What is a ballad?
Basically, a ballad is a type of poem, which tells a story in the form of verse. Back in the times ballads were set to music. A ballad can be motivational, emotional and fictional, it can cover topic such as love, death and fiction.
there are three types of a ballad;
- Traditional Ballad
- Broadside Ballad
- Literary Ballad
- Contains four lines in one stanza
- Contains a rhyme scheme ABCB
- Is written in common meter, which consists of alternating lines of iambic tetrameter with lines of iambic trimeter.
- Tells a story
A tiny goldfish swimming in a glass bowl. |
Goldfish
So
gracefully it goes tip to bottom,
The lithe fragile frame of the goldfish,
Labyrinthine like a penguin it waddles;
When the cat’s paw reaches for a scrumptious dish.
The
milieu here is serene not like the world,
The world is huge, my little home is so,
My chants and songs are just bubbly words,
The world is round, my tiny kin is though.
I float
and float day and night,
With a million obscurities just like my treasure,
In solitude like a lonely kite,
Wandering as every instance is my leisure.
Why I
drift, go round and then crash,
Now I wander and know the reason,
In the globlet of the unforgiving glass,
Why with surreal forces I am imprisoned?
I know
sins are flaws,
But I never knew flaws are not sins,
Maybe I am sinless that is sin, or,
Maybe because I’m the bird of the sea and fly with fins.
Being a
fish in the corner I lie,
But I never lie my”self’s fish”,
The shooting stars are my only hope,
They heal my scars I shall make a wish.
My hope
of gold will never rust,
Wishes do come true when arrives the day,
My doubts of ivory still grow like ivy,
Soon the sun shall rise, then let me rest just say!
The lithe fragile frame of the goldfish,
Labyrinthine like a penguin it waddles;
When the cat’s paw reaches for a scrumptious dish.
The world is huge, my little home is so,
My chants and songs are just bubbly words,
The world is round, my tiny kin is though.
With a million obscurities just like my treasure,
In solitude like a lonely kite,
Wandering as every instance is my leisure.
Now I wander and know the reason,
In the globlet of the unforgiving glass,
Why with surreal forces I am imprisoned?
But I never knew flaws are not sins,
Maybe I am sinless that is sin, or,
Maybe because I’m the bird of the sea and fly with fins.
But I never lie my”self’s fish”,
The shooting stars are my only hope,
They heal my scars I shall make a wish.
Wishes do come true when arrives the day,
My doubts of ivory still grow like ivy,
Soon the sun shall rise, then let me rest just say!
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