Slowly falling…
Down…
Down…
Down…
Down a deep dark hole…
Knowing not where,
Or even how.
Only wishing for a bottom.
Sinking…
Sinking deep within…
No light.
Not even a crack
Like under a door.
Which way is it?
Up…
Down…
Left…
Right…
And where?
Yesterday…
Today…
Tomorrow…
Falling…

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Tomorrow-
The man was going to be someone.
Tomorrow-
He was going to have it all:
The money and the fame.
Tomorrow-
He would do his homework.
Tomorrow-
He would mow the lawn.
Tomorrow-
He would clean his room.
Tomorrow…
Tomorrow is here,
But where is the man
The one who said he’d do it
Tomorrow-
He is trapped in Yesterday…

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Through the night it calls for me.

Haunting me.
Wanting me to grab hold.
It pulls me in through it's door.
I'm inside,Unsure of where.
But on a wall in front of me reads:
"You're in love"

                                                        Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Rain falls down on my face.
As I look to the stars,
darkness covers my world.
I look for my identity.
Wind blows toward me blocking
my pathway to the future.
Then I look back and remember
all the moments we shared.

Now only a memory.
I remember your face.
Eyes sparkle blue
like the sun glistening off of the ocean.
Your smile makes the rain and wind die.
And the sun shines once more.
But in reality the rain is continuous
and endless like the stars in the sky.
It falls down hard,
and I drown in it.

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Why does the sun set so quickly,
and the moon rise up to take it's place?
The days are going by.
Each day is a birthday candle,
lit, then blown out.
This second here now gone.
Why can't it stop just long enough to grab hold of?
What is now is now then,
and what was then falls back to form now?
The days are circles.
Days to nights.
Nights to days.
Falling with each grain of sand
In the hour glass of life

Poetry © by Mark Ballard