As I’ve no hope of returning ever
As I’ve no hope of returning ever,
Little ballad, lightly, softly,
Go yourself, to Tuscany,
Go straight to my lady,
Who of her great courtesy
Will show you highest honour.
You will bring her news of sighs,
Filled with pain, and great with fear:
But take care to meet no eyes
Hostile to a gentle nature:
My disadvantage then for sure
You’d work, like one opposed,
And be by her reproved,
And so prove pain for me:
So that after my death there’d be,
Weeping and fresh dolour.
Little ballad, you know that death
Grips me so that life deserts me,
Know how my heart with every breath
Beats hard, as the spirits speak inside me.
So much of my Being’s now undone,
I can scarcely suffer longer:
So if you would serve me further,
Take my soul along with you,
Fervently I beg of you,
As it leaps from out my heart, here.
O, little ballad, now I yield
This trembling soul to your friendship,
In its sorrow, take it with you,
To the sweet one to whom I send it.
Oh, little ballad, sighing say
To her, when you’re presented:
‘Your servant comes
To be with you,
He leaves one,
Who was Love’s servant’
You, little weak and fearful voice
Issuing from the sad heart weeping,
Go with my soul, and this little song,
And tell her of my mind that’s ruined.
You’ll find a tender woman there,
Of an intellect so sweet,
That it will be delight complete
For you to leave her never.
And then, my soul, adore her,
Worthy as she is, for ever.
poem by Guido Cavalcanti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Hear Voices...
And from the graves, where names were carved in
stone, came a mournful Ballad, of life gone by.
A Ballad sang by mothers, whose children left behind,
and left to sing their ballads, of tears that did remain.
And what of Fathers Ballad, whose job was not complete,
who died and sang his song, of things that could not be.
In a smaller voices, still weeping and confused, the children
sang their Ballad, of parents never knew.
And in some far off place, a Ballad did come fourth, of all
the deaths that happened, that wasn't meant to be.
A soldiers painful Ballad, did seemed so unjust, of the
war that finally killed him, in a land he never knew.
The Ballad, of unknown, thou human, none the less,
were buried here alone, with not a one to care.
In the quiet of a cemetery morn, the Ballad of
the dead, echoes silently across green grass,
and through the granite stones.
It makes one wonder, about the Ballad of the dead,
and what will be our song...when we are finally gone.
Monster Named Me
I yearn to be free,
But there is something inside,
Something dreadful is holding me,
The beast and monster to me has cried,
Cried through all the day long,
Bitter is its nagging song,
Ballad after ballad, death and pain,
I fear hope willn't return again,
Oppressed and abused all hopes lost,
My heart is the one that pays the cost,
The sorrow and pain they beat in my chest,
Like a thousand drums, oh, when shall they rest?
poem by Palious Thatcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hush goes the crowd
(The music plays, the stage is lit, the crowd come in and a man starts to sing)
Hush goes the crowd,
While I sing this sad love ballad,
The story of my heart,
And I continue singing,
One by one,
The leave the theatre,
And soon I’m left alone,
Singing this ballad,
While I weep before every word,
From daybreak to midnight,
From spring till to winter,
I sing this melancholy filled ballad,
Murmuring these words,
As my throat dry’s,
(The man is on his knees)
Now in a empty theatre,
This song still plays,
Even though I’m alone,
My speech does not stop,
And from a sad ballad,
This song his turned into screams,
Shattering through,
Deafening every living being,
But it isn’t even heard,
No not even listened to,
By the muse of this song,
If only she heard my voice,
If only she would come to this theatre,
(Sound of weeping, tears hit the stage floor; the light slowly fades, till there is only silence and darkness)
Then the Hong is hit,
And I awake to sing again,
The same old lyrics,
There is a new audience in the seats,
But she is not here,
She will never be,
Where she is,
Is far away,
(The music plays again and he starts to sing then hush say’s the crowd)
poem by Paurakh Shrestha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep in thoughts of love, I came
Deep in thoughts of love, I came
On two young maids,
One sang: ‘It rains
On us, the joy of love.’
Their faces were so calm and sweet,
With modesty and courtesy,
I said to them: ‘You hold the key
Of all virtue and nobility.
Ah, young maids, do not scorn me
Because of the wound that I carry,
My heart has been dead inside me
Since I left Toulouse.’
They turned their gaze towards me so
They might see how I was wounded
And how a spirit born of sorrow
From my wound’s deep centre issued.
When they saw me so destroyed,
One of them smiled and said:
‘See how this man is conquered
By the power of love.’
The other filled with mercy, pity,
Made for joy, in Love’s likeness,
Said: ‘Your heart’s wound I see
Came from eyes of such excess,
Such power, they left within, a brightness
I cannot endure:
Tell me if you recall
Those eyes in you.’
To this harsh and fearful question
That the young maid asked of me,
I said: ‘In Toulouse I remember
There appeared an elegant lady,
Whom Love called la Mandetta: she
Struck me so fiercely, suddenly
To death, with her eyes, inwardly,
Through and through.’
She who had laughed at me before
Now replied most courteously:
‘She, who set herself with Love’s power
In your heart, gazed so fixedly
Into and through your eyes, that she
Made Love, himself, appear there.
If it’s deeply that you suffer
Turn to Love.’
Go to Toulouse, my little ballad,
Enter the Gilded Church there quietly,
Ask of some lovely lady, clearly,
To take you, out of courtesy,
To her of whom I told you fully:
And if you are received,
Say to her softly: ‘See,
For mercy I come to you.’
poem by Guido Cavalcanti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gothic Ballad
I walk carelessly down the dark road
My heavy black boots constantly clicking
Clicking on the cold cement
My long black and velvet Trench coat
Billowing in the slight breeze
My Chest slightly rising under my tight corset
My chains on my pants jingling together
As I walk down this Moon lit road
Staring up at the midnight moon
This is the ballad
The ballad of the lost
Of the silent warriors
Of the people you pass by and call freaks
Of the people
Who will save your soul
For our souls are pure
Our souls sing this ballad
The ballad of the night
The ballad of the pure hearts
poem by Ankoku Gekido
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Barefoot Ballad
(words & music by fuller - morris)
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Give me a honk-tonk fiddle with a guitar in the middle and a melody
Humming like a fountain swinging out on smokey mountain
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Now the big toes connected to the two toe
And the two toes connected to the three toe
And the three toes connected to the four toe
And the four toes connected to the five toe
And the five toe and away we go
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Now the big toes connected to the two toe
And the two toes connected to the three toe
And the three toes connected to the four toe
And the four toes connected to the five toe
And the five toe and away we go
I wanna barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a barefoot ballad song.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Toast For You and Yours
Your words,
Tore out,
My still beating heart,
And ended all my hopes.
I prayed,
I wished,
I begged,
I hoped.
But here's to you,
May you find,
Happiness,
And joy.
I'll raise my glass,
In one final toast,
To you,
And yours.
One final toast,
Before I,
Walk out of this life,
And leave everything behind.
Put away,
That mask,
I've worn,
Since we met.
Never to leave,
The shelf again.
To be sealed,
In a bunker of lead.
I put all my faith,
In this heart of mine,
Without it,
Without you.
I can not go on,
Tore my heart,
Out of my chest,
Trying to dull the pain.
The letters,
I've written,
Will never,
Be sent.
Aching lonely heart,
Yearning for release,
Yearning for an end,
To love.
One final quickstep,
I must dance,
And then I shall,
Waltz out of this life.
Move on,
To the next,
Lonely road,
And empty heart.
Put on,
Another neon mask,
And paint my face,
Again.
Those three words,
Haunt me so,
Would they,
Have made a difference?
If I had uttered,
One more stanza,
In the great ballad,
Might she have cared?
Might it have made,
A difference,
To someone?
To anyone?
Would this epic,
Be any longer,
If the candle,
Burned slightly brighter?
Should I have,
Doused the fires,
Of passion,
Before they consumed me?
What is left,
Of this burning heart,
Except cinders,
Ashes and broken shards.
Just what I'm,
Going through,
No one,
Can understand.
And I loved you,
Yes I loved you,
I needed you,
With all of my heart.
Some try to tell me,
Thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be,
You will be in the end.
I raise my glass,
In toast,
To you, your happiness,
And to your heart.
May I find forgiveness,
Down the next road,
On the next night,
In the next black abyss.
Black storm clouds,
Sweep over my mind,
And rain mingles,
With my tears.
Hello to you,
Hello to you,
A toast to you,
A toast to you.
A toast for life,
A toast for death,
A toast for masks,
To hide the pain.
Drown my sorrows,
In tears,
And rain.
Hide it away.
You came,
Like a leaf,
On the winds,
Of love.
And blew away,
My world,
And,
My heart.
Pain never fades,
Only dulls,
Always there,
Like cancer in the heart.
When evening falls so hard,
No one will take my side.
When darkness comes,
And pain is all around.
This epic ballad,
Of love and hate,
Victory and defeat,
Draws to a close.
Please don't cry,
If I'm,
Not back again,
This time tomorrow.
Life eventually,
Passes us by,
Leaves us to meander on.
Through troubled lives.
This ballad,
To love,
Is my final tribute,
To her and hers.
Before I walk,
This road forever.
Before life goes on,
Never ending.
The stanzas of my love,
For you,
Draw to a close,
And leaves only emptiness.
My pen,
Has written the story,
Your mind has read.
And our hearts still ache.
Liam Dudgeon2008 ©
poem by Liam Dudgeon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad Of Nice & Easy
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
Two of these kids grew up on the same street
And though some folks blow it, there's no smoke in their eyes
They're tying their dreams with doubled up laces
Falling, free falling, tangled up 'til they die
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
'Cause everyone knows they'll get their hands dirty
Ripping at seams and smoking hot knives
But sooner or later there's an end to this candle
We'll burn it at both ends and switch on the lights
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Farewell
Good-bye, good-bye; it is not hard to part!
You have my heart--the heart that leaps to hear
Your name called by an echo in a dream;
You have my soul that, like an untroubled stream,
Reflects your soul that leans so dear, so near -
Your heartbeats set the rhythm for my heart.
What more could Life give if we gave her leave
To give, and Life should give us leave to take?
Only each other's arms, each other's eyes,
Each other's lips, the clinging secrecies
That are but as the written words to make
Records of what the heart and soul achieve.
This, only this we yield, my love, my friend,
To Fate's implacable eyes and withering breath.
We still are yours and mine, though, by Time's theft,
My arms are empty and your arms bereft.
It is not hard to part--not harder than Death;
And each of us must face Death in the end!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Know my Pain
what is p.a.i.n,
pain is power asserting itself now,
usually expressed in the traumatizing rain,
letting your soul and your mind allow,
to bring about visions of despair,
that is towering over your heart,
what is a h.e.a.r.t,
a heart is howling expressions of a righteous tear,
yes, a heart is something that is always injured,
protected with a soul and mind,
that is always blocking a light,
leaving the heart confused and blind,
wandering and falling but still trying with all its might,
what is a s.o.u.l
a soul is a small outburst under layers,
indeed, a soul is something that needs pain,
yet, it doesn't have a heart,
it needs layers,
these layers are us humans,
humans complete the idea that,
(S.O.U.L) are (H.E.A.R.T) but is held down by (P.A.I.N)
fear my pain,
feel my pain,
hate my pain,
this is my pain,
KNOW MY PAIN
poem by Justice Bernard Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorrow Song of a Soul
Hearts of a lonely person do cry a sorrow filled song
My heart shall cry my lyrics of a song of pain
Whilst hearts around do differ, Mine for longer grows stiffer as treated to love it is not.
Time we spend together I wish for once more
As my heart is ill, sick with desertion of a warm touch
As though a pain grips it tight within the talons of an eagle and death grabs it from the abyss.
My song is one of sad times filled with pain and hurt, dedication is a luxury kept from me
Musical accompaniment to my heart is your words, we can never be
As your heart submits to your mind, the minds of others to decide on yours.
It hurts me more to see you shamed as we can hold, kiss and touch though we cannot
And the only time we now see our hearts wish’s is when I see you in a dream
Touching my soul with a kiss, giving it life, to love you once again.
poem by Daniel Laurence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dead Friend
I.
Gone, O gentle heart and true,
Friend of hopes foregone,
Hopes and hopeful days with you
Gone?
Days of old that shone
Saw what none shall see anew,
When we gazed thereon.
Soul as clear as sunlit dew,
Why so soon pass on,
Forth from all we loved and knew
Gone?
II.
Friend of many a season fled,
What may sorrow send
Toward thee now from lips that said
'Friend'?
Sighs and songs to blend
Praise with pain uncomforted
Though the praise ascend?
Darkness hides no dearer head:
Why should darkness end
Day so soon, O dear and dead
Friend?
III.
Dear in death, thou hast thy part
Yet in life, to cheer
Hearts that held thy gentle heart
Dear.
Time and chance may sear
Hope with grief, and death may part
Hand from hand's clasp here:
Memory, blind with tears that start,
Sees through every tear
All that made thee, as thou art,
Dear.
IV.
True and tender, single-souled,
What should memory do
Weeping o'er the trust we hold
True?
Known and loved of few,
But of these, though small their fold,
Loved how well were you!
Change, that makes of new things old,
Leaves one old thing new;
Love which promised truth, and told
True.
V.
Kind as heaven, while earth's control
Still had leave to bind
Thee, thy heart was toward man's whole
Kind.
Thee no shadows blind
Now: the change of hours that roll
Leaves thy sleep behind.
Love, that hears thy death-bell toll
Yet, may call to mind
Scarce a soul as thy sweet soul
Kind.
VI.
How should life, O friend, forget
Death, whose guest art thou?
Faith responds to love's regret,
How?
Still, for us that bow
Sorrowing, still, though life be set,
Shines thy bright mild brow.
Yea, though death and thou be met,
Love may find thee now
Still, albeit we know not yet
How.
VII.
Past as music fades, that shone
While its life might last;
As a song-bird's shadow flown
Past!
Death's reverberate blast
Now for music's lord has blown
Whom thy love held fast.
Dead thy king, and void his throne:
Yet for grief at last
Love makes music of his own
Past.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
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poem by Michael Silver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad of the Broken Heart
Standing on one side of the bridge
You on the other
Burned at both ends
of the times we spent with one another
As the bridge slowly crumbles apart
A melody starts to play
The Ballad of the Broken Heart
Reminscing of a secret love affair
Wallowing in the pits of despair
This isn't the ending
Its a brand new start
As a melody begins to play
The Ballad of the Broken Heart
For a wounded heart time does not heal
Only gives it a better conceal
In the beginning like a flower our love arose
To end this chapter
The book will close
From within, the music will start
Hail! Sing, sing aloud to the melody
The Ballad of the Broken Heart
poem by Carl Leiland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As the Edge of the Moon
I have stained my soul with scarlet colors, thus this work
The ballad of merlot and mandolins, the bliss is midnight blue
The deep black is but her hungry delight
Thus I dye her desires a darker scarlet within the foils of my flesh
As the edge of the moon watched over our swallowing dance
Evening had long settled into the wit of the light and slow rain
Distinct in the thought of our lust consuming the blackberry wine
As the bottle overflowed throughout the frolic of our ecstasy
Her heart is but scarlet colored, her kisses are like tight fisted flowers
Her gentle hands in the threshold and the deep suite waters
The sharp love that blots my soul somewhat like her devilish shadow
Thereafter, my emotions are stained with her sweet scarlet
The bare bedroom in the pulp and the deep black music
As I come to bed where she lays sweet and in favor
I have stained my soul with her scarlet color, thus this work
Evening having settled into the song as the edge of the moon
poem by Jason PraTT
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A battle between soul and death
My body has become a battle field,
Battle, a fierce battle, I cried in pain,
As death comes and fights to pull the soul,
Nothing happens as death has no gain.
I have been a heart and gastric patient,
My body burns with a wound of heart,
And my heart burns with it's own light,
But soul and death wrestle part to part.
A great war took place in my body,
Death violently ordered to the soul to surrender,
But soul is not ready to surrender then war began,
Many souls and deaths saw the war and wonder.
What about my body? I shouted at them,
My body has been burning since long,
Listening this, death laughed and soul hit it,
Soul told me that “death is going to do you wrong”.
You go away otherwise the death harms you,
Soul strongly pushed to the death and saved me,
I forever pray to God to give strength to my soul,
I am very thankful to my soul to protect me like a bee.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music (The Song)
It plays to my heartstrings...
It is the music to my ears-
...It is the tender love song of my life-
And the refelections of my years...
All in a simple sweet melody-
...The rhythm and harmony flow-
Yes, dancing at my heartstrings-
...The memories, they come and they go...
It is the music of my lifetime-
...It is the gentle refrain, in my head-
'A play it to my soul song'
...Down the road of love-
...I am led...
It is a once, in a lifetime song-
...Forever growing, it is, in me-
It is, a broken heart tune-
...And a haunting melody...
It is the songs of our Nation-
...The Anthems and Hymns...
It is the: 'Glory to the World My Friend, ' song-
...That has become, way too dim...
It is the 'Light of My Life' ballad-
...In perfect melodic harmony-
It is the say it all: 'With Words and Music'
...It is the Best that Music Can Be...
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out of the Deep
Thy soul grows silent, when its accents are
Disturbed, and low thy heart, when dark a burden
Has deeply covered it. Thy soul is proud.
When thou hast made it free of wants and wishes,
Then art thou rich.
Our life is seldom open,
For love and fear have shut it. When we lay
It open, there is nought to show in it,
But wounds and burning pain.
Mysterious is
Thy power, great as it may be, a trial
Of thine own will and of the curb upon
Thyself; mysterious to thyself, the more,
The greater it has grown, surrounded as
We are by fear and pain.
And when the soul
Lifts up her voice and speaks, then must she go
Against the will of people, not her own,
The will that is herself, the soul's own might.
When heaven asks, we work with joy, a dear
Beloved business put into our hands.
We dream at first to make it daintily,
Like Nature's work, so careful and so rich,
And then the dream becomes a wish, then changes
To action, to be called by us our own
Free will. And when we feel alleviated
Of suffering, we call it hope. In each
Hard battle of our life, free will is quite
The same, unbending and undone, and gave
Us never yet a ray of satisfaction,
Nor of real joy, the bleeding conqueror.
And hope is e'er the same. It dwelleth not
In hearts that are too great for hope, too great
For wishes, and that fearless never ask
Why will is but obedience, power worthless,
The greatest strength a reed, and thought an echo.
Great hearts are free of either want or wish;
They may be proud and richly clothe themselves
In lofty, burdenless, mysterious Silence.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Man Like Me
Should you ever meet
A man like me
On a road or some busy street
With a back so scared
Head bent low
And eyes that have seen defeats
With a soul that fight the past
Where sorrow's play their broken harps
A living death, and all that's left
It this man with a broken heart
My family? Well? They've no right
To judge, or critize, nor even condemn
Because, sometimes their actions
Are just like them
Oh such careless steps, such thoughtless deeds
Oh how my misery starts
For I have faced, so much abuse
And that's what gave this broken heart
So humble, I think you could be
When I come passing by
For even the greatest...(God) ...
Was never so great
That He didn't stop to help and cry
I've tried not to lose my faith
I've held to love, all my life
Even when among all that strife
So even when sorrow throws, all those poison darts
Or when I've seen hope, all gone
I've walked alone and continued on
With broken heart
My family you've never walked in
this man shoes
Or seen the things, these eyes
have seen
Nor stood and watched with helpless hand
While the heart inside of you dies and stings
I never was a rich man, or master painter
Or had any words of art
Yet I still claim
I Love you same
Even with this broken heart
Life sometimes been so terribly cruel
There was a time I even prayed for death
There was a time of pain... when pain...
Was with every pain filled breath
So I say help that man, or friend
Or even your brother, along this road
It matters not... from where you start
For it was God...whom made you
To help that man, with a broken heart
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Repeat That, Repeat
Repeat that, repeat,
Cuckoo, bird, and open ear wells, heart-springs, delightfully sweet,
With a ballad, with a ballad, a rebound
Off trundled timber and scoops of the hillside ground, hollow hollow hollow ground:
The whole landscape flushes on a sudden at a sound.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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