Tha Mither tongue

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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

A few of Alisdaire's Poems in his native Scots-Doric

Curse O'Ale
Wee Angus on his wae frae work
would hit tha pub fa a perk
O' Tennents lager frae tha keg
whiles chatting up tha barmaid Meg
A pint or twa there wae friens
a' bleathering awa like scholars an Deans
Debators O Parlimentary views
Ministers preaching o'er tha pews
Wae drink in hand they'd laugh their fill
tha glory Mead upon their bill
Yelping like some bairney pups
catching breeths atween their sups.

(nae wiser a man than yin filled wae ale
Nae greater a time than while drinking frae tha Grail.)

In football games they A' would linger
or singing songs for all's a singer
Nae matter how bad tha voice
a' would request their favorite choice
Happy all wae drink in hand
while holding up the bar they stand
In rattled curses tae tha bumping airms
while viewing o'er some lassies chairms
Whispering oot all dreams an desires
that drink within them all inspires
An' Angus kens that soon or late
he tae hame must tak tha gate.

Kenning tae deep doun inside
his drunken breath he'd better hide
Saying fareweel tae friens and foes
leaing ahind tha pub's warm burning coals
Doun he stummels tae tha chippy
tha air ootside tis crisp an nippy
Making him drunker than afore
he side steps frae door tae door
Eating his fish supper, enjoying each bite
thinking aboot all that's happened tha night.
Till there he rouns tha corner street
His hame sae warmly it does greet,
Falling o'er tha step ootside his hame
Tha door it opens, Behold his sullen Dame
Trying tae act sober wae all his might
afore his wifie here tha night
But she nae fool nor blind tae see
his daft antics, his blabbering plea.

In comes Angus wae words O' love
tae face tha thumping slap an shove
Her roaring voice would put fear intae tha Deil
Hear wee Angus weep an squeal.

(What type O' life drink it brings
that great at first yet later stings
What worth has man tae waste his life
wae drinks illusions an its strife.
Sooner or later as true as Hell
Yin cannie live save by its spell
getting worse an worse day by day
while friens an family turn away
An Angus wheither he kens or no
has drifted where tha drunkards go
An time shall tell what fate bestows
for tha Curse O Ale, nae man knows.)
Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

A Gaels Soft Story
Away ye tempests rising
the songs of life fall short
the faded images of the morrows sun
shall dim afore these eyes once bright
there is no longer a song to carry
nor a drifting phrase to brighten this mind
only pastures of endless countless wishes
that e'er now but longs to hide.
I have heard the chambers roar
triumphant he comes and brings
to these ears that final mirth
to this soul its long abide
These eyes of mine dim and worn
to the bitter step and paths arrayed
I lay back in my final glory to
the ancestral calls and faded halls
the bygone lands where they my fathers be.
I cry O' winds but e'er one last time
and thunder to the heavens e'er sweet glory
My bardic drift shall fade sweetly away
into a Celtic Gaels soft story.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

A Scot's Winter
Gang cauld tha breeze trickles frae tha lanely pines
tha woodlan heath echos oot upon tha meadows
The lang winters nicht
wha's craw fills tha donsie worl'
apon tha nichts sweet breath
Hoo cauld tha weeping dropplets O' rain
freeze apon tha frosty pane
an leas me hushed tae tha magic
tha thrill that within this worl'
 hulds tae her majesty.
Her dark winsome sel' roams
atween tha cracklin fire
and the errie droons O' tha win'
Calling me awa, awa tae her
whare ma min drifts tha lanes
that memories bring afor aplenty
O' this woman, This ghostie O' ma min'
that fore'er fills tha shadowed sel'
Intae her deep confining beauty.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph 

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

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


Oh nicht
Hoo weel ye haunt e'er my dreams
Tae tha ravished demise, awa , awa
that here sae gaither's tha breeth O me
an wears awa tha profoun dream
Tis here aye whare time but rests
Its weary depth an a' frae me
Tae force me intae but anither darkened day
O' a' yince fine weel I ken
was but tha brichter dream O' her.

Fareweel tha sleep
Whaes confin's that e'er tha min' sae bids
Tae some tranquil valley O fated bliss
But awa, awa, this realm fa me
Fa' all tha wrong I bodied be
that walked awa frae tha purist melody
O'lifes faithful vision an crafted truth.

I walk tha lanesone mile mesel'
Kenning fine tha twisted bou'ers O my road
My min' though drunk tae her fading form
E'er but dreams anither wish, but e'er delight
O' tha fragrence O' a summer's nicht
Whare tae tha leal, I gang awa
Tae await fore'er my souls sweet tide.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph


Tha Walking O tha Day
I cannie seem tae drift awa
gaither intae mesel tha wee budding roots
whare sleep can rest apon tha ilka dream
or float awa sae far intae a burning haze
O' splendour and delichts
fa in a' that here i bodied be
atween tha demented harmony
I cannie say worth a rote
tha whare aboots that fine weel I'm caught
atween tha lintel O loves sweet sway
and tha waking O tha day.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph 07/08/05