words undressed
Words dressed
Farewell the Land
Artists and Magicans
The Tennessean
Favorite Links
Contact Me
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

Words can liberate the mind, open doors, free souls. They lay buried deep within us all, sometimes they must be undressed to expose their full beauty...Alisdaire

The Dancer
By Alisdaire O'Caoimph

The tempests storm
Sweet, sweet the tormenting throngs
that here upon a gentle form
holds the lavished thought
the long desire
That drapes her soft skin
in the radiance of her complexion
and shines deep that hungering want
to touch, to feel, to be.
How many nights I've dreamed the need
of her close and tight within my arms
to feel her kindling hunger arise
and there where lips eager flies
 finds the warmth of her.
That her skin like a satin sheet around
tender the flesh within my palms
I draw from the luscious nectar of the Gods
the passions fold, the supple gate
where rides the tempests storm.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph

What will be
Some where in the dark
there is a strong ebbing tide
that seems to draw us out upon the night
Like children within its cloak
we walk the long desperate line
back and forth, to and fro
In lines that cross and seem to grow
here deep within our bellies.
If one listens hard enough
one hears the cries of the eternal past
weeping in those very streets
where we roam to our gloom.
Fearing as all our fathers had
its bite, its rage that engulfs us whole
Till nothing but death gathers upon us
and rushes us to the brink.
There are tales told
visions embraced
but seldom are they our own,
We seem to listen more intently to the taste of the devoured
Honouring them their place
A sacred seat upon which we stew
wish that second ours.
Longing some heroes fate
that floods the memories
on which we are raised.
Ah! The delinquent child
that festers upon its own delusions
and here some how grasps more of life
Than we that conform to the image.
We tangle ourselves upon a need to be
and walk the strangled course of what others will
seek and see within us each.
The dragons fade to the years
Haunt us in our sleep
But even here where maturity gathers
we edge upon our seats for the fear
Of what will be.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Moon haze
By Alisdaire O'Caoimph

The words I cuss
It rings
out upon the air
like a serenade of neither here nor there
A haunting of places woe so deep
that harbours where the Soul does keep
All hidden from its danger.
There's not many that open their doors
where the surrounding aftermath of war
fills the tranquil spaces deep within
and leaves behind its very own sin.
Such is the worn, rugged path
the birthed annoyance, the wrath
that ever holds one imprisoned to
Images, dreams, the memories of you.
Craft not the ample dream that wakes
fear there places deep its stakes
and holds the promise of yesterday now gone
Like a vanished impression totally all wrong.
I close tight the doors
Find myself buried in chores
so the mind forgets, the day rushes past
The clue forgotten, till sleep comes fast.
The riddle of the mind
that here plays where it can find
some little glimmer of what once was known
Some little shiver, the skin had shown
and here in the dark
where all fades and resides
comes fast the images one so hides
and awakening again to the whole battle of us
I toss back and forth in the words I cuss.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph

The song of my heart
The pain
this agony of want
that here upon the tides of man
begs and tears
rips open the soft muscle of heart
and wears forever the thought.
These dreams
that come upon the wings of night
gathers me deep
hovers complete
to every image, the tangible thought
Of you, my love.
As if nothing evolves
grows to any length or depth of day
But hinges its dream, its reality
here where in memories soft
You come and rest
to laugh and cry
The song of my heart.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph