Alisdaire

[Alisdaire]

<a name="#forty six"> In the Attic </a>

Sitting up in the attic room
with things forgotten, out of bloom
A china doll of antique grace
with porcelain cracked and dirty face
Ringlets of golden honey hair
in a velvet burgundy dress long past care
Little hands open in out stretched arms
Portraying all the grandeur of her Victorian charms.
Sitting atop a wooden box
beside a clock that never tocks
Around her lays all that is forgotten
Pictures,Toys, wool and cotton.
Belongings all to another time and place
things that once came please and grace
A painting that upon a wall did stand
A trumpet that once Jazzed a band.
Saddened all to the timeless lack
They fill the Attic, every nook and crack.

But
On nights when the full Moon's light is there
when its magical rays through the attic's windows fare
The Little Doll's eyes do twinkle
where Moonbeams fall and sprinkle.
Granted if but for a moment
the doll that has long lain dormant
Awakens with a child like giggle
where memories within her tingle.
The Clock is given a moment in time
to tick a second,sound a chime
All the while people down stairs do talk
not knowing what above their heads does walk
However, every now and then at the full Moon
A sound they'll hear in the Attic room
No sooner than they open the door
the magic ends what powers did soar
As they peer into what lays dead and still
within a tingle up their spines does fill
For there Sitting upon her wooden seat
with arms out stretched and bare feet
Bella awaits the next full Moon's shine
When the clock shall tick and again shall chime.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#forty seven"> Poetry </a>

Poetry that well of emotions
that flows from the mind to the pen
Engraving upon paper those impressions
that swirl within a Poet's brain.

How can one come to express
feelings that expand and explode
That pain and anger from unreasoned heat
that warmth and passion from a lover's embrace.
Words ever mysterious,with double meanings
characterized and pro-trade in differing tones
To illustrate the purest beauty
to reflect the greatest horror.

Poetry lingers upon the breath of Man
Forever flowing into all life's streams
Invading and conquering the Poet's mind
Chaining him or her, forever to the word.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#forty eight"> A FAREWELL TEAR </a>

The engines roar
Movement is thrust forward
shaking in the vibrations of its force.

Looking out of the small window
I see the Earth passing away beneath us
Those green green fields, that once held my dreams
Are fading into the distance
Those trees and hedges, that once echoed my soul
will become in time tender past memories.

Lines are crossing the land below
grey lines
Upon them matchbox replica's move to and fro.

Roof tops with chimneys bursting forth
this world looks so different from up here
Little villages and towns scatter the patch worked quilt
A domain of little people, Leprechauns
I see myself down there, staring up ,the Soul
Waving farewell to its body.

deep inside
wells those tears of parting
saying farewell to the hearts final beat.

I lay back my head
close to my eyes
feeling the parting of friends and family, the place
I shall always call my home
that land these hands have held, its texture
Like a womens Lily soft skin
No soil on Earth clings stronger to the bone, no dream as bright
As dreams of journeys home.

In my silent thoughts
I hear the cries of friends
Echoing the haunting voice of home and place.

Yet I did leave her like an ungrateful lover
and how she has grieved for her wondering companions
clinging to her children with every essence of her form
But I shall always dream of her,
Of her tenderness and her warmth
Farewell my dearest Mistress, My aching heart.

Your Lover
Your child
now has left your womb.

But I shall return dear breath, back to you
As the western Winds return again upon the Firth
To lay but once more within your arms,
to feel your form beneath my flesh
And like the fragrance that flows gently from your image
My Soul and Body,
Together with yours,
Shall forever roam.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#forty nine"> The Cry </a>

Oh blasted Cry
Tormenting silent Lullaby
The pain that eats and wears away
Every thought and every day
I linger in these chaotic depths of hell
With fading images,Depressions spell
and I call for help into the wind
My thoughts voided, fragmented, Skinned
I look into the darkness that now
leaves me lost to any purpose or how
Driven mad, by life's cruel dealings
I've cried my last, Lost all feelings.
Oh Cry
let the Heavens hear this curse
Of empty faith, Of empty purse
for where is it's might?
where is it's light?
I question it all
the silent thought that once would call
The glory vain
Now behold, Disdain
I draw open my eyes
to peer through swollen visions those skies
Ones that once held all together
Beholds the storm,unnatural Weather.
I see in parts and parcels now
and wonder each and every how
But somewhere too I know
These feelings will change the show
and Maybe, just maybe again
I shall behold life's true grain
To fill this vacuum here in Contained
This tortured soul,This life thats stained.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty"> Time </a>

Another day, another hour
time that mighty weigher of destiny
Spreads out it's wings upon little souls
and dances us away with every tick.
The second hand rushes
pushing always to the fore
A moments breath then silence
and for what ?
The hour hand wages it's bloody war
upon a hundred thousand faces and more
Till worn out, decayed,Haggard images
break down those images that once were ours.
Time that passing phantom
that pulls us into this majestic realm of life
only to gored us with it's ticking arms
Into the twilight of this life.
No promises kept forever,
No destiny to run past its length
nor mortal breath to linger ever.
Beholding the fields and Earth's sweet rapture
that ever flows and fills every moment
to the eternal changes and the fading
Of a seconds image, then gone.
We see the season pace and stroll
through mighty Times silent call
Spring ,Summer,Fall and winter
all play the song and go.
As we to shall do
From our little stretch between
here and there,
But Time still keeps ticking!

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty one"> Dali's Vision </a>

The Silver tips cross
and flow ever so gently
here upon my mantel of dreams
as i drift ever deeper within
sweet scented gardens arise
Awakening that pounding heart within
As I run through fields ,laughing
contented in this milky way fantasy.
There before majestic standing
Like a giant from Some great Norse legend
Blazing with the Sun upon it's fore
Weathered and vained , deep and bold
This Mountain stands here Triumphant
Like a God, Vibrating ,commanding.
What vision engulfs me
where Persian sand gathers with
and seems to combine where heather filled fields
weave and sway gently to the aromatic breeze.
I smell Life more deeply, more honestly
I hear the grass speak and the heavens laugh
What a Journey, One I long often
where in this Peace and utopia
I am truly free, Liberated, exploring
Perhaps Myself, for is not the dream my creation?
But truly, Here I wish, I could lead you
Into another Dali Vision.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty two"> O' Circle O' Ancient Standing Stones </a>

" 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

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty three"> America </a>

Welcome stranger,Welcome brother
To the land of Liberty, this flowering Mother.

Where dreams are made, ideals are set
Where fortunes are gained and prospect's met
Welcome Sons and Daughters from foreign lands
To the land of hero's and exorbitant bands
Where freedom is more than just mere dreams
Where justice flows it's vibrant streams.

America, the land of promise,land of the bold
Where everything can be bought,exchanged and sold
America, the land of tremendous might
Come stranger and see her magnificent light
For it shines like a beacon, a lighthouse if you will
Before all the inhabitants of the Earth to see, their lives to fill
Land of the multitudes,Rich and poor proclaim her glory
Land of perpetual motion and un-ending story
So welcome all, to this land of banners and star sprinkled rays
To the place where the hearts of emigrants oft time strays.

Welcome Stranger, Welcome Brother
To this land of Liberty, This flowering Mother.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty four"> Willow Lane </a>

Come upon the willow lane
and dance and dream upon it's stream
That echo's the haunting melody of long ago
upon the heart's emotional tide
And you float away upon it's breeze
over the days,months and years
Taking you back to a wonderful day
when into his arms, you made your way.

Your hearts were young and tender your years
when all that mattered was loves sweet promise
You laughed and played in lovers games
In the woods,over fields,down Willow lane
And both spoke of Love, the heart's great joy
promising forever, tomorrows eternal bliss
Days of great promises,Tender glances
in this world of Fairy tales and romances.

You remember his face, he too yours
recalling the second of the first encounter
The shyness past,the Ego relentless
softly teasing each other's eye
Then came the moment of that first Kiss
that flowed like a breeze from within your hearts
Intoxicating, bewildering,
faces red with the knowing
that here something strong was growing.

Each day you would wait,in undying anticipation
for to meet this your new found love
Both eager and hungrily dreaming
for the next moment within each others arms
Whispering secrets that both now share
laughing, tickling,cuddling and kissing
detesting that moment when both must part
yet knowing Homeward both must start.

One day Flowers he brings you
No rose as perfect, no other time as special
Each gift becomes but another Sacred treasure
Love's memorial gifts,Loves scented quest
days whisk by, then weeks and months
bonding to each tender moment in time and space
They come to view Willow lane as their special place.

Ah! But time stands still for no man
Age gathers from youth and leaves it's mark.

Sitting by a fire, glancing into the flames
those memories pop open and play their roles
A smile softly gathers upon her face
at those innocent times and dreams so distant.
As she pokers the fires pale blue flame
her heart recalls his image, whispers his name.

What ever happened to draw you both apart
for all your memories, you have forgotten it's end
Did we fight,Did he find another?
Trying so very hard to recapture the answer
Wondering too, deep down inside
with the same childish emotion, what if, Could we?
Naw! she gasps,don't even consider what could have been
but on her cheek, a soft tiny tear
for all these moments she holds so dear.

She wonders if he's married just like her
What is he doing, Where is he now?
trying within the mind to recapture his image
and all the while you sit and think
Wondering at the loss of years
Staring at the reflection of herself in the mirror
She wonders if he remembers too
Those warm summer days down Willow Lane with you.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty five"> A Poet's Imaginary Goddess </a>

Dreams drift in and envelopes me around
Establishing illusions mighty images and sound
Flowing gently upon that emotional bed
Within a Universe of archetypal sub-entities within my head.
I have been Lord and Master,of all around and about
A warrior brave,with battle Axe and fearsome shout
Gathering the armies,Commanding the roar
establishing all these fantasies,that dreams are summoned for.
But,
The greatest Illusion, that ever filled this place
Was the one in which I beheld her Face
A women like such, I have never seen
Her beauty so great and perfect, could only have been,
Within a Dream.
She was dressed in white satin, lace round with pale blue
Giving birth to the skies,the color of her Eye's hue
She arose from the water with a Goddesses grace
With a figure so sharp and clear, no artist could trace
Above her head, yielding to her beauty twas the Moon
and her complexion out bore all the gardens and their bloom
yet, there within this vision,wherein I was caught
I came to witness the jewel, that men for centuries have sought.
And within those gardens, my heart came to know
Wherein all aspirations stem and flow
For she is like a Flower amongst the weeds
With a Beauty that fills a Poet's needs.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty six"> Caledonia </a>

How many nights
have I wandered these lonely streets
These feet have stepped
o'er ditch and puddle
So intense the air is filled
With all the memories of the past and more
For here in solitudes distant yearning
Visions open and awaken to time
I hear the Pipes so distant lilting
amidst the mist of heather ground.
Where does in this place
does time stop for the breath
For here within fields I journey
with the ancestors and the fathers afore.
I see the clans up and arising
The Tartan waving with the air
That gallant laugh that mocks an encounter
To the clash of vibrant steel upon steel.
Here too, In this vivid place
where castle dot and history cries
One feels the blood fill deep within
and the shiver that chills spine and Soul.
Where in the haze can one perceive
or know what next rounds one's way.
Yet many a night this journey I
have trod through muck and mire.
From fabled haunts and deaths chilled cry
between two worlds, the here, the then
One feels strong against the bone
The breath of the tyrant, the hero, the strong
Our poetic words are full of it,
I hear Burns with Alloway's haunted Kirk
Or Scott's Dark Loch Na Gar,
we live for the fable of our land
And aye true she fills us deep
For here is where one truly meets the Hosts
The otherworld realms, here to behold
And again my steps shall caress your soil
and I shall wonder your silent paths
To go again, where strangers Know not
and feel the life of you.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty seven"> Walking Dead </a>

Where is the sweet scented promise
That lays within the eyes I behold
Like some distant land, valley’s deep
So do I look into you
I hear from within a sweet sad melody
That plays forever your mystery here
Like a clock that never stops running
Such the momentum in you
I whisper in soft sung images
That ever draws my hearts trembling beats
For I know by all that is Sanity
The destiny between us two.
If words they be so illuminating
And fill ever region within
Then why is it so impossible
To portray the depth of me.
If I had wings
To fly the depth of heavens sky
And searching the vastness beneath
Truly I could never see
Or hope there to ever behold
Those images of you I hold so dear.
Aye! by truth, these wings would wither fast
And I would fall to utter death
For such a dream would be impossible to fill
For there is but you.
There is much this heart knows
More this mind has glimmered through
But woe is me if not for you
In truth the walking dead I’d be.

Alisdaire O’Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty eight"> Tis June My Love </a>

Tis June my love, That time of joy
When folk talk of love and to the passions employ
Tis the time when lovers walk hand in hand
Or carelessly lay down upon the Earth’s scented land.

And of the Nights my love, let me tell you of them
When the Stars shine bright beneath the Heaven’s Hem
And the Moon tis aglow with passionate light
To fill ones eyes with love’s great sight.

When kisses excite and vibrate on pass
When a Lad sends flowers to a bonnie Lass
As the Blood boils with the fire Of passion’s flame
In the smothering pleasures of love, he whispers her name.

O’ promises born upon the whelms of the moment
With words to cause great joy or total torment
For all the thoughts that enter into the brain
May have come from a lover’s lips in utter vain.

And a man takes a women and he lays her down
Them both in the passions of the flesh, wherein they drown
A few lovely women shall come to know
The men from whom their children shall flow.

Tis a month well remembered by one and all
That walked scented gardens to love’s early call
When Virgin hearts shall forever remember the face
Of the one’s that showed them women hood’s grace.

A time when many a young blighter shall cry and say
The name’s of the lassies, he shamed One June’s day
Yet, never mind you the lover’s that drew apart
But think you on them who’s love shall never depart.

Tis worth more than all the Jewels upon the Royal Crown
To know that Love, two Souls have bound
Twas June my Love, The time when People enjoyed
The talk of Love and the passions they employed.

Alisdaire O’Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#fifty nine"> The Word </a>

Let me stray down
Where fields entwine with hedge and tree
Nature filling all that I behold
Evoking perceptions here within this mind.
Alas, what liquid fire flows in these veins
Drawing that pulsating Dreamer of dreams
Upon every whelm, emotion, desire and passion
Till drawn out like tears ever so forbidden
They establish here before you these words.
________________
Tis a Picture, A floating image
Vibrant ,that summons recognition
Of what beauty stretches out and parades
Before these simple mortal eyes and gentle heart.
I see deeply, perhaps to where Soul’s touch
I know the longing, the want of being and more
For there beneath those eyes, cries forth all mystery
Surely no mortal lover finds nor bears her Soul
None conquers so uniquely her embrace.
Rather a Phantom, that haunting masquerading stranger
That gently illuminates her passion
Controls and builds that wanting desire and sigh
Till satisfied in his want, releases her floods
To pour over her Satin skin those tiny chills
That vibrate outward from her heart.
Aye take hold this hand
Let me take your scented aftermath further
Further beyond the dreamer’s reason
To walk the burning folds of Heaven and Hell’s lusty pleasure
To rest upon the echoing haunts of Time.
There within that tangled clutch of life
I will whisper softly upon the breeze
To carry to all four corners and back again
The Name that draws Quill to pen upon sweet parchment
And summons the Soul’s legions to being.
Who understands best these feelings
Eternal wants that forever cries into
And through the screams of the darkest of nights
Longing the release, to be, feel and breath
Filling every sacred space within
Knowing in the silent moment, You
Have come face to face, have touched Soul to Soul
With that other being of yourself.
Watching as the Horizon’s line expands
To Dawns burst of subtle blazing rays
Opening every particle of time graced color
Pour like liquid paint upon this parchment
Till alive, Existence calls
There, She awakening from her slumber
Opens again those dew filled eyes
Parts those rose tinted lips to sigh
Forgetting with consciousness the form
That had spread these lips with tongue
And that torn into the depths of your gaze
To rest within the warmth of your soul.
_________________
It is in this,
In words that forever life fills
To caress the essence into the fantasy
And Drives the Heart to wonder.
The Soul to cry for the Eternal night,
To the vibrating power of invocations
Drawing by Heart, Mind and Intonation
Together in the embrace of that one great power
The Word.

Alisdaire O’Caoimph

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[Alisdaire]

<a name="#sixty"> Rabbi Aharon </a>

On dark lonely nights, such as this
When tales encounter the heart, the mind
A time when most lay within the confines of sleep
An old Rabbi sits contemplating the mysteries
His head lowered within the pages of a book
Its age, explained by its dark yellow hue
His heart pounds with the beat of each word
As it engulfs his entire being, body and Soul.

Here, one is within his Kingdom, his Land
The fire in the room, blazes like the deserts Sun
Giving warmth and light into a musky room
Shadows play upon the walls, like gothic characters
Embedding their images into the mind
He sits here upon his throne, near the fire
But his mind is far off
In another place, another time
Perhaps!
Who Knows?

He turns a page, his eyes wide and full
What manner of depth has he glimpsed?
Sparkles, like stars glimmer within his eyes
His old wrinkled hand rises, touching his bearded chin
Scratching that cloak of long gray whiskers
He murmurs something that vibrates in the lonely room
Again all falls silent
Through the window, the Moon shines her fullness
As if at this moment, the Shekhinah filled her form
No Moon ever looked as pure, As full
The Air indeed was filled with mystery, secrets.

The old Maggid lays back his head in contentment
His face radiating the depths of his thoughts
Eyes beholding the vaulted ceiling, his lips tremble
They are muttering a silent prayer
Perhaps they are evoking the depths of his Soul
Summoning his being to bear witness
He closes his eyes, breathing deep
The old book gathered against his chest.

All falls to the Midnight hush
The flames of the fire burn slowly down
The hours pass
Time moves its tired awkward hands on
The Sun breaks the horizon like a soft tiny whisper
A whisper, that promises a new brighter Day.

Nana enters into the room
She view her husband in the depth of sleep
Shaking her head, rattling some obscure Yiddish
She walks over to him
“ Aharon its morning.”
His face is pale and cold, yet a smile blesses his face
The old Rabbi no longer resides here
He has gone with the wind of the night
Now He is that very breath of which he’d speak
Perhaps last night , He had glimpsed the secret
Could it be?
Perhaps now he was within the house of Israel
Within the Temple, with the Maggidim.
His son takes the book from off his fathers chest.

Opening the Book he views empty pages
No words entice, No images enhance
Nothing is therein contained
Just old worn blank pages
He closes the book
Bewildered by this puzzle
Searching an answer, seeking its title
Upon the old worn leather binding was written
“Uchvod Yahveh malay et ha Mishkan.”
“And the Glory of God filled the Tabernacle.”


Alisdaire O’Caoimph

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