Most Liked Ballad Poems (504)

What do you see through your eyes? Is it differnt to mine?, Is the world conspiring or just fine? Do you believe the world is round?, alien invasion? what have you found? so, we think we are right, always, day or night, you say that, I say this, then we eventually dismiss, and pretend we know, agree?, its all a show! In the end, its not you, its not me, we just dont know.

If there is an art to writing or poetry, it comes from the heart not what you see, and all lifes troubles and happiness, are all laid bare, more or less, thats a wonderful gift given to few, the ability to express the real you, in words and thymes, to let it all go, especially in these trying times, I read your words and try to see, understand the meaning what it could be, its sometimes encoded, but its all I need to imagine its me!
So, I'll mention a few, Abby1963, thank you for being complimentary to me, and EXRED3, Just like Abby your comments were nice to see, then we have Oceanzest, so hard to rhyme, I'll take a rest, before I compliment him on his poetry, well done you three.
And soutmiamia4321, I reflect on your comments,well done.
So, this is just to acknowledge you all, and if I dont comment,I'm homeless again, didn't pay my rent. (just joking) There's more that I missed, ,,,,,,,,,,, so,,, I'd like to thank mr and mrs ,,,,,,,,, for getting me here,,, winning this award is just soo special to me,,,I'd like to thank my family,,, Joe Bloggs, the bus driver who let me off outside, its all been a great ride.
Bye for now, see you again, beam me up Scotty,,,,,,,,,,Scotty,,,?,,,where did you go Scotty?,,,


Postcript: This speech did not use any Que cards, I am solely responsible,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Scotty?,,,Scotty?,, where the hell are you?,, get me outta here quick!

You need to ask questions or you will never know what road to take, which way to go, so observe and learn to find your way, but be yourself, come what may!

A prison ship in the vastness of space, prisoners all, the human race, illusions of freedom to keep all blind, no truth allowed, there's nothing to find, only rules and regulations, laws for populations, to think is frowned upon, verbalise or analyse, contemplate? its too late, humanity has lost its way, its time , its here but nothing to fear, it will end in a blink, and then start anew, a whole new world for me and you, rejuvenation for every nation, just hope its a better Godly Creation.

I am sorry this is not a poem,
though, I could make it one, I suppose..
The thing is, since I lost my husband,
I've not really, felt able to compose.
What I would like to ask, if someone should happen to know,
Is how to go about getting a book of my poetry published here..
To leave for my kids, and grandkids, when my Good Lord calls me home?~

all was the same
on strawberry hill
the city looked up
at those walking down
and tethered boats
traced the breath of cloud

all was the same
on strawberry hill
shadows hid in the corners
of old masonry
at the stroke of 1
figures emerged
in search of bread
and milk

all was the same
on strawberry hill
the clock face
pointed out degrees
and starlings were
spilt iron filings
on the paper sky

all was the same
on strawberry hill
save bracken was cleared
from the boreen of thought
and you wore new
the ring
my labours bought

I sit transfixed as thought it flies
to see warmth twice inside her eyes
a carraige full of moving breath
some bound for life some bound for death

the train arrives and brakes do bite
and all else there is prop and light
a flicker of wind... a dash of rain
I see her breath on the window pane

she gets her things and does a check
a silk scarf hides a graceful neck
her lipstick stains my white starched shirt
to me a mark I had from birth

some hearts will always poets be
I taste her breath and know, not me

not me

drank whisky
from a bellybutton
after hours in a bar
heard the sound
of my breathing
through the lungs
of your guitar

heard a seagull
sing the blues
from the deck
of a fishing boat
heard Mississippi
for the first time
thought that is all she wrote

heard tampa sing
"it hurts me too"
on a road to NYC
heard a lover say "I do" in church
then spent the night with me

and lightnings
just a broken string
on horizon's air guitar
cloudy lyrics
fall as rain
through the windscreen
of my car

there's always a new town
a new girl and you
you're trying hard
to unpick life
tangled up in blue

I was níneteen years old
when I set foot
in Brooklyn
with a head full of money
and a heart full of dreams

irish as green
broadshouldered and happy
I had two million thoughts
and two million schemes

"Take your time" said my Da
your game but your restless
not everyone out there
thinks like you do

for some
they would shoot you
for the brogues on your feet
or the claddagh you got
from your mother

so take it easy and lightly
and think like your happy
and the world is your own
and the good things are free

at the time uncle Finbarr
was a cop in new Jersey
my father.. much younger
looked after his Ma

when an email from America
said "send the lad over"
and my da looked at me
and the both of us smiled

for i spent my life working
the nightclubs of Dublin
for a few college women
and a few pints of gold

"so maybe you can learn
the true cost of living
see some of life
and maybe help me"

so I landed in Kennedy
with my big Irish head
holding a smile
and humming a tune

when my breath it was taken
by a big yellow taxi
and a stunning young woman
whose eyes were like June

he sat on the old deck chair
and thought about her
about how she tied a strand of blonde
behind her ear
when she was anxious

how the sun made plans
between the gaps
of her fingers
how her breath tasted

how her beauty
made her invisible
against the birdsong

how the curve of the earth
found a mooring
in the shape of her foot

how the moon
used the naked oak
as a chinstrap

how her eyes
were stainglass windows
in the chapel
of her face

how the untried seconds
were a lifetime
in old clothes

how she dressed
in the untailored truth
of honesty

spoke
in the dialect
of unaware kindness

and sung.. in the key
of smiling