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Best Poems Written by Adam Ballard

Below are the all-time best Adam Ballard poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Swamp

Swamped in feelings, 
Thinking the true destiny is gone.
Fight through the feelings, rend and tear.
The swamp threatens to take me under.
The dark waters that hold so many secrets, 
Rise to make me a forgotten whisper.
Defeated, drawn in to the waters full of despair and loathing.
The water feels cool, thick and dark, masking the pain.
I embrace it, feel it course through my mind, taking over.
The swamp fills me with what I want, self loathing.
To try and feel sorry for the waters would be wrong, why have I been wronged.
The waters comfort me in the coolness of their touch.
The coolness, that I no longer want, 
Flames, fire, heat of lust and a way of hope.
I break the surface, no longer in the cold.
I see the hope, I see the pain.
Wash it away.
Along with the silt of despair.
I am above this, the swamp reaches for me.
I vaporize its reach with the flames of self worth.
The droplets hit my fiery skin; sizzle as a I burn with disdain.
This will no longer bring grief.
I am reborn.

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Good Nights Sleep For Us

One day there will be no shame,
for what is done is done, ever more.
the time spent thinking of the past can't be undone,
What is done is done.  

No thoughts or whispers,
can replace how we feel.
Sleep is the answer, 
to wake up to another place and time.

But we want to stay alive, no sleep
if we sleep
we forget one another.

To have you fade like a dream in the early morning
That would be a release and a horror.

Thinking of you
Sleeping in your bed
Healing the cancer that is me
Causes me to sleep

Only to wake up to another
Cold and bitter morning,
Reminding me how alone we are,
Why must we be alone.

Why must we sleep.

Details | Adam Ballard Poem

My Regret

My Regret

I served my country, true to my beliefs.
Did what was asked, did as told. 
Why do I feel so old?

I did no high speed combat team, 
Never stormed a door, 
never stepped in hell's domain.
So why do I feel so unclean.

I can't sleep any more,
Thinking of my chores,
Sending brave men, and women,
Some of them barely from their mothers home.
To go to another land, a temporary home.

Some went, and never came back,
Some went and wished they could take it all back.
Some came back missing a part of themselves,
Lost in the sand,
Lost in the streets,
These soldier’s should be proud of themselves.

But I am not proud of what I have done,
Sending these men to have their worlds come undone.
Following orders, 
Sending out orders.

I hate myself for what I did.

I sleep dreaming of the zombies of my fallen brethren following me asking,
Why me, why did you send me.

I cannot reply, I can only say.

I was following orders.

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Lost In a Feeling

Lost in a feeling,
Thinking of my friends.
Thoughts reeling,
When will this end?

Friends in war,
Endless conflict.
What is it for?
It just kills and raises debt.

For control of oil,
To stop mad men.
So much turmoil,
Why did this begin?

I wish they could come home,
My brothers and sisters in arms.
I know they feel alone,
I wish them well and free of harm.

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Release From Hell What Poetry Is To Me

The written word is a release from hell,
Every day life;
Sometimes one can’t tell,
That one can live mundane and full of strife.

Inner thoughts escape free in form,
The anguish lost in the soul somewhere to the east;
Ideas formed in love and hate from an emotional  storm,
The words ebb from the soul to rend the hidden beast.

Details | Adam Ballard Poem

Lust and Pain

Lust and pain,
Go hand in hand.
Lust and pain I must refrain,
I must train to refuse the pain, 
Trust myself, not to lust.
My lust will only be the cause of my world to bust.
Wide open with a ethereal pain.
Tear my being from disdain.
Fill my entrails full of pain and lust.
Why does the world feed us so much pain?