Artists and magicans

Bridge

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

All artists, all Magicans

A blank empty canvas
Pure as the winter's snow
Open as but a vast window
Seeing deep into it's soul.

The mind ticks in emotional frustration
Relics of imagination fly and form
Particles of atomic consciousness
Gathers and flows like an Astro storm.

White wash covers the surface
The first invocation soothing and mild
Then images gather before the eyes
Like a raging storm, fierce and wild.

The pallet is filled with rainbow mixtures
Here one joins to the alchemist's dream
Establishing upon board, paper or canvas
The unfoldment of the creative stream.

Brush in hand, Like an ancient wand
One casts the horizon like a spell
Summoning, coaxing, those tides within
Where the possession conquered, flowed and fell.

Dashes here, strokes there
Balancing the tones within each hew,
The thoughts so fast, mind captured
Projections all of that inner you.

Murky and shapeless at the start
But shadows enhance, inward glance
Light engulfs and shines but through
The eyes captured to the romance.

The artist gallant before his glory
Yet! Never fulfilled by its view
Playing upon its essence and structure
He draws upon images new.

One here becomes the timeless Shaman
Working the magic of natures way
Gathering the similarities and imbuing with fire
Elevating ever the thought to the creative day.

Or like a modern mystic
Grasped tight in spiritual bliss
subduing into but representations
The reflections of the heaven's kiss.

But all in all the artist is
whether by paint, sculpture, acrylic or oil
A voyager of the main stream existence
His vision of his own scared soil.

The goal is not unlike any science
To acquire that bridge of untold reason
For artist down throughout the ages
Have awakened the soul to its season.

The emotions arise, fly, excite
Those creatures of the inspirational mind
Poets, musicians, painter, writers
By what ever character there we find
All artists, All Magicians.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Suicide

It's a fall down the stairs
the deliberate action of miss guided steps
rotates the axis of body and form
That crashes fast the nightmare.
I agonize to the pits decay
the frolicking thoughts
there displayed
against the window frame
the sheared glass
Where drips the red dye of life.
Crimson seeds populate the fragile
delicate balance of pain
To the nightly screams that draw
Fills one sore to the unenlightened refrain.
Ticking its seconds
awaiting some external cure
Bordering upon a fancy
Lusting deaths mask to sweep and bind
The lonely hour
The desperate sigh.
Raging inside
begging between the damned
and some hope for light
encouraged in the sinking
that choking plea
strangling the inconsistencies
I court the dark riders course
hoofs pounding nearer
the hearts remorse
Fades the gasp
Of suicide.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Robert Louis Stevenson

Scots Poet,Writer

Tell To You

I navigate these wide streams
lay forth my projected desires
upon those soft delicate ripples
that sooth so well my timed embrace.
Lay you deep into my dreams
tease gently the noble mirth
that fills the excited embers of your fire
Till aroused to the perfected being
You climb that gentle flow
burning deep the gasp of the eternals
till soon the rage fills the pores and senses deep
erratic thoughts flood and fill
Bursting out upon the nights whispering chill
You consume the delight between your thighs.
I lay to the perfected dream, the realization
that the consuming embers too filled my soul
leaving me engulfed, vanquished beside you
Smiling the deep, warm in the paradox of passion
I feel the glory of all the Gods call sacred
know the intensity of sweetened bliss
and whisper life's true meaning
The love, I tell to you.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Her Children Home

Who understands better if not a Gael

that walks these open fields to the vibrancy

that life calls upon each dale and honey carved Ben

The Soul of dreams, the plain of tears

That wells out from every blade of green

or blooming flower that's fragrance holds

The essence of the fathers, their blood and song.

Caledonia, How great your form holds

the texture of each living Soul

How well you breath fills our lungs

To the glory of these lands, our home.

A country filled with the labor of sorrow

that sings its haunting, vaulting air upon the night

Cries us to our weary bones

And drives us upon her illustrious light.

This home, this place

that fills our whole universe

where dreams are gathered deep

and tomorrow is the sunrise of our hopes

This place that gathers brother to brother

in word, deed and tone

sets us out upon the world

as bearers of her light and beauty,

To call her wandering children home.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Painting Gimel-daleth behind

Ring O' Brodgar

Painted

He has painted a thousand picture
this dreamer of the dream
Mixed his colour, dressed his canvas
Sketched his adornment
laid paint to form
etched the shadows that fall
holds the captive perspective
and rain, pours down
from those emotional webs within
every angle and line
perplexed thought
dream
layer to layer
blended to textures
He creates his universe
such simplistic lines
that here holds him upon its grasp
A realization
that from his works
everything is and was
but reflections of what he saw
Within her eyes.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

William Butler Yeats

teller of the tales

William Butler Yeats

Farewell the hoped for wish
the dandelion fantasy of the woods
The falling waters cascading swirl
Good-bye, Adieu, O' fairie's shawl,
Where the butter cup rises and thereby sings
The Sun's warm promise, it's divine kiss
Where these fields grasp the breath of day
The winds sweep to the constant array
of vibrancy that is life's blessed state
here in these images remember well
The fallen bard, his spoken spell.
I hear the honey filled taverns calling
the blessed isle over the horizon
Seeks again this wandering soul to home
To the fields of the Sidhe to roam.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Shaker window KY

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Dazed, Baffled

She roams through my mind
in combustive states
that dissolve the elusive run,
melts the pot to her honey
invades the forefront
charging the grounds of my thoughts
Invigorating the new.

Dazed, baffled,
I wake to her sunshine
drenched to her love,
How direction finds us
draws us close, subdues us
with little worlds, big thoughts
these concepts of women
That change ever our horizons.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Best Buy Coupons