A water pured on the ground,
Stir not her feelings and emotions
For grace abide gently in her bosom.
You have no mighty reason to make her
Life a troubled water for her advocacy is her.
Let her go! Let her go!! 
In her lies the future.

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

The Albatross

Under thunder blows a colder wind, across an endless sea,   
Like a voice from the call of a far off shore in the solitude we perceive; 
For ago remained an innocent age, torn away by a thousand years
Where sincerity alone is tied to its own majestic grace;
But flow on the bluest waves over the oceans deep and wide   
Waiting long for things abandoned

Forsake those condemned to the early dawn, far past ten thousand year’s,
Still in all its silent symmetry, flies by a bird on wing;
Mysterious seemed that outstretched arm, in all 10 feet in span                                   
Grasping what came from the east, bound to rays of light; 
For seas are blessed by both good and bad 
Waiting long for what’s abandoned  

Fifty years is doomed to its own intent, lost in its own emotion,
While all that we can hold, is a time fifty thousand past;               
Come see what waits is a soul possessed, holding a daylights passage 
Where what seemed lost is an albatross, staring through its blacker eyes; 
But all we see is the bluest sea, left under tomorrow’s sky
Waiting long for things abandoned

Crashes still those crystalline waves, warmed by spring’s rebirth, 
Until we see an albatross, departing as the seasons change;
And a hundred thousand years escapes, slips away from time and place
Bound to the cliffs and bound to the rushes of a land so far away; 
For over the bluest sea, is the sunlight that we seek
Waiting long for those things abandoned      

Surrounded is he who waits in the shadow, lost to the rhythm we’ve created,
While somewhere stands an albatross, and drinks its salted wine;
For now is past a million years, gone to the mystery of life
Lost in the worth of simplicity and the innocents of desire;
But now the bluest sea is calm, with no sign of what is past
Waiting long for things abandoned
Escaped the thought of an albatross bound to the symbol of its virtue,
Leashed to the seas and the sound of the waves, longing a far off shore; 
Hold on to the meaning of our vision, past ten million years 
And hear the call of an albatross, its beauty and its wonder;
For here we see the bluest sea, in a land of lost intent
Waiting long for those things abandoned

                             By m.norton

Copyright © Mark Norton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

White Lion

Fur as white as snow,
Much more rare than gold. 
His eyes are sapphires lighting up the dark,
His legends are ancient and old.

Little by little,
He stalks his prey. 
But being white robbed him of his skills,
The antelope raises his head and runs away.

He shakes his massive white mane,
Though some times are rough,
More days will be completed. 

Little does he know,
Another hunt is taking place. 
A man is following him, 
At a fast and steady pace. 

A snap of a twig,
the turn of his head. 
A shot of a gun,
And the lion lay dead. 

This may not have happened,
If it weren't for me. 
What man is missing,
Is empathy.
                              Stella H

Copyright © Stella and Skyler H. | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |


Thoughts are mixed with any
Of the feelings and emotions constitute
A magnetic force which attracts other 
Similar or related thoughts within
If only I have legs that can walk 
As fast as that of humans, I could 
Have run around the world.

If only I have no house on my back
I wiLl walk faster than the pride ostrich
How I wish I have a human brain
I would have rule the world with ease
If only I could fly like the birds
I would fly so high to all parts
Of the world making light that wiLl
Sustain mankind, then I will decorate the
Universe with a glorious fragrance of hope

If only I am not a tortoise but a parrot
I would have sing to the world a melodious love song
That wiLl change the heart of animals called man
If only I am a lion, I could have rule the world
But now I am a slow animal, it makes no difference 
Like humans who wish they could but could not in the long run.

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

The Moon's companion

With Fur that is white and cold to the touch,
Never had i gazed upon beauty of such.
Eyes that glowed a bright golden hue,
As soon as i saw, i had found her i knew.
Her tail was long and thick by sight,
But dance it did against the wind's force and might.
Taller she was than one man and one more so,
A sad creature she was, a ruler of pain or woe.
The arctic was her kingdom, but no one lived here,
No one to protect from pain or fear.
At the moon, she'd howl with echo and sound
As if answering the bright sphere and her masters abound.
Was she a normal creature? I thought,
Or was she a deity of the arctic kingdom she wrought.
Quiver i did by her imposing presence,
But then with her near, i would come to feel pleasance.
The Moon's companion, the queen of the unforgiving ice.
All that stand before her are naught but sheep and mice.
I stand and walk towards her eternal grace,
Ever fearful but longing to come to her embrace.
Not snarling but watching without expression,
Judging me, a human, unworthy of aggression.
Bother me, it didn't for now i stand,
for before it, i knelt, offering my hand.
Why does she cause so much emotion within?
Within my head, a melody she'd sing.
How does she possess such a compelling note?
Why would she accept me instead of taking my throat?
A beast far more graceful than a trickster and savior,
for she is far nicer in person and behavior.
Perhaps a human turned to beast from a spell or curse?
Too late, she'd sing with chorus and verse.
Considered a ruler but subjugated, she be,
Howling at the moon, to her master she'd plea.
A companion or slave, The moon's pretty hound,
Forced to stay upon this silent throne without sound.
Understand i can't for she is not human,
She is the Lunar companion, the Crowned Angel Numen.

Copyright © Oliver Liore | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Encircling the light

Beneath the moon, to the side they keep.
At night they fly and in day they sleep.
Against a window and up the wall,
from the ceiling, they will spiral and fall.
Shoulder of fur and wings of brown,
with rod-like antennae worn like a crown.
Hated as nuisances and pests by sight,
upon crops, upons socks, upon forests they blight.
Yet they are silent and harmless to all
Not aggression to recieve nor a sound to call.
Some can be vexing and troublesome to few,
But some can be useful from a different view.
Value in silk, from moths born recent,
fed and farmed for product that is decent.
into your room, from the window they enter
towards your light bulb, their gaze will center
be gentle, be kind, uncrushed they should stay.
one less creature for them to be prey.
A bane upon wool and a scourge upon cloth.
Also harmless and simple, the common Brown moth.

Copyright © Oliver Liore | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Duck Watching

How can ducks look so serene,
gliding swiftly 'cross the pond?
While just below the water's surface,
frenzied churning's going on.

Webbed-feet are all in action,
like old piston-pumping wells,
Not a feather -none is ruffled,
not a splash of wetness swells.

If ducks are left to just be ducks,
they sashay 'cross the pond.
They're never out of character,
just ducks -that swim around.

But if they see the breadcrumbs,
duck-watchers love to throw.
It's then they agitate the pond,
And it's a tsunami water show.

Intrusion -that's the fowlest rub,
ducks lose their duck resolve.
And in a hyper-state of quack,
ducks tranquil ways dissolve.

Do the moving ducks remind you,
of some folks you meet each day?
The quiet ones that seem so calm,
in their sad and empty way!

A few of them will slip through life,
as though it's just a tranquil ride.
But deep below their psychic surface,
Tsunami thoughts there-in reside.

Do not intrude as 'watchers' will,
Least you're ready to release.
A deeper -darker part of them,
what their minds let them unleash.

Copyright © Margaret Wade | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballad |


Amilius 500 thousand years ago we came upon the earth, in spirit form our natural state, the blue green planet searched, Amilius the first Adam came, first born of the one true God, We sprang into animal bodies, a subject of much mirth, no Frogs, death was no annhilatation. Some stayed too long in animal form and hardened, had to wait, went through the pain of death, the spirit joins his mates, 5 races started by Amilius, colors, black, white, brown, yellow and the red, Were started in 5 places, thoughts are deeds of the one Gods thought form, so the human race was bred. The Atlantean race were red of skin , In the mid Atlantic ocean, High explosives were used to rid them of Dinosaurs, Gas pockets joined the explosion, sunken land caused a commotion, almost annhilation.. Ra and Hermes built the great Pyramid, It took one hundred years, They were from Atlantis, where the sea drowning did, rear. Hermes the first and last Adam, Did float big blocks in the air, Thought form generated, Cut an shaped with perfect fair. Baptist John and Jesus studied, At the pyramid of Cheops, Initiated, prepared, thoughts flooded, Then they left the land of Egypt. Adam has returned many times, To help us here on earth, Not always noticed, steps Jesus climbed, Showed us the way to worth. Thoughts are deeds, from times of old, Could stop you dead, in deathly cold, Thought’s Indus valley Priests could hold, Your life gone in an instant. Don Johnson Why do we still have murderous terrorists, Fear is a great generator of thought form worry. Mass thoughts become deeds.

Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Fig Tree Bloom

Ionah:part four 
( Fig Tree Bloom )

It was just a fig tree touched by creations grace
To shade and hide anothers face
Keeping the scorching drying heat
From scorching his tired and weary place.

A worm it stirred beneath the soil
Growing on roots like an oozing boil
Taking the life sap of the tree
Destroying the fruit as it grew and blossomed.

Did this worm from a sea serpent come?
Hidden in side his tattered clothes
Bidding its time for a moment precise
Killing the bloom from the inside.

APMcintyre      2012.

Copyright © Andrew McIntyre | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ballad |

The Monster

 It came from beneath the swamp
 to look for the one he lost
 it went around the marsh to romp
 even though it was a deadly cost

 The woman in the house
 with her husband on the loose
 her boyfriend silent as a mouse
 was getting the booze

 and the thing came through the door
 confused, and looking for his wife
 when he saw her new boyfriend roar
 he nearly took away his life

 the wife, happy to reunite
 the husband, happy she's alive
 and she took one look at him in the light
 and struck him with a knife

Copyright © Thane Kerric | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |


Those bright, helpless eyes staring up at me. Instantly I understand her 
thoughts, as she cannot speak.

I often find it difficult to comprehend  how much this tiny girl needs me. And she 
never puts up a fight even if we disagree.

The trust she has in me is unlike any kind. She has a heart of gold, like an angel 
and child combined.

Many people can't  understand how humans can create such a connection. From 
the moment I held her tiny body in my arms I knew her well being was my 
ultimate objection.

It's tough to imagine how complete she's made my soul. From a playful snare to 
a warning bark, heart you have stole.

Her name is Chloe and she's tiny as can be. She isn't my natural child but she's 
as close as a dog could ever be. `

Copyright © Ashley McDonald | Year Posted 2014