Most Commented Ballad Poems (503)

Free minds can’t see, free minds can’t be,
It’s all an impossibility, freedom cannot be,
There is no dictator, there is no creator,
There is no future, there is no past,
There is nothing here to last,
Simple minds create the crimes,
Profess their way, follow what they say,
And what you believe , well, it’s up to you,
But no one cares, because nothing is true,
It can all change in a heartbeat, because
Someone talks from a higher seat,
But be aware, for in this world I see,
Don’t ever say, because you will be,
the guilty party!

I sit transfixed
as thought it flies
to see warmth twice
inside her eyes

reflected in
the glassy pane
two pupils flower
past disdain

a look of summer
dressed in light
a thirst beyond
the drink of sight

some lust for life
and flirt with death
a carraige full
of moving breath

my logic screams
in measure new
though all before
wore beauty too

for even Yeats
or Neruda's verse
would paint her well
but paint her worse

a foggy smudge
her breath it seems
can not distort
the shape of dreams

Oh heart...why do you seek?
Doesn't heartbreak make you weak?
Remember all those tears you cried?
Just because of another heart that lied.
Those broken promises,those wasted years,
Those memories that created your fears.
And still you hope,still you seek.
Poor broken heart...aren't you weak?

Look at me , looking all around,

My mind is in a dazed phase;
Unstimulated even by sound,
Like being blind in a Haze.


Nothing seems to give interest,
Like a drunk man with no goal,
Aimless meander with no rest;
Wasting time and rotting soul.

Much waste and unproductivity;
Using time to be useless,
Gradually flowing to insanity,
Everything seem fruitless.

Then a tall man came along,
He looked me strait in the eye.
"What are you doing with yourself?",
Said with a firm but loving voice.

I lifted up my head trying to think,
Said ,"Don't know" in a groan,
"Can I lift you up, O poor soul,
Come with me , to my home!".

I slowly got to my feet ,
What the hill, somebody cares,
Now I can get off this street,
With assistance up the stairs .

I must smell to high heaven,
Not washed near a month ,
Stains ,smudges, sodden,
What a mess , scum of the earth.

"Lets clean up", he said ,
"Leave your clothes by the door,
I'll wash them , you wear a robe,
After showering come and eat."

Cleaned Up, soap and shaved,
Feeling this good , a big change,
Made to feel like a new man,
Think I can break these chains.

"Sit down , here's chicken soup,
And a Grilled cheese sandwich,
I'll make some nice Chai tea!,
I'd like to talk about your life ".

Me too!, thinking such kindness
Given to me in lovingkindness,
Feeling that God is good to me,
An Angel came to set me free.

"What happened to you ? Tell me,
How you got into this state?"
It be six years since being fired ,
Lost all I had , house, wife left.

Got so low ,cant get back up.
It's awfully dark in this rut,
Cant see a light looking ahead,
My feet all stuck in dark mud.

Echo sound, from every turn ;
"Sorry, cant help you !"
So I keep on waiting, looking,
Asking for work that will pay.

My bed on grass or cardboard,
Shiver till morning light.
Dreams of family warm hugs,
Now only ugly world comes.

I know there's a Good God ,
But I don't feel Him around,
Life got so hard on this sod,
Hoping for hope to be found.

Good Sir, Can you give me help,
That I might find something
Good that I can cling to...
(Asking with my desperate heart! ).

"Yes, O Soul." with tear in eye,
"It is love and Hope you seek,
Something that cant evaporate
Like earthly things
that crumble and change
With greed and pride.

I'll point you to the happy Way,
A place that is not easy to go,
But you must sacrifice a lot,
To gain this wonderful abode .

It won't be got with wealth,
A trade deal with commerce,
Or making yourself a good person,
Cause it cant ever be earned!

That's because it is Spiritual,
A Way that is only gotten by few,
Because it is entered by the humble,
The heart that is made anew.

If you want all the hurts and
stains of earth to be gone ,
Even sins that keep your heart
From being free of guilt .

Then you need to turn to the
God of the universe !
He has something good for you,
From the treasures of His purse.

All you need to do is Trust
His plan He made for every man .
But you will need to be Humble and believe ;
The Gift to be received .

God made it by way of His Son ,
who came by promise of His Word ,
Who was born a babe of a Virgin .
Then become the anointed One ,
the Lord !

This Gift comes from heaven,
when the Holy Spirit ,
Causes conviction in the guilty heart,
And you only see the Way of hope ,
Written in His Word .

Yes , that's the Gift ,
The sacrifice that Jesus
Gave on the cruel cross
By shedding His Blood ,
For the remissions of sins!

All you need to do is be
Humble before Him,
And confess your sins,
Asking Him to forgive you.
Then you will escape judgment.

Ask Him to be your Savior,
and He will save you
And make you free.

He is the only one
That can save
And make you free,
And give you a new start
In heaven and this earth too!"

It all made sense to my mind ,
what I'm seeking all the time ,
I'll stop trying

somewhere when stops the time,
somewhere a night,
and some little dramas..
you,me,and we,
intriguing mysteries..
at the midnight of worlds,
when the end,
reaches a short eternity..
some of them,dreamers,
call that..love..
some others..have no words..
somewhere,tangled webs,
tangerine and low tide,
blue indigo and clarinet..
somewhere in the early hours,
playing the game,
a night to remember,
a day to forgotten..
somewhere,purring,
somewhere,pouring,
purling..
somewhere and now,
and you are away..
I touch your delicate smell,
elusive memory,
just the instant,
a melody..
somewhere..

step into the make believe
footfalling into stones
where memories are citadels
wider than truth
her bones

I never knew the right words
you stole them with your smile
pirouetting effortlessly
some Parisian mile

the timbre of a meadowlark
pillowed under star
looking out for last call
in some forgotten bar

it rises in my dark thought
when my soul is out of tune
your ghost is like my memory
your voice is like the moon

I tried to find you in others
I can't do that anymore
I couldnt find the answers
this side.. of.. the shore

down by the cold sea there lives a wild swan
who floats high on the harbour till all tides are gone
all alone in this world she sails by her leave
and the heart of this viewer forever she'll thieve

as dawn gathers shadows about its own hand
the white swan sings melodies broken in sand
and if you do hear her for haunted you'll be
as your mind floats like rivers down to the sea

the heart of a woman in the guise of a bird
floating on old dreams that outgrew the world
and every summer she's there and she's past
to places where light and love seldom do last

some say the wild swan was once but a pair
so split by some bullets that flew through the air
and around those same bullets was a terrible lie
that stole all the beauty from out of the sky

she was crying
in the sea
unloved and worn
she spoke to me

her heart and boards
were long ripped out
her diesel engine
left in doubt

yet I heard her
heard her true
in her estuary
of blue

I spent a fortune
on her hull
I slept beneath
the dawning gull

weeping wounds
carved by years
open sores
wept salted tears

a friend helped me
with her coat
a rising tide
lifts every boat

and I rescued her
that year
out of wet rot
out of fear

yet twas she
who rescued me
with my work
upon the quay

less days
to think of you
my retro thinking
hours few

the odd bewildered
passerby
would enquire of me
"Why?"

this dishevelled
bearded man
eating something
from a can

I thank the thousands
that walked past
who saw her place in life
as last

they failed to stop
and read the signs
they saw no beauty
in her lines

I..
once had a girl
or should I say
I once had three

blonde, brunette
and red
one crazy night
took me to bed

they told me
they worked
in the city
and started to laugh

I told them
that I was
quite willing
but had torn a calf

I..
bided my time
drinking their beer
then they drank mine

and when
I did awoke..
I ran out the door
back to the shore

If I could hold
the quill of truth
over the page
of unfolding story

and hold it still
and let the page itself
write the words
of your defining glory

if I could see
the candle
that lights the table
beside your bed

and see that light
in constant fight
against the dousing
tears you shed

but bitter winds
comb the sands
of the fragile breath
that you release

and war minds wait
in the long grass
as foil
against your peace

If I could read your name
in vast retreating sea
and follow the tides
in a raft made
from the bones
of you and me

I would pray
with actions
outside the gate
off all you hold.. most true

and guard from devils
and unworthy men
the very thing
that makes you 'you'