I look

 

It is here that I look
into those eyes that warm my soul
Tease into the self pity of doubt
that love could bloom so fine.
 
I shall trace
the delicate texture of your face
pour out the gentle need, your want
Beat my heart to your heart
feel warmth for warmth
kiss for kiss.
 
Oh the gentle winds carry
 fast and true
These thoughts of you
to ride the tempest abode of my soul
To the need and love of you.
 
Alisdaire O'Caoimph

The Shaman's drum

 

O' the beat of the Shaman's drum
gathering the statures of Skills embrace
Whose liquid fire flows from dream's burning Kiln
upon the roaring ancient thunders of leather skin
revolutionary moments of spiritual embrace
the Shaman cooing in his antic pantomime
of symbolic gestures and ideals
Crafting always anew the Heaven's sky
pounding the Earth upon charging hoofs
the sacred land arises like a giant
all characters of the Shaman's drum
Swooping God's on feathers of Eagles
trout swarm into the tribal dance
Mountains of golden rock shake the dust
For all engulfs the visions being
Thrusting the news and glory of the Fathers
the land becomes their Eternal coats of skin
Their Souls fluffy, white, float softly above
filled with the midnight rain
In the Dance of Shaman to Shaman
The Eternals pay their honour and respects
before the mighty Shaman's call
His vocal dialect and sacred Soul
Invoking as all before had done
With a Shaman's will and a Shaman's Drum.

 

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

 

Her Voice

 

I heard her voice
How well it draws the reality
That clear fine tone
That rings so deep
So precious
Upon the chords of my soul.

 

Like a song
That constantly lingers
breed deep into the mind
That one hums without the Knowing
Such the voice
That echo's here.

 

Or like a Dawn
That bursts it's explosive
Display of being
and truly awakens
Deep within every essence of life
In that voice
I've seen It.

 

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

 

Sacred Mead

 

Come the morning rain
That cool refreshing flow
That fills all the land
With the blessings you bestow.

 

The hungry flowers open up
To grasp your eternal brew
The Daffodil, The Buttercup
Lay awaiting just for you.

 

Come those sparkling drops
That are filled with Natures care
Giving life to the thirsty crops
To all their equal share.

 

The Hare hops the soaking grass
On meadows of emerald green
The streets a mirror of reflecting Glass
All fresh and washed pure clean.

 

Beauty knows no boundaries
As true as eyes can see
Like the glory of Heaven's foundries
That empties to the sea.

 

Your the sacred Mead of the Dagda
Replenishing and invigorating through
For the Gods have come to share with us
Their own sacred brew.

 

Alisdaire O'Caoimph