Best Banshees Poems
Inexorable Want
How do I find
These sentences
Written as they are
In ephemeral ink
Indelible lines
Inscribed in my being
Spectral yearnings
It crashes me
To rocks
In unanswerable waves
Swimming tidal
To the inexorable
Yet
The implacable distance
Confounds me
Longing vent me no more
In twists and turns
And unmade beds
Where crumpled kisses
Dream on hot soaked cushions
Leave me not
To the ever restless
Fumblings
Quiet unheard of whisperings
Of her name
How do I find
The collective alphabetic
Of love unknown
Yet
Divulged by these
The screeching banshees
Of petal falling
Corpuscle red
They flow through my blood
Unbidden
Unwarranted
Unwanted
And so desperate
How do they find me
On such a precarious brink
With the voltage
And permission of electricity
Rapine in all my singularity
Hurricane she batters at me
For all my will to resist
I am
Weak
I cannot
Help me please
Lest I drown dark
Brooding in forever’s need
She is my quiet
And ever sun set calmed
Sea
And I
I am a tempest
Left to bellow and blow
Inside an hour glass
In the confines of my soul
Help me please
Save me from this void ripping
As she shreds every day
Every hour
With my unrequited returning
To her arms
Save me
For I have found
My life
My soul companion
So far from me
On some so strange a horizon
That the distance
Between us
Could prove to be
My
Undoing
Categories:
banshees, loveme, me,
Form:
Free verse
Halloween
Beneath the moon and the stars so bright,
hideous creatures born of the night.
Their screams of horror and wailing fear,
for we are coming and we are here.
These fleeting spirits take dark winged flight,
calling to the heavens spreading fright.
They are ghosts, goblins, banshees, and more,
hordes will come and pound upon your door.
And if you dare to open it wide,
welcome these spirits to step inside.
With bags held open each girl and boy,
chime trick or treat with smiles filled with joy.
All hallows eve has come it is here,
with children laughing and children’s cheer.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Categories:
banshees, children, halloween,
Form:
Sonnet
Version 1
Broken souls and disillusioned dreams. Broken toys and angels without wings
Weep for the fallen brothers and infants without mothers
Pained tears encompass the empyreal rays. Pompous worlds painted in a destitute haze
Transmogrified in the iron flood. Transmogrified in the spilled blood
Frightened children flee from the impending devouring wails of the banshees
Captured children drown in the seas for the coming spring's garden poppies
Choked whispers, within frozen forgotten tale’s, the phantom spirits lurking behind the veils
The strong beguiled yearn for their thirst, obtaining the hero’s, plagued curse
A solitary cane and an abandoned house assembled upon soot
A dying hearth and a trembling shadow with crushed raspberries underfoot
Greet the honor, greet the madness, beat the dishonor, win the chalice
Defeat the grandest, apparatus, acquire all the treasure's honored status
Version 2
Broken souls and mutilated dreams
Broken toys and angels without wings
Weep for the vanished fallen brothers
And children without hope or mothers
Pained tears encompass the solar rays
A pained world in a destitute haze
Transmogrified, engulfed by the flood
Swept away and drowned in the spilled blood
Panic children flee from shadows
Spoils feed the seas of young willows
Choking whispers, frozen buried tale
The phantom spirits behind the veil
Strong beguiled only yearn for their thirst
Obtaining the hero's plague's cursed
Wooden cane and the house build on soot
Dying hearth and trembling bloody foot
Greet the honor, greet the madness
Beat the dishonor, win the chalice
Defeat the grandest, apparatus
Acquire the treasured honored status
Updated 5/14/2019
Categories:
banshees, horror, loss, pride, soldier,
Form:
Dreams herein, our progeny, still birth sometimes inside,
blind and rigor twisted, formless foetuses upon
the terrace steps where innocence bled and occasionally died
screeching for salvation when every shred of hope was gone.
Yet also soared in glorious flight, monstrous span
of righteous flapping wings in the stadium sky,
drummed thunderclaps, exultant fear insurgently began
inflaming souls and lifting living spirits heaven high.
Externalised, the primal chants and streaming scarves,
the goading, cheering, praising adrenaline infusion,
the fluid rush of gameplay, of two dovetailed halves
painted on an emerald canvas with fleet of foot profusion.
In a cloud of air horn banshees and muddied leather vapour
where studded feet slap pigskin like a hated face
spins a salt and vinegar smudged result newspaper
telling tales of holy triumph or damnation and disgrace.
Abused patriotism, the easy asylum of the scoundrel cur
whose omnipresent wield of slick wet Stanley blade slashes
carves desired resurgence of the way that things once were,
for Nazi flags, stiff arm salutes and pencil black moustaches.
Yet overriding all, the team and the game, the beautiful game
and the chasm rift between each side as deep and wide as forever,
the team is all, all is the team and will always be the same
and whatever divides team from team let no man draw together.
Categories:
banshees, passion, people, philosophy, sports,
Form:
Verse
Frolicking through the woods pale light, elves do sing and fairies delight.
Searching for a hidden place, where pixies sing and children race.
Do beware the wicked trolls, who guard the bridge and steal your gold.
Cross the bridge and you shall find, the hidden gates once lost in time.
Read the runes in elven tongue, and the gates will open to a world still young.
Once inside you shall see, a mystical place that still remains free.
Enchanted queens with beautiful faces, who dance with grace in firm embraces.
Leprechauns count their pots of gold as wizards spin their tales of old.
Do not venture beyond this place, or goblins and orcs shall scar your face.
Winged dragons above they soar, breathing fire and loud they roar.
Venture not into the night, for banshees scream and cause you fright.
Witches mix their evil brews, and werewolves hunt in bloody broods.
So stay within the gated realm, where pleasures are many and beauty abounds.
3/8/2013
Categories:
banshees, fantasy,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
A time for werewolves, zombies, bones,
For spiders, vampires, ghosts and bats,
Blood curdling shrieks and chilling moans,
Of walking corpses, witches’ cats,
See scuttling beetles, ghouls and rats.
Old warlocks chant and banshees cry,
The carved out pumpkins light the way,
And broomsticks soar across the sky,
As shrivelled mummies flaunt decay:
It’s Halloween or All Souls’ Day.
Categories:
banshees, fantasy, halloween,
Form:
Dizain
In a house of cards
in torrential rain
social media overload
floods my brain.
Wave after wave
you feel the pain.
Heading down the hallway
into the dark,
the imminent
and dissonant
hellhounds bark.
From the penthouse of hypocrisy
I jumped onto a train
Heading nowhere and arriving too soon
I watch as a little girl forever reaches
for her red balloon.
The Queen of hearts has her axe to grind
Her targets locked.
She rears back
Lowers her blade
As another head drops
We’re well away from this blood lust fray
It’s just a matter of time
til the skeletal banshees and their vigilantes
wave red flags
for their divergent paths
Driving away
ALL that is meek
ALL that is good
Running in circles
forever misunderstood
In a black glass
Chipped and cracked
You can see them still
Never approaching
Never fulfilled
In a timeless dance
They writhe and flay
This storys’ musical refrain
Frozen silent
Their world will ever remain.
Free Verse Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor Joseph May
Categories:
banshees, character, community, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
The Amadawn ‘ave played the joker
for the Good folks fairy Coort
‘T was they ‘ave egged the paper birches
an’ touch’d the scare crow’s stalks.
They ‘ave giv'n leerin pumpkin ‘eads
to Dullahan black ‘eadless ‘orse.
Tied the liein’ Leprechain’s tongues.
Changed the dread Pooka’s course.
Stol'n the noble Banshees keen moan.
an ‘idden ‘er bone white comb.
They ‘ave lured two changeling lovers
to Red Man’s bloody ‘ome.
N’er free since June, the jesters play
their brash tricks on Samhain’s eve.
Stealin’ all the gifts left fur the dead
‘neath mournin’ mortals trees.
N’t till the sunrise will they lave off
wid ‘ the Leprechauns in toe.
And sadly scurry ‘omeward bound
sure laven us all alone!
Categories:
banshees, adventure, fantasy, funny
Form:
Quatrain
summer rain
cotton candy clouds
whispy trails like spun sugar ~
sly mists mask the skies
muggy breathless air
leaves hang limp upon their boughs ~
mute the summer song
heat in mirages
shimmering waves sweltering ~
sweet star jasmine blooms
winds like banshees rise
hypnotic dust shadows spin ~
crickets take cover
monsoon clouds rumble
dark humid fury gathers ~
lightning waits to strike
thunder bumpers swell
full of humid heaviness ~
fevered fireballs flair
muggy raindrops fall
scent of rain on sidewalks
drought runs for its life.
8-1-22
Categories:
banshees, rain, storm, summer,
Form:
Haiku
Cardinal and the Rose
As greyness dyes white clouds
When icy fingers rattle wind chimes of icicles
A shiver rustles still meadows of frost bouquets;
Through brittle gales that howl
Like exiled banshees
A tiny golden cardinal seeks
The last yellow rose of summer
That still blooms in shades of sunlight,
In hues of joyful perfume,
To catch her falling petals etched in sunbeams
As the solstice savage delirium casts them
Into the consuming crystal fire of frost;
Before they whither into forgetfulness
This tiny symbol of devotion
Gathers memories of warm afternoons
To line her winter nest with petals of hope
And the fragrance of joy for golden fledglings
As gilded buds return on new stems
To repeat the cardinal’s warbling song.
1-5-22
Contest: Cardinal and the Rose
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Categories:
banshees, bird, devotion, rose, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Beltane’s Night
On the eve of Beltane
The Earth’s call rang across hill and heather, towards ford and cliff
From tree to river the door calls, spirits of earth so fair,
Heard by elf and pixie, awakening the dryads in their trees of old.
Summoning them with rallying cries, to the Seelie Queen in her halls of gold,
While she sits next to Unseelie King in his throne, surrounded by their faerie hoards.
Every day for seven, they war,
On Beltane they pause their unceasing battle, with laughter like glass,
They gather in hidden glen, all those ancient faerie that Midir feared among fair folk,
First came the Bean Sidhe, kings honor guard, followed by the royal house,
Then came the sylphs in their array of colour, and the Leanan Sidhe with their cloaks flowing in the wind
With the elven troops on stags, crowned with roses and thorns,
The goblins’ heave their swords for all to see, the most renowned of smiths.
They all answered to the Earth’s call on Beltane night,
Dancing round these poles brightly wrapped with flowers, with true self sparkling And bright reveling,
On Beltane’s mystic night.
*beltane- ancient holiday now known as may day sacred to druids and fairy worshipers.
*seelie- light fey,benevolent, kind and helpful to humans
*unseelie-dark fey malevolent, mischievous and cruel to human
*Midir- famous druid bard similar to Merlin or Finn maccool
*Bean Sidhe-(banshees)
*Leanan Sidhe ( Vampiric fairy muses)
Categories:
banshees, fairy,
Form:
Ballad
Legends speak of banshees of the blue briny deep, whom cast bewitching
Spells mesmerizing voice and song, beware youthful mariner for charms echoing
Beauty, may cause deceptions fall from grace, nay naivety’s innocence
Attracts creatures of passions folly!
In the Grecian headwaters of historical mystery, these damsels of seduction
Parlous feast on the souls of wayward men, who’s lustful desires are never
Satisfied by honest women of proper barring, or noble birth!
Blue eyed vixens with erotic convictions, are more to the liking of well
Traveled men of ill reputes fashion, yet these lashes lusts are only
After the flesh, bone and tasty marrow of the living, their bonus
Is deserts just reward, thy very soul’s possession!
Oh mother dearest, protect he the lads whom seek fortunes
Favors by sails cast unto destiny’s distant shores, for beyond
Lies the forbidden isles of temptation fiery, and none return
From the aquatic wilderness alive or whole again!
Mer-gypies nomadic beasts of reflected images of beauty,
Clinging unto the rocky craggy shores beguiling the unwary
Sailor, weaving enchantment’s enticing allure with promises
Of pleasures beyond the mortal experience!
Intensity’s emerald spheres pierce through the night, these
Seekers of vulnerability’s sinful, prayer by the light of the full
Moons illumination, that at sunsets rise no man or kindred’s
Son, has gone missing beneath twilights mystical essence,
Thus so be advised he must be lost at sea, is all that is said,
To a broken hearted mother, and a sweet darling left behind!
Cast off the docks of forget-me-knots remembrance, petals
Of sorrows tears, rose colored floating diamonds shed by
Longings embrace never to be fulfilled!
On isolation’s distant beach the jackals gather in a
Heckling breach delighting amongst the spoils of a
Crimson feast, singing the voyagers swan song,
Unto the cast a ways vanquished soul!
Legends speak of banshees of the blue briny deep, whom cast bewitching
Spells mesmerizing voice and song, beware youthful mariner for charms echoing
Beauty, may cause deceptions fall from grace, nay naivety’s innocence
Attracts creatures of passions folly!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
banshees, adventure, fantasy, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
"Razors in their Gloves"
Keep thy enemies close
befriend the smiling banshees
holding their cowboy guns
such beings in love with love
all’s fair in love and war
dripping honeyed lines
for greenants to walk along
truth be known they’ll be
back in the ring
before too long
kissing windy cheeks
shaking hands
with razors in their gloves
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Categories:
banshees, life, muse, satire,
Form:
Narrative
Ask not about what the future may bring.
Whether sorrow shall reign or happiness ring.
Breathe deeply the aroma from life's belfry.
WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE.
Seek not to know when death shall call.
Whether bells shall toll or cardinals sing.
Instead find joy in each moment's acme.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Think not about ghouls and banshees
Or wonder what makes hopes cloudy.
Rest your thoughts upon here and now.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Worry not about why bereavement calls.
Do not dwell on words of war.
And if at days start your mind seems clogged,
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Be happy enjoying life's fragrant…peace.
Turn long-term goals into shorter leaps.
Set life's table with roses and daisies
Then, wake up and smell the coffee.
Steadfastly time steals; days pass away.
And memories too soon fade as well.
Trust not what bouquet the future holds.
Wake up and smell the coffee, today.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
June 3, 2010
Poetic form: Carpe Diem (With a Kyrielle feel and a touch of rhyme…SMILES!)
Categories:
banshees, life, philosophyfuture,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Like a penny, lost and worthless, woman
mother, and buried within the origin pit, dark
she brought me like a Jezebel into her life of mourning
mistress of the stage and child to horror
born, and off he ran, forced flight my father, loss
the hussy dies but on Edgar lives in awe.
Blood and death and pain feed Poe’s awe.
Why she had done, what soul had she, this woman
leaving him a found fledgling of loss?
“Why, why, bring me into this hellish dark?”
Coal black the pit and pendulum of this zealot father’s horror
the devil’s drink brought penitence and forced, mourning.
“Bastard child!” his stepfather screamed in mourning
as his new Mother looked on in awe.
And, his new brother watched on in horror,
the lash was not spared nor kindness brought by woman.
In the starkness of his mind there was only dark.
Abandoned child, Poe, and his rescuers brought only loss.
“Run, leave, you villains all!” He cried. “There is only loss!”
So on, he wrote into the dark and mourning.
The ink the Prussian blue released the anguish his dark.
Intuition, and superstitious fright will feed him awe.
Cousin, sister, wife, would be his woman
the banshees cry, her bloody death became his horror.
“Alone, alone…” The corbies’s caw brings horror,
but for the devil’s drink, he’s naught but loss........
“Lenore…..” He’ll wall his tainted heart away from woman
and make his blasted soul the start of mourning.
“To hell with you!” He screams at those in awe
of his blank and burned out hulk of dark.
Bricked in or deep within the ripest dark...
“God, so alone……….” He hides in horror,
forlorn, depraved and not at all in awe.
For there is no romance found in loss
no beauteous bounty in the dross of mourning,
no family, friend or wife not tainted, born from woman.
So, Poe lives and dies in awe of the dark.
Where woman’s deepest depths bring only horror
and loss is all he knows in light of mourning.
Categories:
banshees, angst, caregiving, childhood, death,
Form:
Sestina