Ballads

Tell exciting stories, usually about lost love. Set to eerie tunes. They are a way to express strong feelings from a tragic event. Traditional British ballads are written with four line stanzas--lines 2 and 4 have 3 beats and rhyme. Literary ballads are written to be said, not sung. Images are key in either form.

I have posted two ballads here--both set to music (however, I haven't applied music yet to the second one...)

BALLAD OF THE FAIR WEATHER LOVE

The clouds do gather here, my love,
and darken the midday sky.
The rain will come down soon, my love,
and wash away the day light

Do you remember yesterday
when happier songs were sung?
Do you remember what you said
when day had just begun?

You said you’d love me for all time;
you’d never leave my side.
Now you’re packing up your things
(your words emerge to lies).

How can I learn to breathe again
as I breathed with your ear to my chest?
Will I learn to sleep again
in our cold and empty nest?

And when I hear those songs, my love,
the ones you sang to me
how can I keep from breaking down
at their piercing melodies?

What should I now say, my love
I’ll be happy when you’re gone?
How long must I wait, my love
before I can move on?

The clouds do gather here, my love,
and darken the midday sky.
The rain will come down soon, my love,
and wash away the daylight.

Find a warmer place, my love,
go where the sun does shine.
I’ll forget my fair-weather love
who loved me for a short time.

Here's my second stab at a ballad:

THE BALLAD OF C WALKER

when she walked into the room
when she came around
good people watched the floor
and no one made a sound

she raised her hand in sharing time
we tensed up in our chairs
she spoke and spoke till someone asked
if someone else would share

when she walked into the room
when she came around
good people turned their heads
and no one made a sound


she wailed along with Joplin
on a rainy Friday night
dancing with herself
her tumbling world took flight

she spoke to us for hours
but now that she’s dead
can we recall a single word
this shaking woman said?

her aching soul departed
in January gloom
where scribbled lists of prayers
were found in every room

good people look to heaven
in memory, confess
while we were forgetting her
she was praying for us

when she walks into the room
we’ll all fall to the ground
light from every limb
a song from every sound