Song picture
Banshees
Comment Share
Single   $0.75
Song with orchestral background. See lyrics for the poem it is based on.
vocal sixties protest poem
Artist picture
Contemporary classical, new age, acoustic piano music AND SONGS!
I didnt discover I could write music until I was nearly forty. Those were my road warrior days, and there was a hotel in Atlanta with a piano in the atrium where I used to give impromptu concerts. My musical training was as a classical pianist, and I thought of my music then as being in that genre (although they were very popular. People used to hang off the balconies in the evening listening to me play).. When I retired, I started to write novels. When I published the first one, I mentioned in the biography that I was also a composer. On a whim, I recorded some of my music and sent it to the editor. Shes a big rock fan, but she loved my soothing piano music. So, here are some pieces for you to (hopefully) enjoy. You can find my novels, also, under my pen name (W Richard St. James) at clublighthousepublishing.com . Youll see that the music may be mellow, but the books are very spicy!
Song Info
Charts
Peak #856
Peak in subgenre #29
Author
W. Richard St. James
Rights
2015
Uploaded
May 17, 2015
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB 128 kbps 3:41
Story behind the song
I wrote this poem some time in college, either sophomore or junior year -- during the Cold War and the Vietnam War. The music was written in the late 80s, except for the trumpet part which I added now as part of the orchestration.
Lyrics
When will we meet again, If the banshee sirens wail, For their angry mourning never lies And their prophets never fail, What time or place can ever be For the sweet world of desire If the banshee sirens herald the rain Of the all consuming fire. When will we dream again, If the banshees scream their dirge And the blazing mushrooms sear the land, And the fires swell and surge, And the world of all our knowledge Is melted in to glass, A mirror for our illusions, And a seal to our past. And if the banshees do not wail Then surely i must go A way to some sad distant land Where the banshee bugles blow. From the shattered world of love, To the acrid world of hate, Compelled to take a pointless stand By an aimless whim of fate. When will we love again If the banshee siren screams, For the wailing of its mourning Is the dirge of all our dreams, And the passion of its weeping Is a mist of soft red rust, And the sorrow of its sleeping Is a swirl of sterile dust
Comments
Please sign up or log in to post a comment.