Soul Search
Words dressed
Farewell the Land
Artists and Magicans
The Tennessean
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Tha Mither tongue
Crying Fields
The Glimmering
Gaelic Tide
Within Solitude
Silent Shades
Breath O' tha Gael
The Quickening
The Hush
Beating Heart
Tha Crack
Soul Search
The fluttering
Words undressed

Pale Moon
The pale moon rests her form
amidst the crumbling clouds
the sky broken as if in shards
her soft rays gently flow
Like a soft breeze and devouring Halo.

It's nights like these
that fills my mind to long gone sagas
It twines my thoughts across the Glens
Fills me so, To the wanting, That need
That within springs between these towering Bens.

My heart pines away
to the forges of the ancestry
that hold so strong upon the Gael
and summons like a whisper from within ones soul
In words of a love most scared and profound
Here upon this ancient ground.

I hear the cooing of the wood pigeons song
That fills the glades of pine and Rowan
Where the master Oak sways upon the midnight hours
Taunted by the houlet within the grove
Where shadows fall and prosper upon
The imaginative mind, the silent dream within.

The aged Merlin casts upon the dial
and turns the world back upon itself,
The vapors, those fiery mists
Sing out from the braes to cover, smother
The world upon a melody played centuries ago
And left to haunt nights like this.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph


I O Man
The blood flows deep within it's wondrous paths
and recalls the depths of this my soul
For within this article of flesh and of bone
Is contained the threads of the eternal Past.
As I master of the forefathers come forth
Crowned in their animalistic glory
heightened by their evolutionary growth
Hence, I become their grandeur, their perfection
Of all, yes all their physical Characteristics.

For here within flows the blood of the ancients
Of Celtic Kings and brooding peasants
Of high priests, Bards and drunken old loafs
For I am the blood of my father's and more
For I am beyond their recall;
Established for the uniting principle of body, of soul
Under direct observance of cosmic law.

And when i dream whether fantasy or fact
some prevails from those ancestral vibrations
while others, far separated through
time and space
Calls upon and funds the primal essence.
No matter how deep the passions flow
or to whom is given the perceptive
neither is accepted within the throngs of the master
Whether giving or taking, adsorbing or projecting.

It is none other than the illuminating essence of man
caught between reason and all that lays forgotten;
For these do the ancestral cults of the old ones proclaim,
and true, they hold our roots deep within
How could they not, if I am of their blood, thought and form!
Of tribal beats upon skins of sacrificial cries
Of elders, priests and God-kings vanquished
and in the depths of my perceptions of them
I evolve along similar lines to what they foretold.

I perceive here today, within and without
the pools by which swarm the matter of human clay
formed upon the potters wheel of karma's evolutionary song
and passed on from generation to generation that tune,
whereby one sees within the child the Father, the Mother
and therein the words of Father times ancient song
That echoes upon the consciousness of reality and sublime
The very first thoughts of Ape-man to his horizon.

It is that cycle that never ends,
Its circumference extends throughout all time
And unites them all within the first ones breath.
It is called the circle of the ancients
Cast upon the molten rocks of tradition
and ironed out amongst the blacksmiths of civilization;
and when its Orbs cease to move and the blood ends its flow
When our horizon fades into mere thoughts.

At that time, in that space, upon that concept
then here too shall the ancients be, with you, with me
Facing that future, that silent moment
when existence ends and all prevails
To a single deep profound thought.
Gentile, Jew, Aryan, Asian, black or white
all void, save for that single breath
that proclaims throughout time into eternity
"I O'Man, I O'Man, I O'Man."

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Heart To Heart
My woman, My love
These words of mine
that so sojourn here upon you
drifts the solitude of moments
and pampers upon your skin
The hunger that cannot be denied
The want that fills me so
To taste your lips
Touch soft your skin
To know that the night
holds our entangled form
And blesses it right.
That I long your being
as much as I do my own
That there's a loss of soul
when I cannot feel you against me
Or know that the day but carries
embers of who you are
till again I can be within your flame
To burn in the sweet dialog of heart to heart.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph


In Memory)

The cold wind lays waste
upon this parched space of ground
Where haunting the cries fill and reek
Out upon the surrounding fields.
I see still the long lines
the aches plead
the men bleed
The sorrow hollowed eyes
Engulf the visions, cries
Thin reflective shadows
of what once were men and woman
peer through the barbed wire
where within nothing can inspire
Their lost gone world.
Babes worn into ancient clay
etch upon the horizon their ghostly forms
Hungry to the empty breast
They plead for life to give
anything, some spark, the want to live
Only to find deaths cold solemn touch.
Lamentations touch the foundations
where Heaven commences its dream
For hell surrounds each face, each soul
In this bitter heap of Life.
History bows its tormented shame
Where these people, this race echoes the name
Of a place in the notebook of time
That holds all accountable for the crime
Bitter tears, of those that survived
The memories deep, saddened cries
They awaken to the cold sweat
the flooding tear, the drowning fear
That again upon fates grim pages
Another dawn of hell rages.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

-Auschwitz death camp-
985,000 Jews died
74,000 poles
21,000 Romany-Gypsies
15,000 Soviet POWs
13,000 others.
In memory

Alexander Morton

Old grace yard KY
Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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