Banshee Blues

Gold cherry

By Philip Sidney

Mon, 14 Nov 2016
  • 2758 reads
11 comments
 

We walked by the river in the green of our sun,

we bathed in dry leaves beneath the red of our sun,

you left me bone cold with my senses undone.

 

You stole away in the grey mist of fresh gloam,

your call like a crake cracked the glaze of the gloam,

I drifted on water laced white with spun spume.

 

I watched silver light slip through fingers of trees,

I held stars in my mouth as they dropped from a tree,

It motioned its limbs and called me banshee.

 

I forfeited yellow and the lime of new days,

I cared little for life or the passing of days

I lay in the ash of our once dazzling blaze,

 

ice burned in my throat and silenced my wails,

mute notes tried to find you but were lost with no scale.

Certificate 12
Poem

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Beautiful imagery in this poem Phillip - bursting with son et lumiere 

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

Good to read a rhyming poem from you, lovely atmosphere

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you for the cherries :) 

And thank you for reading and your lovely comments, insert, Vera and Rosa. smiley

Submitted by celticman on

we, you and then, I, there's a cry of where did it grow and the banshee begin to grow? 

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

I guess we've all got a bit of banshee in us, thanks for reading celticman.smiley

Submitted by sean mcnulty on

Now that's what I call poetry.

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you so much Sean. :)

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day!

Please share/retweet if you like it too

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you so much for the pick! smiley

Submitted by Deliberately Ev... on

What a clever use of language - you really get to feel all the senses.

The beat of your heart is the mellifluent rhythm to my soul.

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Reminds me of the paintings of Vlaminck it is so saturated with colour, particularly liked the line about catching raindrops from leaves. Also the playing in dry leaves. There is a ditch in the woods near me where my son used to roll about like a seal in a sea of leaves. Every line makes me wish I had the skill to paint the image it evokes