writing

History of the Ballad

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History of the Ballad

            The ballad began as a type of folk song that told an exciting story.  It is a popular poetic form and is widely used all of over the world.  The ballad is usually made up of simple words and rhyme.  Traditional ballads were first created in Great Britain six or seven centuries ago.  They were passed on by word of mouth; they usually rhyme and are divided into stanzas.  People would often make up and sing ballads in places that there was no reading or writing taught.

According to Francis James Child, author of the book The English and Scottish Ballads, in the “English-speaking world, some of the oldest ballads came from the ‘border country’ between England and Scotland where families lived in clans far from one another.  It was thought that this area consisted of fairies, witches and ghosts which all made excellent subjects for ballads.”  Child also explains about the time when the ballad in the form of song changed to that of a literary form, “When Scottish and English ballads were rediscovered by poets and scholars in the 18th Century, poets began to write literary ballads.”  These ballads were meant to be read and not sung but they still consisted of rhythmic and narrative structure and dramatic style.

Many ballads relate stories of tragedy, hardship and death while others relate to us stories about history, both the good and the bad.  Take, for example, the Ballad of Hector in Hades by Edwin Muir.  This is a poem, or ballad, that tells us the story of Hector, the leader of the Trojan army and his battle and demise against the infamous Greek hero Achilles.  The story is chilling and the visual images brought to life here will make your hair stand on end.  For example, the voice is that of Hector, it is as if he is telling us his recounting of that day after the fact.  It starts right off with, “Yes, this where I stood that day,” (the day of his death) and ends with the actual moment of his death,

Two shadows racing on the grass,

Silent and so near,

Until his shadow falls on mine.

And I am rid of fear.

This ballad not only tells an historical story, but it also tells of great tragedy and sorrow,material that most ballads are made up from.  Whether spoken out loud or written down and read, ballads always have vivid imagery that takes the audience into the story.

The traditional ballad has four-line stanza’s (quatrains); lines 1 and 3 have four beats; lines 2 and 4 have three beats and rhyme.

Lewis Carroll, however, was fond of the six-line adaptation of the ballad and used it very nicely in such poems as The Walrus and the Carpenter:

The sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might:

He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright-

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

This disturbing ballad was the story told to Alice by Tweedledee in Through the Looking Glass.  Although meant for children, this sequel to Alice in Wonderland, seems to be a bit more horrific in my personal opinion.  This particular ballad is morbid and it surprises me that its intent is meant for a younger audience.  However, it is a perfect example of a ballad that tells a story.  In the book, The Image of Childhood, Peter Coveney, describes both books of Alice to be “works of psychological fantasies” and he describes Carroll as being a “neurotic genius.”  I would say that the ballad, The Walrus and the Carpenter, support that idea.

Repetition is often common in the ballad and repeating entire stanza’s just like the chorus is repeated in songs, is seen.  Another common element of the ballad is dialogue between two people.  In the poem Ballad of Birmingham by Dudley Randall, we can see the dialogue between the mother and her young daughter and we can see an example of lines being repeated:

“Mother dear, may I go downtown

Instead of out to play,

And march the streets of Birmingham

In a Freedom March today?”

“No, baby, no, you may not go,

For the dogs are fierce and wild,

And clubs and hoses, guns and jails

Aren’t good for a little child.”

“But, mother, I won’t be alone.

Other children will go with me,

And march the streets of Birmingham

To make our country free.”

“No, baby, no you may not go,

For I fear those guns will fire.

But you may go to church instead

And sing in the children’s choir.”

This poem is also a perfect example of all the wonderful things that make up the ballad, including drama, vivid imagery, an exciting tale of a real event, historical reference, dialogue and unfortunately, tragedy.

Do not confuse the ballad with the ballade, pronounced “bah-LAHD.”  The ballade is a 14th and 15th Century French verse form with a heavy stress on rhyme and has strict rules on form.  The word ballade comes from an old French word that means “a dancing song”.

The ballad, in my opinion, is a form well liked by most readers, young and old.  The ballad is a story, and everyone likes a story.  Ballads have been written to cover many different people, young, old, old, rich, poor, heroes, villains and warriors.  The tales are of bravery, death, disaster, tragedy and adversity, all the things that keep a story alive and exciting to the reader.  Therefore, the appeal of the ballad covers many people and many generations.  The ballad itself had every element of a good story that includes dramatic characters, rich dialogue and climate endings.  Moreover, you know that a good story always makes for great reading and a great read can and will always be read repeatedly.

Works Cited and Referenced:

Child, Francis James. The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. New York: Dover Books, 1965.

Coveney, Peter. The Image of Childhood: The Individual & Society, a Study of Theme in English Literature. Gannon Distributing Co., 1957.

Polonsky, Marc. The Poetry Reader’s Toolkit: A Guide to Reading and Understanding Poetry, NTC Publishing Group, 1998.

Untermeyer, Louis. The Pursuit of Poetry. Simon and Schuster, 2000.

Time

/ poetryroad / 9 Comments

If the scales of time tip

do they have to fall over

or can we let them hover

ever so delicately

precariously

until we

decide

their fate?

Thank you Hyde Park Poetry for this award!

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If only we could tell time tomorrow…what an interesting time we would have!

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-perfect-poet-award-week-72.html

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I would like to nominate

http://elainedanforth.wordpress.com/2012/09/08/fall-into-anticipation/

Thinking

/ poetryroad / 27 Comments

Thinking

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He looks up from his work, dropping his pen

on the table.  He drinks ice-cold water from a cup.

His eyes move down to his chest; a thought! He unbuttons

his shirt.  It’s already hot.  Beads of sweat are like coins

on the skin, shining in the morning sun.  They snake

down the surface, cooling him.  Maybe

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he will leave his house today.  Outside, the bees

are already active, full of life.  The thought of it snakes

through his mind; he’d rather stay in his pen.

But he keeps thinking.  Again, he raises the cup

and feels the refreshing coldness.  It buttons

his mind for a moment, and his thoughts drop like coins

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on the tiled kitchen floor.  The coins

gaze back, their expressions as empty as his cup;

as blank as that sheet of paper.  The pen

thrives on actions, not thinking.  Be

patient!  Those thoughts will become words, snake-like

lines.  It’s still hot.  His mind is a misplaced button

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for a shirt, simply lost.  Buttons

seem to have a habit of that.  The buzzing bees

mock him with their productivity, yet the pen

will not create.  The faucet is tempting, like a snake

he once read about.  His mind is wandering again; the coins

lay there on the floor.  He pays them no mind.  The cup

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is empty still.  O! How he longs for it to be full again, the cup

on the table, and the one in his head.  Being

thirsty is quite an ordeal.  He imagines a coin-filled

fountain, sparkling with water and wishes.  The pen

is waiting.  He remembers the heat, but he buttons

his shirt regardless.  Thoughts snake

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through his mind, and the sweat no longer snakes

across his skin.  He is thinking.  Once again, the cup

is full.  He is at the fountain, casting his coins

away.  The floor is bare, as it should be.

Nothing is empty, order is restored.  Buttons

are accounted for.  He reaches for the pen.

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B. Moretti

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/

Yesterday I…

/ poetryroad / 15 Comments

Yesterday I…

Played in the sand

swam in my pool

laughed with my friends

began to dream

Yesterday I…

Went to a football game

met a cute boy

had my first crush

had my heart broken

Yesterday I…

Moved out on my own

worked three jobs

went to college

started to live my dream

Yesterday I…

Found my soul mate

moved out of state

said “Yes” to a proposal

forgot about my dream

Yesterday I…

Became half of a whole

welcomed a boy

then a sweet girl

remembered my dream

Yesterday I…

Went back to college

graduated with honors

began to write daily

stopped looking back

Today I…

Have two inspirations

memories to cherish

and a future

to look forward to.

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For Short Story Slam Week 8

Masterpiece of Silk

/ poetryroad / 34 Comments

Delicate is the silk

that takes shape

under the careful

manipulation

of its skillful creator.

Strong

is the trap

that tricks

its prey under

the disguise

of something

magical.

Clever is the

creature

that uses its glands

to weave a

meticulous

masterpiece

that is 

beautiful,

but

deadly.