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Normal Topic Ballad ~ Form of the Month, October 2009 (Read 145 times)
Just_Daniel
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Diane, Wally-Wally, Carol...
Reply #8 - Oct 16th, 2009 at 11:04am
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Diane, remind me not to cross you...
fearing for my life;
I'd rather stick around awhile
to have time with my wife.

And Wally, your Beast seems quite formidable;
I don't think that I'd like to race.
My mind and my eyes cannot shuffle so fast,
and my heart couldn't handle the pace.

While Tayla-Paige is more my speed,
I think that even she
runs faster than my mind can go...
but I'd let her run free.

Now Carol, welcome to the thread,
and may you enter more
this learning place where you can shed
your cloak for days of yore.

deLighting that you all have come
to share your skill and wit.
Continue please while I'm away;
I've hardly time to sit!

Lightly for now, Daniel  Cool
  
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Carol
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Re: Ballad ~ Form of the Month, October 2009
Reply #7 - Oct 9th, 2009 at 4:46pm
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This offering does not match the eloquent wit everyone else is exhibiting, but it helped me to become familiar with the form.


Ballad

I sit to write a ballad strong
just like in days of yore
but my post-modern mind demands
things never said before

For now’s my time to “strut and fret”
and make some words my own
I live, I breathe, I eat the fruits
of seeds others have sown

And so I take my place in line
with all those who have sought
to move the earth and shake the stars
with only words and thought

With keyboard, spell check and web tools
I try to reach new heights
but still my words have no more grace
that what is mine, by rights.

Carol Casey,  October, 2009
  
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Thoth
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Re: Ballad ~ Form of the Month, October 2009
Reply #6 - Oct 3rd, 2009 at 6:04am
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And to combat Danl's monopoly, I wrote a real one (about my baby Granddaughter);

Tayla-Paige Austin (at 13 months)

One micro sized tornado comes 
a tearing through the town,
it’s just our little Tayla-Paige 
clothed in her dressing gown.

One tiny foot has slipper on, 
the other's likely bare -
Quick, Granny, hide the breakables! 
and things for which you care.

Lock all the kitchen cupboards well, 
and batten up the door,
for Havoc's left the lounge a mess 
with toys strewn on the floor.

Unruffled, Tayla runs amuck
while other babies crawl,
although she doesn't talk a lot, 
expression says it all,

Each item found is tasted first, 
each toilet roll un-scrolled
the dog’s dish banged to make a din – 
the biscuits sucked and rolled.

Then outside to the sand pit, 
her favourite place for play
where getting wet and dirty 
amuses her all day.

When Father's late her Granny's nerves 
are shattered by the time,
poor Nana needs a tipple of 
some medication wine.

If Grandpa keeps the sister quiet 
with books and fairy tales,
perhaps she'll fall asleep at last 
before the day derails.

In dreams, exciting places wait
For Tayla to explore;
our fearless little warrior 
who’s always seeking more.

Toddling down the passage way, 
my heart clasped in her hand;
“Please take me with you Tayla-Paige,
to your dream wonderland.”
         

© WW Schwim                  
« Last Edit: Oct 4th, 2009 at 8:39pm by Thoth »  
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Of desert and Mountain

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Re: Ballad ~ Form of the Month, October 2009
Reply #5 - Oct 3rd, 2009 at 5:44am
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(My fav of all time is Cooleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner ; http://etext.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Rime_Ancient_Mariner.html")

I'm not sure if this qualifies as a ballad, it's what I call an anapaestic ballad.
Just being a paest!

Wally


Master of the Beast

Made NOT for the man on a Sunday ride 
in his jeans all fashionably torn,
and NOT for the chrome loving gent set astride
his “hog” on a warm summer’s morn.

Exec’ with his Porsche and his bucks to burn
couldn’t live for a day with The Beast,
nor youth with his “balls of steel” and a yearn
to be seen with winners deceased.

A waved checkered flag is her glory and grace 
she is honed to be one with the road. 
So nimble and light with power and pace
the track is her only abode. 

Obeying no master, abiding no law 
yet she warms to a passion for speed.
An angel of death she’ll howl and soar,
her own silver wing will accede.

I know of a twisty mountain pass
where the Beast and myself could play,
we’d fly as one like a bullet from a gun,
and I’d die with a smile that day. 

© Wally Schwim    June 2009
« Last Edit: Oct 3rd, 2009 at 6:15am by Thoth »  
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diehard
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evolving always

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Re: Ballad ~ Form of the Month, October 2009
Reply #4 - Oct 3rd, 2009 at 4:57am
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Dan'l, no way! Three all at once?  All I could muster was this ONE :


Hey! Watchit!

Of interest if you’re int’rested
in changes that annoys
Me frequently gets run into
by some rude girls or boys

It happens in the groc’ry store
however wide the aisles
with hurry as the prime mover
and frowns instead of smiles.

Were I a delicate old dame
with frail or tender bones
I’d prob’ly fall down on the floor
and out with moans and groans

Instead I often say aloud
"Well ex-cuse me, you there"
But even if I’ve hollered it
I see they wouldn’t care

What’s happ’nin’ nowadays with kids
(cell-phoned and ipod choked)
can they not see there’re humans here
that they’ve knocked down or poked?

Next time one bumps me I’m afraid
I’ll yell four-letter words
to see if possibly they’ll think
to stop acting like t**ds.
 
Carver Adams 10/01/09
  
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Just_Daniel
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Clerics' Car
Reply #3 - Oct 2nd, 2009 at 6:00am
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Clerics’ Car

This Priest and Rabbi got along
just famously, they say.
For many years they’d shared so much.
Great neighbors!  Then one day . . .

they jointly bought a car, to share
its use, whate’er the need.
That afternoon the Rabbi watched:
Car-dousing?!  “Why, indeed?”

“I’m blessing it,” the Priest explained.
“Ah, yes!” Old Rab approved.
Hacksaw in hand, Rab joined the Priest
and tailpipe’s end removed!

© Daniel J Ricketts 15 March, 2002
  
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Just_Daniel
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Grandma's Cake
Reply #2 - Jul 28th, 2009 at 7:29am
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Grandma's Cake

"How 'bout a swig of cooking oil?"
said Grandma to the boy.
He'd come with Everything's gone wrong!
school, fam'ly, health, my toy!


Yuck!  "Give those two raw eggs a try?"
Gross, Grandma!   he replied.
"Some baking soda, sifted flour?
Salt?”  NO!   he loudly cried.

"Son, all those things taste bad alone.
Together, baked, they're cake!
I'm guessing when it's all cooled down
and frosted, some you'll take?"

"God cares about your troubles, lad.
He sifts, stirs, heats up, frosts.
He knows we're mixed up, poured out, hot.
He knows how much it costs."

"He works all thing together for
the good of those He's loved.
He's called us, destined us ahead.
You think you're pushed and shoved?

"Not e'er without His recipe.
He'll always make us rise!
Your photo's in his wallet, son.
See, you're your Father's prize!

"Let's take a walk and see the flowers
He sent you overnight.
And later on we'll share His sunset,
cake-in-hand.  All Right?"

© Daniel J. Ricketts 10 March 2001 -Rev. 05 April 2005
Thoughts on Romans 8:28

  
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Just_Daniel
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Ballad o' Chevy Chase
Reply #1 - Jul 28th, 2009 at 7:24am
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Ballad o’ Chevy Chase

A lull had settled o’er my Chevy; 
had I scorned its voice?
Sure I’d complained about its tapping;
it ain’t no Rolls Royce…

but why here… now… while darkness rises
upward from that creek
where wagons bogged decades ago
whose wheels they say still creak?

Team drivers lost their lives down there
nor could they save their ass
from drowning ‘cause o’ rocks too sharp
and flow too swift to sass.

Will my brake hold while I get help,
or will my buggy too
slide in and bounce away all night
t’ward distant ocean blue?

© Daniel J Ricketts 22 Feb 2004
  
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Jess
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Befuddled,            
                    always!

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Ballad ~ Form of the Month, October 2009
Nov 23rd, 2003 at 9:42pm
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Form of the Month for October 2009:

Ballad

Ballads fall into two categories, “street” and “traditional”.  It is hard to say which of these styles is the older of the two, but it appears that the traditional ballad, which has its roots in the illiterate, oral, traditions of the country, may be slightly older. Minstrels, bards and itinerant storytellers would have recited these poems on feast/holy days in small communities or in the poorer quarters of towns and cities.  The street ballad seems to have evolved to pander to a growing educated class.  As the middle/tradesman class grew wealthy, they were able to swell the ranks of the literate.  With education, particularly literacy, considered an unnecessary luxury at the time, the well to do used it to distinguish themselves from the impoverished underclass.  They accomplished this by refining ballad verse and printing it so that an individual could advertise their wealth.  It should be mentioned that the nobility also had a stake in the evolution of the street ballad, but they were not the driving force behind its refinement.  They had little need to separate themselves from the masses, and, as a result, their contributions were mostly refinements that reflected the quality of performer who provided the evenings entertainment.

Very few ancient ballads have survived into the modern era.  “Traditional” ballads were passed through the generations orally.  Few survived the ravages of misfortune, poor memory, and fashion to make it to the modern day.  “Street” ballads hardly faired better.  Although they were printed, it was usually on single sheets of paper of the poorest quality.  Paper demonstrated education and wealth, but it was an extremely costly product.  High quality paper was a luxury that the market could not bear.

There is little foundational difference between the two types of ballad.  The main differences are in their content. The traditional ballad tended to utilize simpler language, its themes were tragic, romantic, or heroic (if not all three), and the characters and actions were detail rather than content oriented.  Think of the last this way, traditional ballads preferred the gory details but had rather wooden archetypal characters. Street ballads were just the opposite. They tend to utilize courtly language and phrasing, the stories were much more realistic and un-heroic, and the street ballads tend to follow a less frenetic, more leisurely, pace. The depth of the street ballad has made it the predominant form employed since the Middle Ages. 
An aspect of all ballads is their lyrical quality. Many are, or were, set to music. Since they are meant to tell a story, this means that the balladic style is rather plain and unadorned.  Creativity would have made ballads difficult to understand when chanted, accompanied by music, or sung.

Ballads are composed of quatrains of alternating lines of iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter.  This means that the stanzas are composed of 4 lines of alternating 8 and 6 syllables.  The iambic meter is only a guide, and is/was frequently thrown off to accommodate lyrical requirements. Ballads tend to rhyme "abcb" with "a" and "c" sometimes forming a partial rhyme. In modern ballads the rhyme scheme will often follow an "abab" pattern, although this is mainly a means, read cheat, for creating a lyrical quality to the poem without having to provide a score.  Modern ballads can also drop the strict reliance on tetrameter and trimeter, but they try to adhere to repeating pattern of common feet.

Literary example: Henry Longfellow’s “The Wreck of the Hesperus” ... and here's a fine audio of the reading it from the Hesperus!

A sample stanza: 

A youth clad bold in Lincoln green, 
Merry as morning sun, 
Steals hushed beneath the ancient boughs, 
His fame as yet unsung.

« Last Edit: Oct 2nd, 2009 at 5:52am by Just_Daniel »  
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