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Best Poems Written by Morgan Ballantyne

Below are the all-time best Morgan Ballantyne poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I tip toe from one to another

on a hypertension link

a thousand different ways

to relay what you think

interspliced into instances

amidst angry avatars

creatures craving comments

sticky slithering sonnets

if that's all you ever find

no matter where you go

it's because in this digital wasteland

you reap what you sow

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem


I carved out a line
Through the gridlock streets
Where lovers embrace
And the highclass meet

Where the gamers trudge
Always looking down
All the elders look on
With a steady frown

Fresh stores opened
Old ones closed
The city's on the rise
Everybody knows

Tell that to the ragged
Huddled round the alleys
Skyscrapers children
In concrete valleys

In the center of it all
Pouring out his heart
Is a man on a piano
Who knows nothing of art

He's been there for hours
Days and now weeks
He's not going to stop playing
Until the summer sleeps

When winter strangles this city
The streets will be silent
The drapes of snow
Soothing yet violent

I wonder where the player
Will go when its over
Will he slumber with summer?
Or change with winter.

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem

Waterfall Valley

Down and off the beaten path
if I just keep going now
there’s a place that I have seen
and I am not quite sure how

From the roar of the valley
is the flowing blood
of a waterfall nestled
behind the cottage wood

the rocks are gleaming
and streaming
with the mist
as the water
and breaks

Moss is the carpet
bark is the wallpaper
leaves are my ceiling
the water is my guardian

It’s constant pitter patter
I cant even remember
not hearing
its everpresent chatter

I wonder what the sky
must be saying high above
the canopy of the forrest
where flies the dove

As I walk into the depths
and the grotto now before
I yearn to see it with my eyes
and make my hear soar

Just like the place in my head
not a single twig out of place
there stands the waterfall
and the cottage full of grace

and I feel the roots growing
and the trees always knowing
that they must do their silent work
with the babble of the brook

But all together now
they must play a part
of the bigger picture
where everything else must start

And to this place I was drawn
and I’ll never understand why
but I think I’ll stay a while 
‘til dusk turns to dawn.

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem


Clicket Clacket
steel brackets retract
Ticket Tacket
punching and pressing


cylander end paper bend
sticky inky ribbons replaced
fingers bleeding words
and every letter let loose

so much tact and impact
on old touchy typewriters
slamming down soliloquies
punching out poems

fast forward forty years

Seems like this keyboard
just doesnt feel the same
with prose made of pixels
in a dull picture frame

but at the end of the day
what difference does it make
my thoughts spilled on a page
for you to give or take.

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem

Paperback Labyrinth

Outlined in a halo
The ideas of one soul
to another

Who knows why this text
calls to me from the void
the faceless overwhelming
shelf of hopes and dreams

As I reach out and touch
the fragile composition
held together by pulp and
pages formed by the past

Does the one who scribed
this unknown entity
know that I will embark
into their labyrinth of ideas

so carefully pruned
collected from a cloud
turned liquid then solid
and sealed to be sold

The story I am about to consume
might as well be greek until
the focal point of my view
shapes it into meaning and then

leaves an impression in me
finding my own way through the maze
to the center of these dreams
where the meaning of life lies

inside this book
inside any book

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem


Look at it.
Look deep into it.
Be it blank, be it slated,
be it written, be it etched.
Traced, erased, replaced, misplaced.

Regretted, upsetted, mended, tended,
toiled, soiled, tilled, milled.

ruptured structured sculpted scraped
raped pillaged admitted or denied

The mirror of fear is always the same.
It reflects your thoughts back.
And you are to blame.
But break gaze with the mirror, look in it no longer.
Only use it when
You must become stronger.

No longer a slave to weakness or doubt
The past has gone and you live on without
knowing the resolution or how it all ends
Until one day it does
and you begin again.

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem

Neon Passenger

Neon passenger

Handsoap dispenseries 

Bubbling memories

In airborn particles

Dreamlike fragments

Soapbubble sideffects

Driving to infinity

In and out reality

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem


Chromium pure
tell me why
we are still

Polishing new
ivory soft
til it breaks
in two

If it's not real
If no one's to blame
then why does blood
still clog the drain

When machines reveal
the true faces
when the exchange fails
in empty places

We wont deny
how brightly 
how blinding
the ichor shines

We can't deny
how real
how monstrously
we were blind

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2017

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem


Push your bubble outwards
watch the handprints that you leave
they mean nothing to you
but everything to me

Push your bubble outwards
and watch your body and your mind
come and walk full circle
like the paths you weave

pop your bubble now
just tear it all to shreds
watch yourself collapse
as you try and tie the threads

pick up the pieces
though they’re lost on the wind
pick up the pieces
like your lover never did

Use what you did
to push forward ever harder
broken signs and troubles
lost forever in the bubbles
that people make and keep
and bury themselves
down into the dirt
six feet deep

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016

Details | Morgan Ballantyne Poem

Fresh Press

Fresh pressed words like
leaving lovers if they
never come back
they were never yours

drainage pipes leak your
lucky stars down until
they reach the sea
now horizon bound

old man on an island
picks them up and reads
the lines you lost and
takes them for his own

carefully count the lines you
write for you never know
that if you tumble or fall
you could lose them all

Copyright © Morgan Ballantyne | Year Posted 2016