Best Ballard Poems
A bitter and twisted tale to follow,
everyday the same as tommorw,
same old madness that will follow,
empty dreams and a heart that's hollow.
Ill begin each day the usual way,
look in the mirror and see decay,
a hopeless soul is what they say,
still dressed in the clothes of yesterday.
I sit on my bed with no real plans,
except for liquid, to steady my hands,
frantically search my bedsit floor,
till i find what i'm looking for.
A half empty can of a real strong beer,
lost under the bed for maybe a year,
sit back on the bed with ergency and speed,
can to my lips for the liquid i need.
with every swallow the shakes dissapear,
twenty four hours till again the'll appear,
with ergency for more i head for the door,
checking my pockets to reveal my last score.
Now out on the street i encounter a stranger,
paranoid feelings as if my life were in danger,
stare at the floor to avoid eye contact,
and focus my attention on my beer contract.
as i walk i scan the floor for butts,
so i dont waste money on buying roll ups,
long ones a bonus but short ones a start,
for when i get home ill pull them apart.
arrive at the shop and drool at his stock,
calculating what i can get for my twenty spot,
eight cans of tennents and two bottles of cider,
then proceed to pay the shop minder.
the usual pleasentrys as i pay,
and as i leave he bids a good day,
with the job half done i head back to my slum,
not quite a walk and not quite a run.
arrive back home and slam the door,
just as the sweats begin to pour,
sit back on my bed place beers on the floor,
the liquid profits of my score,
drink the day back into the night,
slowly more getting as high as a kite,
drowning self sorrow and drowning self pain,
to keep myself from going insaine.
now a waste of a life i have to agree,
but i cannot deny that life was me.
Now,Maggie ran a boarding
house,or so the story goes;
And all those that knew her,
called her Maggie Rose;
Some say she was a widow,
others a woman who;
Gave away her favors to,
whom ever caught her
roving eye;
But the truth of the matter,
a secret life she led;
And if the house,where
cattlemen and drummers;
Slept in cozy comfy beds,
could speak of;
Secret passage ways,
and doors that kept;
This secret of a woman,
who loved with all
her heart;
But none would ever
know,it died along
with Maggie Rose.
Graeme’s hero is Steven Gerrard,
That Liverpool and LA football player,
And has Cerebral Palsy. It was hard,
‘Cos doctors said he’d never blether.
He was prematurely delivered 1979,
But can now lift 3x his body weight.
For his 8th birthday his parents fine,
Bought him a horse, sports to date.
He studied at Beaumont College,
In Lancaster, where he got involved,
In CP sports competitions to wage,
His abilities and strength devolved.
Joining Chorley town Athletic Club,
He became determined to make it,
And in May 2012 Graeme did tub,
Taking silver, to sprint the Worlds fit.
Then in the London Games, Paras,
He won another silver to objectify,
His raw talent in the T36 100 metres,
In which he does his dreams solidify.
Not the sleek modern skyscrapers
Fragile, slim, standing tall
Catwalk queens of present times
But squat, imposing, solid built
Dowagers of a bygone age!
Forgotten memorials
Screaming, unheard, unseen
Proclaim of valor
In faded wars.
Winged griffins,
Gargoyles, Gods, Goddesses
Look down and stare
Mute remnants of majesty.
Verily Ozymandias comes to mind.
The lanes littered
With the birds, the bees and the beasts,
Kids both biped and quad
Suck hungrily at vestigial teats.
Pups latch on to a mother
Who’s long forgotten her own.
A crow feeds on the feast
Of rodent tripe.
And the statuary smiles on!
Form:
Oh, the ballad of love and loss
A tale that's oft been told
Of hearts that break and love that's lost
Leaves a heavy weight on one's soul
Once, I loved a fair maiden
Her beauty like the morning sun
But she left me, without warning
And my heart was undone
I wander now, through fields and forests
Searching for what I've lost
But she's gone, and I am left with
The ballad of love and loss
The wind sings through the branches
Of the trees that line the way
But all it brings is sorrow
As I think of her each day
Oh, the ballad of love and loss
A sorrowful song to sing
But though my heart may be broken
I'll keep on living
For one day, I'll find my way
To a love that's pure and true
And the ballad of love and loss
Will be but a distant memory, a hue.