Verse Ballad Poems

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

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Details | Dramatic Verse |
"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 | Free verse |
I get a glimpse of you A soft hue of light lavender rising in my dawn Gliding fervently in sun-kissed breeze An ephemeral beauty enchanting the depths of these caramel eyes Your purple wings flaunt in whimsical ballad Sprinkling evanescent dew across the embers of my heart And I feel it,a florescent flutter tickling my bare shoulder chasing the back of my neck teasing in wistful wonder My blushed smile preserves the moment of your tender brush across the silk peach of my cheek Of your fervent kiss fading in ethereal bliss An unspoiled warmth of softened touch upon the almond scent of my hair My heart captures the seconds before those iridescent wings fly high in sheer splendor to crimson blossoms which bloom which sway,which bleed their rose which wrap their thorns around my feet,around my hand So I would not follow your shimmering dust on promised paths of rainbow's pastels So I would not find you in the faraway land Yet,here I am, On autumn's carpet I mark my footprints Yet,here I come So close to you Yes,here I stand.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
As the chandelier dances with lustrous light.
Eras of still slumber awoken...from fluid dreams, the depths of her confines...hibernating..
..fermenting her taste...timeless beauty.
Legends of vineyards past...uncorked.
Poured into existence by a charming present sommelier..
The bubbling prelude enters...a smoke filled scene.

Her sparkling silhouette...emerges on a silver platter.
...of her bottled mystery of decades past.

Penning the inception of empty chapters of glass...
..with her sweet tasting presence...
...nervously sweating condensation.
Fulfilling the myths of bottled beauty of life’s unknowns.
Overflowing the liquid stanzas 
...of dazzling passion.

Her legacy manifests...scripting an ardent saga,
Staining the aura of pleasant reality.
Shining elegantly...while striding across marble floors.
Echoing...soft chronicles of champagne light.

Love, a berry...plucked from vineyards afar..
...bottled for aging beauty...filled to the capacity of his clear figure..
While passionately...embraced by his fragileness of crystal arms. the ballad of wine and glass.

Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009

Details | Verse |

Rusted wire against a tree, year by year recedes
The countless rings of outer bark enwrap the wire within.
I mark the circles choking me.  I’m taut, stretched thin.
Thus Time is so absorbing me. Consumed. The oak tree feeds.

Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Here is the ballad of Web MD,
Self-diagnosing terminal maladies,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.

Let's do our own diagnosis,
Teach yourself self-hypnosis,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.

Let's sing our ballad of Web MD,
Sure we've got terminal maladies,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.

That was the ballad of Web MD,
What are today's self-diagnoses?
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond!

Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic Verse |
a poor woman's ballad, told in her p.o.v

I ain't got a dime in nobody's bank
...and I ain't got...just to be quite frank
I ain't got a paycheck from nobody's job
I aint got nothing...luckily, I don't go out and rob
I ain't got a car from nobody's lot
...and I ain't be wasting in nobody's slot
I ain't got a house on nobody's land
I ain't got a pot to piss in, sometimes I pee in a can
I ain't got no jewelry from nobody's store
I ain't got it no more, cause they caught me at the door
I ain't got a stove to be cooking nobody's food
...and I ain't got a refridgerator to be keeping
I ain't got the strength to be giving nobody a hand
...and I damn sholl' don't have a bed to be keeping nobody's man
I ain't got no butter to put with this toast and I ain't got no spread to put with this bread therefore, I ain't got no food to be keeping nobody fed
I ain't got no cash to be letting nobody borrow a dub(20 dlrs)
...and I ain't got no money to be getting in nobody's club
I ain't got no fancy clothes, high-tech whatcha- ma- call-its or no shoes made by nobody...
but I do have a couple of things, thanks to somebody
you see...I ain't got no riches that could be considered wealth
but I went to the doctor yesterday, he told me I was in good health
I ain't got nothing really to be giving, but I woke up this therefore I am living
I ain't wearing no designer dress, but somehow, I ain't even stressed
I ain't got  no diamonds hanging down my chest
...but I'm good...cause somebody keep me therefore I am blessed

Copyright © Natalie Braddy | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
(To the tune of Robin Hood)

Boris Blood Boris Blood
Mayor of London town
Boris Blood Boris Blood
Some say he;s a clownl

Takes off the poor
Gives to the rich
Boris Blood Boris Blood.

Boris Blood Boris Blood
Went to public school
Boris Blood Boris Blood
So who does he fool

Takes from the poor
Gives to the rich
Boris Blood Boris Blood.

Boris Blood Boris Blood
Claims he does care
Boris Blood Boris Blood
Says he is being fair

Takes from the poor
Gives to the rich
Boris Blood Boris Blood.

Copyright © Ken Duddle | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
There is always forward for outings,
Always a reverse if it is missed at all,
But forward in things conjugal ever.

I have been associated with a woman,
She has an in-built, reverse-forward button.
When in good humour the forward is on,
Make an adverse statement, reverse is on.

A lady Hamlet who faces a dilemma never,
To be or not to be is not a question for her.
But always forward in things conjugal ever.
Believe me, I tend to get what ultimately I desire.

If I wish to go for a movie in 1st show,
I need to suggest her for a second show,
Believe me,I get what I desire though.

If I am cross with someone & criticize,
She tends to follow *Ravan’s dictum-
Make enemy’s enemy a friend

Ninth placement
Contest: Twist and Lock - of Nikko
Ravan, a great character in Hindu Epic Ramayan,  was a demon king of Shri Lanka.

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010

Details | Verse |
The Mutaitho hill zigzags its way to the borderlines of the sky
And to the opposite poses the historic Muilu hill once a shrine;
Now there between slithers the Kimongo River where huge rocks lie;
It’s on the banks of this river where the bachelor beekeeper lives.

His bald head is not worthy a ballad 
Nor are his words so many to deserve a hoot,
It is his bee keeping zeal that stirs your blood;
An enterprise he’s run for years thirty and three.

And don’t think of the sophisticated box hives
Where you ferry the insects and lock them in,
He fells a log and hollows it all with his knives,
Till a home for bees he fashions there.

Not the low-lying things folks call hives,
Well-smoothed wooden objects lodged up the twigs
Of the most slippery trees with leaves like chives
Where no cunning badger would ever dare venture.

And he does his seasonal harvesting in the dead of the night,
While softer men curl to listen to the snores of their wives;
A night traveler will see his hairless head reflect the moonlight  
And think they’ve spotted the nightly escapades of a ghost.

Now why he remains a bachelor at sixty and three
Is a secret only known to his beekeeping mind,
Perhaps nothing charms him more than a flourishing hive,
Perchance no girl would enchant more than the honeyed bee.

Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Burdened waves slow motioned,gently lift tired eyelids-whispers.
Speaks an incomprehensible raspy language to subconscious;
Mind unaware,eyes chained to where blue meets azure.
Mourning waves wailing past sorrows unforgettable.

Scorching sun above witness, time's healing ointment
Calms sloshing, turns to gurgling, frothing & silence.
Waves' heights mark decibels, joy & pain quantified,expressed.
Wisened serene waters meditate,singing soothing hymns
To lone hearts seeking life's meanings in the abstract.

Descending  blanket of darkness muffles frolicking surf.
Agony laden screams, writhing to escape clutch of terrors
Unknown. The blue deepens, murky black leaves sea affected.
Penance of shouting, weeping & sobbing at the altar
Of solitude, fruits into return of pristine innocence.Rebooted.

Burdened waves slow motioned,gently lift tired eyelids-whispers,
Carriers of secret messages,unheard stories & salty tears.
Caressing sleeping ears, rise,rise to the sounds of the sea.
Rise...rise soon for a new Blue Ballad lies in wait.
                                  -©Viraj Shah 30.11.2013

Copyright © Viraj Shah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |
Friend: He says I am a bad mother.
Me: What a mess.
Outcome: She feels broken, she’s falling down.
Hope: But she’s clenching her fists together now.

Friend (quiet and fearful): But what if he’s right?
Me: Tell him to look in the mirror!
Outcome: Her eyes meet my face, but skitter away (ashamed)
Hope: She is resolute, she wants the finality of divorce.

Friend (agonising): What if his love is better than nothing?
Me: He is nothing; you deserve more!
Because he gives you nothing but exhaustion;
Because he takes your oxygen and says shut up;
Because he offers only negativity and your boys,
Your beautiful boys, what if they think
That is how you should treat a woman?

So, my friend, sucking once again on
Her nicotine cancer-sticks,
Which are healthier to the soul
Than him, the selfish beast.

She has walked away, on bended
Knees, her back bowed in shame,
With a swollen face that cannot hide tears, but
Rightly she concedes both of them share blame.

Their heartbroken song
Cruel and slow like Calexico
Her face is strained, bearing that smile;
Her teeth tightly clenched, all the while.

Although I would like to search for some place
Where divorce finds an easy location of blame,
Best I can tell, it rests on angry shoulders,
Under which none of us feel the same.

Her pretty face, bitterly contorted;
Her barely-40 face, shamefully weary;
I try to recognise such anger, such hatred;
And realise it is pride that has left her so teary.

Please, my friend, cease your screaming now.
Because he is not worthy of your voice
Becoming so worn and hoarse,
Divorce is indeed your best choice.

His poisoned love,
There is no need to pursue.
He is not the lover
Who you originally knew.

Please, my friend, cease your crying now.
His lips mouth words of hope,
But you know the truth – he lies.
He just does not know how to cope.

You want to understand
How did this this mess unfold?
But know this: you are not to blame;
Nothing looks the same in such cold.

Your love song
Has become love lost.
Of which you should
Carefully consider the cost.

As for me?

I’m tired of being passive,
While he preys upon your fears.
I’m tired of wanting to fight,
Even as you shed for him more tears.

I’m tired of denied anger,
Especially when I see it in your eyes.
I’m tired of forced conversation,
When there is nothing but goodbye.

I’m tired,
Know you are too.
But it is always easier on the outside
Than within something so hard to do.

Copyright © Debbie Lee | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
although you are quite unaware
of this piece of knowledge or of my existence
you are my sun
the center of my galaxy
i orbit you, cling to you for life, depend on you
but i am neptune
isolated and far and small
and completely hopeless
for you are far too strong to look to me for help
for enjoyment
for beauty
i am merely there, orbiting you, feeding off of you
hoping that one day my path of orbit will circle in closer to you
and praying that one day
the sun will look at neptune
and marvel at its beauty

Copyright © emily g. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Travis was not tired one bit, he had no intention of sleeping.
He desired more than blankets and covers, and the promises his sheets lay keeping.
In bed, he squirmed, as the candlelight burned, he tossed and turned on his side.
-Oh that he could be someone, somewhere far away, he could be Sir Travis, the Knight.
"Gather round this table" he'd bellow to all, "a dragon approaches the town!"
While villagers trembled, the brave ran away, but Sir Travis, the knight, stood his ground.
This dragon blew flames of blue from his mouth, not a pupil was seen in stare.
But Sir Travis approached, undeterred by smoke, and the fury awaiting him there.
 Black were the wings of the serpent whose talons were known to cut armor.
Swift was Sir Travis, his shield, unyielding as sure as his galloping charger.  
Fields of wheat were blown back from the impact of sword ringing notes against claw.
Songs sung by creatures of flight were silenced amidst the screaming and brew ha.
A dust hurricane strained to obscure the view from the townspeople watching outside.
The noise and the power unleashed from both sides ensured there was not a dry eye.
And from the cacophony a silhouette formed and a figure emerged from the ashes.
Triumphant, our savior, his sword raised, there was that brave Knight called Sir Travis.
And the villagers cheered and the trumpets sang tributes of many  peaceful times to come.
And tales were told of Sir Travis' Dragon and passed down from the old to the young. 
-Yet, that night, Travis was not tired one bit, and he had no intention of sleeping.
He desired more than blankets and covers, and the promises his sheets lay keeping.
but to his bed he returned, as the candlelight burned; he lay down and closed his eyes,
As the moon smiled in phase, he again became someone, somewhere far away.. 
He was Sir Travis.
Sir Travis, the Knight.

Copyright © David Dowling | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
Under your skin lies a new body, 
a body so perfect you'd skin 
yourself if you knew how sublime 
existence could be with such 
perfect, shimmering and angular 

The same practice works with 
your mind. Just get rid of it, 
(a shotgun works well, or an icepick) 
and another will grow back in 
a few days, one without any of 
the prejudice, hatred, jealousy or 
of your old mind. 

The old mind goes to mind school, 
and learns how to not be a piece 
of sh*t. 
Then, it gets inserted into the open 
and waiting cranial cavity of a 
newborn Kamchatkan tribesman. 
This process is known 
as 'brain-birth.' 

Hopefully the Kamchatkans 
will never discover that 
their precious ritual 
is little more than 
psychosomatic thrift shopping.

Copyright © Samuel Durant | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
There is no one to trust, 
there is no one who cares,
the pain destroying a caring woman,
and only lies, more lies and loneliness surrounded her.

He ignored her painful screams,
he kept hurting her without regret,
he hijacked her dreams and happiness,
and now he states she is unstable.

She is losing hope,
the only little golden thread,
that made her float.

She is falling in the abyss.
She hears the voices kicking her,
wound after wound.
It is never going to heal.

Cut the pain,
cut the pain.
She has no control over her happiness and life,
but she has control over her death.
Cut the pain,
make it stop.

Copyright © Clementine Hope | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song 
   'The Road Goes On Forever'

Flying high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leaking oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputtering, it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
gotta get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.

Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rear view,
blows a tire and fits the spare.

Evening comes, it starts to raining,
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.

North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doing ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
He is screaming from his soapbox again.
His voice carries heavily through the air, 
like a cloud of sulfur, soot, and disrepute.

He is old and he is fuming,
and he must do what old folks
do best, other than croak.

He must yell at the lost souls
of the newest generation
of degenerates and sinners

who will all surely burn in hell,
who will die writhing in agony,
and none of whom give even half a shit.

He may not even know the source of his
vitriol, but goddamn it, its there,
and he is going to spew it everywhere.

These are not opinions.  There will be no discussion.
Our own soapboxes will remain unused.
Our politics all silent and subdued.  
We do not want to make a scene.  

Copyright © Samuel Lee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Alien device finds its way to Earth
On earth there is time of rebirth
Young boy picks up alien stone
Suddenly he feels like he is not alone

What he sees before is great castle with a tower
But it was not build by alien power
He recognizes it as castle from Earth’s past
To know its story he feels he must

He sees in a castle girl gives a knight a rose
Seeing that for them to be together knight will propose
But knight first must go to fight on a battlefield
He picks up a saber and a shield

The battle is fierce as fire consumes the sky
On this field many brave warriors will die
Knight trough enemy ranks his lance runs through
At once he kills more than a few

Lance breaks but estoc he will weald
But he lost his shield
 With estoc he wields saber weapon of last resort
He can do hits from arm and wrist with this sword

He is a great warrior but he can’t’ protect his back
And a musket shot gets him in the back
If it was arrow armor would protect him from that dart
But musket hit him right under left scapula right in the heart

After seeing this story boy tells his mother
She tells boy’s father
When mother gives the boy goodnight kiss
She sees how upset he is

But boys’ father is working on kind of a flower of his own
Mesmerizingly beautiful flower of nebular dust that in space will be thrown
It is a probe shaped like a flower with laser light and vortexes in their full majesty
And its mission is to change control and go beyond destiny

Boys’ father puts right coordinates in
And battle goes differently after it would begin
The knight survives and in late hour
Returns to his love with the rose flower

They get married and are happy ever after
It is the fairytale ending that we are after
With power beyond continuity counterbalance or any shift in destiny
The probe aiming to go beyond destiny 

Gives opportunity
To get more than infinitely
Close to being free
And that is great destiny

Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Do you ever feel as though
No matter what you do 
You’ll never be as good 
As those who’re viewing you

And the songs about the same 
To which ever day you move
Time grants you space to mood
And  melodies to sooth 

Yet you stand so far distant
That no one knows you’re gone

Having laughter next to smiles
Brings us back 
To being orphans as a child
I’ll sit next to you for a while 

Run, Run
As fast as we can
No one really
Can stand a plan

And no one knows you’re gone

Here’s to another chapter written
Impurities of a young one missing
Hidden beneath the stars 
I lost myself to comfort sitting at your bar

Stripped the strings from your guitar
Did you forget to show them your scars
Seems you’ve come so far
And they ask you, whom you are 

Still no one knows you’re gone 

“When all you have is you 
I hope you find yourself 
Along the way”

Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
her eyes is as rich as olives
her curves as delicate as a pear
her hair as the trickling waterfall
her skin as tan
her scent is olives, pomegranate, peaches, strawberries, and raspberries
her love drowns me in fire
if i can only be with her
only just for a minute
my life is complete

Copyright © karima griffin | Year Posted 2008

Details | Dramatic Verse |
 Ballad of the Werewolfs

All the lights went out in the city that night
The hunger came alive without a fight
Crept upon us without a surprise
They get warned of our disguise
Our existence they despise.

Are we evil?
Are we divine?
We all got a place in time
Are we evil?
Are we divine?
We all find a place to hide.

When they wake 
They search for us in the light
We own the night 
They command the light.
12 people gone out of sight
Disappeared in the night.

Then the lights fade
Then we emerge once again
Our hunger controlling who? What? and when.

We fill their nightmares through the night
But in the daylight we keep out of sight.

We hear the names you call us
Waiting for our fate to befall us
We are not evil
We are not divine
We are the hunter you’re the pray 
until the start of the sun shining day.


Copyright © gareth stockwood | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse |
His name was James Skene
He came from Aberdeen
Sent down to Edinburgh to die,
The brother of the Laird
Land and power shared
Everything that Scotland could supply.

But inward treasure captured mind and heart
The noose won't drag him and God apart,

So death where is your sting
When the edict of the King
Is naming God as a royal crime,
And the Covenanter's tone
Is God sits on the throne
Welcome to the "Killing Times".

The Privy Council told Skene to back down
But He loved and served a different Man's crown,

The sentence of the boss
Was death at Market cross 
So that all the people then could see,
The covenant they made
Was a useless aid
If they thought that it would set them free,

He felt his life was not dear to him
Here are the final words of James Skene

"I lay down my life
For owning Jesus Christ"
He said as he looked up to the sky,
On a cold December Day
The wind and rope then played
Swinging to the tune of Martyr's cry,

Confirming what the world already knows
The blood of Martyr's make the harvest grow.

Copyright © Peter Hall | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |

Rusted wire against a tree
Year by year recedes
Inside of the circling bark, invisibly
Consumed. Relentlessly, the oak tree feeds.

The countless rings of outer bark
Enwrap the wire within.
Thus Time is absorbing me. I mark
The circles choking me.  I’m taut, stretched thin.

Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
A touching ballad sung sweet and low. Stirring the heart
and waking emotions that long layed dormant. 
Their bodies sway slowly their feet tap gently to a
touching ballad sung sweet and low. 

One hand taken into another with lite and loving squeeze. 
Smiling eyes meet in a dim lit room. 
From opposite sides of the table their joyful memory grows
of that first touching ballad sung sweet and low.

Copyright © Edward McCall | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
I compose a ballad 
in every line with the musings 
of you; however
the ballad is a winged creature

with its chirping and tweeting
ventures to every part of your days
also, cherishes you at dreams;
while rainbows 

surrenders to the downpours,
every verse paints the sky sparkling
and obstructs the tempest___
just by the thoughts of you.

Still, just because my feathered 
creature can't join a breeze, 
you simply disregard the sound of 
adoration melody, and you rest.


Copyright © Fiakfairok Zathang | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blank verse |
Above a cloudy jar of brine
That floated greenish hard boiled eggs,
Beside a Schlitz beer waterfall
That told bar time (ten minutes fast),
A taxidermied Jack-A-Lope
With rabbit ears and tiny rack
Stared marble eyed into the dark.
“We don’t have many Jack-A-Lopes
Back home in any city bars,”
I told a man who served us drinks.
“At prices there, that’s no surprise.”
The barman said without a smile
And told us of the Jack-A-Lope:

Time was you looked, you’d find his kind,
But rarely in these mountain slopes.
They only bred in wintertime
And only in electric storms.
It’s rumored round that milk that came
From mother Jack-A-Lopes could cure
Whatever walks on twos or fours 
So rare it was most called it myth
As much as Sasquatch ever was.
Until one day a dowser came 
Divining where to dig a well.
And gripping his good witching stick
Could swear he saw the front branch twitch.
He scrunched his eyes and looked again.
“No, something’s in that undergrowth.”
Up popped the branchy antlers of
This fearsome critter,  Jack-A-Lope.
Now as it was this dowser had
A more than common whiskey thirst.
And had to live his life downwind
From ordinary decent folk.
Like pictures of Napoleon,
He stuck his hand inside his coat,
Produced a flask of sour mash,
And threw it at this portmanteau.
Some say it hopped away afraid,
But those that know have winked and said,
“That animal attacked the flask;
Without their bourbon Jack-A-Lopes
Will fade away until they’re gone.”
Outsiders paid some license fees
For hunting season, dates of which
Cannot be found on calendars.
The most were poached as trophies for
Hotels, saloons and brothels where
The mounted heads amazed their guests.
No hunter had had an interest in
An animal that can’t be killed
Because it never ever was.
But now so heavy was the hunt
The Jack-A-Lope was soon extinct,
So every one of them was killed
To prove one time they did exist. 

The bar grew quiet just as if
Some meaning might be understood.
I pointed at my empty glass
And asked the barman pouring drinks,
“What’s on that plaque below the head?”
“Some Latin words, a kind of crest.
A family motto more or less.”

Copyright © Stephen Wilson-Floyd | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Who's riding so late through night so wild?
It is a father who holds his child.
He keeps the boy held close with his arm:
He clasps him tightly, he keeps him warm.


My son, why hide you your face in such fear?


Oh, father, see! The Erlking is near!
The Erlking crowned with his train in his fist...


My son, 'tis but a streak of mist.


Thou darling child, come go with me!
Such lovely games will I play with thee!
So many flowers bloom on the downs,
And my mother has many fine gowns.


My father, my father! But do you not hear
What Erlking whispers so soft in my ear?


Be still now, oh, be hush now, my child:
In withered leaves moans the tempest so wild.


Now, splendid boy, wilt thou go with me?
All my daughters are eager to romp with thee!
All my daughters will lead thee with mincing tread,
And rock thee and dance thee and sing thee to bed--
They'll rock thee and dance thee and sing thee to bed!


My father, my father! Oh, can you not see
Erlking's daughters all beckoning me?


My son, my son, I see like the day:
'Tis naught but the ancient willows so gray.


I covet thee! I want thee, and feel no remorse;
And be thou not willing, I'll take thee by force!


My father, my father! He's seizing my arm!
Erlking has done me an awful harm!


The father trembles; all speed does employ.
He holds his arm round the shuddering boy...
He reaches home in fear and dread:
For in his arms now the child --- was dead.

Copyright © John P Marmaro | Year Posted 2018