It robs me
as sure as any villain
This moment, this time
dressed upon itself
laying in wait, the second
when snatched away
It steals my heart.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

A woman's heart
such a delicate flower
that blooms upon the rich warm fields
Where love calls its name.

Each petal of her
like a rich brocade
woven to the sheer delights
That fills a woman's Soul.

It is in her
that truly all mystery arises
Holds dear to form and substance
The dreams that are the worlds.

But this heart
How so it pounds
thrives for the consistency
that eternal need.

To be shared, consumed, held
In the vibrancy of want, passion
In the delicate sound of a word
in the soft touch of a hand.

It engulfs, holds her,
rushing deep
fills every gap
And makes her whole.

To live in the fantasy
where wants collide upon the breath
The sweet instinctive musk
that arouses from the depths of them.

Their passion that quivers upon
Through and for that gentle touch
To be loved whole and sweetly
lived in and with that erupting soul.

They strive in its simplicity
their want, their need
For loves fulfillment
that shines from their eyes.


Alisdaire O'Caoimph

I wander here again
as many the day before
for a span of years this mind
roams upon the shore.

Little remembrances
re-educates the heart once more
to the simple easy days
When life held open its core.

The sun glistens upon the sea
the wind soft to form
caresses here the jagged weeds
the thistle and the thorn.

I wander deep my old paths
were in youth I roamed and played
the magic of the fairytale
was the land and what it gave.

Sweet the dreams that flood and fill
these tranquil moments in time
holds bright the promise of another day
As upon the hills I climb
.
Where mighty hawk hovers above
where the cliffs race to the sea
To those lochs that are ever so fresh
to the sweet mornings plea.

I journey back across the years
as fate has had me roam
To see the land of which I'm part
to feel my distant home.

There's no shore like that of hers
no field that hugs the soul
just empty planes without any names
that runs a foreign flow.

I dream of her my seductive queen
when the nights are cold and dark
I see her there inviting me
Dressed in her heather sark.


Alisdaire O'Caoimph

She holds these butterfly dreams
these dragonfly visions
always before her eyes
to materialize
The longed for want that within abides
the tear that cannot hide,
this deliverance of love
that flutters within her heart as a dove
longing the expression, the want
To fly high the fields of hope
Where she can cope
with the uncertainties, the fears
that within her at times sheers
her world apart to the doubt
Of all that she does want.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

His fingers roam
where her raven hair lays
against her almond skin
Teases gently the form that arouses
begs his hungering touch
To the consuming want, that desire
that floods his veins
Pounds so deep within his chest
The longing to be within her
To kiss the sweet form of her body
Dress her to his needs and passions.
All falls upon the splendor
that her thoughts grace with his
the dialog of the wanting promise
to be filled, fulfill
in this quarter of blissful dreams
That holds her tight here to his.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

That I miss you
Oh! How faint these words are to the truth
That without you, I lay empty
alone to the charge of night and day
That you are as a whisper
constant to stray upon my mind
harbour deep within my dreams.
The longing I hold
stretches out across the miles
wages myself against myself
In a battle I never win,
For it's all that I dream
There beside you-holding
wanting to feel your warmth against mine
The need to be, really be
That somehow deep you draw me too.
It's the soft touch of your hands I feel
when these eyes of mine close,
The smell of your hair, your skin
That fragrant aroma of life.
It's the love in your eyes
that calls me from the depth of my Soul
That I love, most devotedly, most holy
these moments, days and nights
That seem to pass so fast
Themselves a dream.
I miss you
where my heart beats
this soul of mine resides
There, here, before you
Always to confide
That which love so speaks.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

That the wiggle of a tongue
can so excite
liberate the texture of the flesh
Raise another to the height
where delight
fills and locates deep within
the silent scream.

That, that bud that brims its full
can so intoxicate, fill the pool
where passion lays in its ultimate wait
for the passage through the sensual gate
that arises within her moaning form
That deep eternal wanting groan.

Where deep the long soft flickering curl
liberates the mind, to toss and whirl
in the sensual heat and passions fire
that flows deep from this buds throbbing desire
and pours out upon the sweet, sweet flesh
the small goose bumps that within arise
Where passion holds no compromise.

That I take you upon such a delighted stream
fill that want, awaken within the dream
These lips, this tongue that awaits its charge
teases, torments your world at large
to every whimper, every plead
Drinks deep your *** of honey mead
and falls upon your cries and pleasure
With all the jewels of This Oral treasure.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph