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Poems by Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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An Irishman's Death

Tha cloods O' darkness drift in tae cover
tha eyes O' tha mortal, tha breath tae smother
An' tha soul cries humbly for its release
Radiantly it arises shinning brichtly this immortal Fleece.

It view it's mortal clay,nue aged an' worn
An' views tha spectical O'emotions,frae tha family torn
An' he feels tha licht O'life,
calling frae afar
amongst tha sacred jewels O' tha northern Pole Star.

An' a song lingers in tae grasp his ears
Its melody ancient an'soothing awa' a' his fears
As images gather aroun' him tae welcome him hame
Tae Munster O'Erin,tha bith place O' his name.

An' afor him arises fiel's O'emerald green
Wae gardens gallant an Lochs O' silver gleam
An' there within this gran vision O peace O' bliss
Comes tha images and forms O' his parents, that he dearly did miss.

An he comes tae meet all tha ancesters O'his race
Here within tha groves O'Munster this sacred place
An he enters tha gran halls O tha ancient hame
where stan tha Bards an Druids O celtic fame.

Here tis his hame, whare he kens all forms
here tis tha place free frae strifes viberant storms
Tae rest alas, within tha great mothers mighty womb
fearing nae mare Death's col' darkened tomb.

Sleeping wae his fathers in Heavens deepth O blue
In a place called Tir na Oge, tha hame O Celts--Like me an you.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Fa tha guilt they share

Aye think o this
When winter breezes blaws aroun'
whare silent thochts are filled wae gloom
and drifting words,they echo past
frae fearful man an fearful lass
In haunted hooses and misty lans
whare Ghosties an gobblins an unco bans
Pass atween this an theirs, that form
amidst tha thunders crashing storm.

Aye tucked up aroun yeer mithers apron
wae teeth a nashing an voices wailing
Fine ye ken this unhaly nicht
tis filled wae all unGodly licht
Craw tha Banshee frae tha Ben
like howlet song throughoot tha Glen.
Satan, Auld horney casts his lots
for innocent bairnies fresh frae their cots
An' ancient stories there arise an fly
Like shooting stars that fill tha sky
for here in tales tha croonies dae rattle
in haunting airs and fiendish battle
leagons arise tae tha masters calling
This nicht hell awakens, aahhh tha heevens are falling.

Here in blackened darkened skies
whare lichtning flashes weaves an cries
An mortal man fears fa his soul
against that heelish burning coal
Ministers intae their beds are fleeing
wae ranting verses fa all their Dealing.

Whare auld worn hags an witches cast
upon tha waters that blaw an blast
drooning mony tha ship an sailor
all fa tha glory O their Demonic tailor
when cauldrens stir in bubbling brews
An damnation demands its richtful dues
tha lan' it heaves and haws
devouring all within its jaws
A Blood red Moon casts her lot
whare evil men have Died an fought
tha Earth auld an worn frae tribulation
demands the blood of every nation.
Here within the fields o life
brither against brither in war an strife
hae released all this fiendish nightmare
fa all their guilt,fa all they share

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Tis but a Dream

Tis but a dream!
Flowing wildly,
Intae tha memories
Tha goals, tha desires,
Delving intae tha deepths
Touching tha he'rt,
Romancing tha soul
Exciting tha senses,
Pulling at tha emotions.

Tis but a dream!
Aye sae true,
Yet e'er sae real
an'yin begins tae act,
within its wonnerous play
such nichts
Her purfume, her form,
An all else fades
Save for her touch,
Her smile, her love.

For she tis but a phantom,
A ghost O lang ago
That haunts nue my e'er dream.
Tis but a dream?
Aye ,tis but a dream!
Tis but a dream!

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Western Breeze

I stand here
as oft many times afore
seeing that sacred glob rest his weight
upon the Edge of the world and more
as twilight dances upon hues of yellow and red
and darkness gathers behind me 
swallowing the last drops of his zest
till there in darkness I stand
with western breezes blowing sharply up
filling and engulfing soul, heart and form
Here upon old Carrick I
look outward at all the world below
seeing the lights glisten brightly calling.

But here I am whole and complete
Like a giant of an ancient faded race
awaiting the moment of my final demise.
Whole, for here I'm at peace with God ,King and Country
I am surely bound to these fields
crafted into the network of grass and trees
perhaps more if my mind had its way
but then we all think of our grandeur and watch it fall
but these moments upon Carrick are cures
Cures for the little soul,cures for the heart.

Now I'm so far parted
having drifted to distant shores and stranger grounds
I look empty to the horizon, dead to the depths of time
for my mind carries across field and mire
journeys the under currents of time and space
till resting in thought again triumphant
I upon old Carrick stand erect
starring out to-wards Arran and beyond
feeling the western breeze bite my cheeks
and knowing again I stand as a God upon my throne.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph


It's Strange

It's strange for me to think
that some women see me as their missing link
"By God" says I "They're blind
If I'm the best that they can find."
For I'm not a man of eloquent charm
nor one with protruding muscles in my arm
No seductive tongue nor Golden locks
Only word that the English language mocks
Definitely no Greek God would stumble so low
with my physique,the world to show
Just plain as plain ever could be
if they truly had eyes they'd see
I'm far from the sexy wooing body
but rather fleshy and fairly stocky
God knows by pound or stone I am
of greater wealth than pork or ham
"But if it suits them Lord
Who am I to disagree!"
So welcome Women for all you care
of freckled Skin and receding hair.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

The Brimstane Kettle

Oot O tha Brimstane Kettle
leaping an Joggling wae a Curse o tha nettle
tha voice sae craiggie anyon compare
wae ein that questioned all I'd dare
Like a wee willie winkie I'd face tha yell
a tormented youth boun straight tae hell
I'd weep an squeal like some yelping pup
kenning fairweel tha pain i'd sup
Up like a Jaguar he'd grasp my lug
pulling me up like a vagabon thug
Ta Christ almichty! such a divine name
his thumping slap put all tae shame
Wae eyebrow raised, venting a gaze
taewards my baffled confounded daze
somethings wrang, what hae I done
tae late tae move, Tha sting has stung
Sic memories nue just mak me noggle
recalling thochts imbued tae boggle
Least boun am I here tae recall
tha spanking han' that tae my arse would fall.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Tha Scots Tongue

O Rabbie that e'er made oor tongue
flow like a well thats newly sprung
that wae true passion an' Usquabae
recites tha spirits O Scotland's way
Words that puts merit in oor speech
Words, tha English scauld against an' preach.

Och! If it wasney fa oor ways
thats wannered doun tae oor days
we couldney say worth a rot
what makes a Man, true a Scot
Let England wae her tonsils strained
keep what fa them tis bettered Named.

Nae Scot wants tae pass his days
with words that doun in Cambridge lays
far better tis oor tongue in grace
Than a' O England's frills an lace
Nae better spoken word there is
than what a Scot calls truly His.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph


I sat here,
Having lived this afore
some where between gently breezes
and the perfumed air of Heather and thyme.
I have witnessed the changes
that imbued the glorious Sun set
and drifted those valleys of my Soul.
Here upon Merrick
I sit over looking all Galloways splendors
I see the bracken ablaze
in rusts and tints of fire
glistening upon the horizon
Calling me back to distant dreams
fading visions of the Ancient race.
I hear the waters of Loch Doon
Calling out upon the wind
and here in My silent vigil
I watch as the gloaming gathers around
feeling the sod rising through me
filling my bones with vigor and strength.
Mighty these forces are
that arise within the deepest thought
to cast upon the fields of reality
that essence of Place and creed.
I sit here
still in my mind
I picture that sweet, sweet day
A fourteen year olds awakening
to that which he had always seen and known
and yet was ever so blinded to
His national Identity and his home.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

O'Circle O Ancient Standing Stones

"O' Circle O' ancient standing stones
that excites the senses, chills the bones
O' but to know the secrets contained in thee
If but one secret, you'd give to me."

When times were ancient, old and worn
and priests,those Druids in secrets sworn
To cast like Merlin amongst the breeze
the secrets of Oak and Rowan trees.

The wise ones in circles of primal flame
would cast and call upon the sacred name
The elements would shake at this request
knowing to well the Grails Holy guest.

The Heavens would darken, the thunder's roar
As lightning would strike into Earths central core
The Sea's would rumble ,roar and over flow
and all the Earth would shake wishing to know.

The Sigil, the Talisman,what form it took
What mighty symbol could life's foundations have shook
"No mortal man this, with powers so grand
Is Merlin but a Mortal,or a God upon the land?"

For in Sacred groves under Beltane's flame
come the cries of the Lords born without name
and above the horizon, twined with the Moon
arises the Heavenly Mother to her full bloom.

Dance young Maidens,lease forth your cry
come in songs O'joy, let your emotions fly
Young Celtic warrior brave,portray you your glory
and give Honor to Honor,Holy to Holy.

Look at Merlin, how he walks with the fire
Filled with the passions of Life's true desire
Watch him grow ,take wing and fly
upon the breath of the Dragon,in the sky.

So set sail ye the soul, that ancient form
and cast forth thy will into the depths of the storm
Follow ye, the wind from the Sacred East
and there meet the mighty man and priest.

Release your bonds, set free your heart
gaze within the depths of one's inner part
Then take hold the maiden, Mother and old Hag
Love them equally and do not sag.

Give freely of thy spirit,receive nothing in return
then come Earth's Child to the Stones to learn
The secrets of secrets,within each of us one
that by which all is cast and eventually is done.

Then be you like Merlin and others before
that have entered our gardens,Returned form behind it's door
So fear ye none save yourself, that is the truth
something one can never learn, while their mind plays in youth.

But gather you together the strength of the will
Once that be done, Son, then you shall we fill
And the days shall sing of praises, the rain shall fall like wine
Invigorating the Earth,making all once again mine.

Such shall it be, the day a Merlin shall arise
to relieve the pain and suffering of Man's stifled cries
For we are the Ancient of Ancients,Born but with one name
We are the keepers of the Soul's of Arianrod and Heaven's great flame.

To whom ever dares, wishes or enters here
Let him meet first his deepest darkest fear
And should he surpass all tests and walk on through
Then behold the cauldron of rebirth awaits you.

For the Rod of Merlin shall await the one
and the Crown of Dana,bold as the sun
Then shall we come with hearts full and rich
To teach our secrets, their tone, Their pitch.

Alas, fulfilling the destiny we made e'er so long ago
the returning age of Arthur, for all to Know.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

All poems are copyright of Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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