"intae" poems
A Lone Walker nowe Ah!
Intae Theis Murky Naycht
‘Yont Whin-Rock menacin’,
Ewry Wound bygane an’ the Scar
Freish Bluid o’ mine fuelin’,
Lang, lang, IT! the Blacklyn Howr,
Unfathomable, Unearthly,
Verra Guid Fyre wearin’,
Burnan Hye! Gore o’ mine
Awa, awa, IT owre spilled!
Soil o’ Alabaster gravin’,
An’ abön, Great Orrah! a Presence yirr,
Near-hand ay flashin’,
Rumblin’, guid tremblin’,
Lyke a Rhodium-Demon Hyear
Unco! stick-an-stowe towerin’,
An’ a Mirror-Vision ay broo!
O’ Red Gore fuil an’ pruid!
Great Rowth ragin’!
Human nae, nae IT laanger!
Heyne intae Theis Skye-Mirror,
Image o’ mine! nae, nae IT laanger!
Ma Rubye Brooch Micht, och!
Stylle haiwin',
An' wae Veins o’ Deep Lowe imbued,
Ma ain stylle! Glamis’ Orrah! Dearest!
Athwart ma Solitarye Gait
Ays a Storm-Blast fallin’,
An’ wnto me! wnto me noo, IT!
O’er an’ o’er! Carham’s Scyld-Hel Orrah!
Stylle Theis Dangerus! Verra Dangerus, IT!
Highlan’ Thwndir-Rode o’ mine
Intae Theis Guid Kintra whooshin’,
An’ the nae ****** Cauld Landis Micht,
Swaird-Wounded, stylle Ironclad Ah!
Fore’er unco! wi’in Oun Hye Fyre
Thro’ nae croud strollin’,
Ays yf frae Hye Þunor His-sel
The Lone War-Whisper Weel-Gaun!
Wae Thae Verra Woirds o’ Battle-Angyr
Lewdlie! Theis Specular Bluish Fyre o’ mine!
Thus Thwndir-Taukin’:
NUNC IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
QUIA FOCUS TEMPESTATIS MODO EST TIBI
ET VEXILLA FULMINIS PRODEUNT UNIVERSI
IN FERRO CAERULEO SANGUINEQUE
AD TE PICTORUM NOCTE TETRA
ET IN SPECULO RESULTANTE FORMA
THOR GOTHORUM UBI DESCENDET LAETO
AB ULTIMA GLITNIR MAGNO MALLEO
DEUS FLAVUS QUI ALTO FERRO SECURIQUE
TONITRUO INDIGNAM VIAM MALEDIXIT
FULMINIS IGITUR TETRA UMBRA TUA
ALTA FLAMMA CALIGINEA VEXILLAQUE
SUPREMO IGNE OVERMAN ULTOR.
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 6:54 AM UTC
Apon tha roll O' tha pagan's dream
As it leaps an' boun's apon tha mental stream
Flowing doon intae tha cordons o' solitaire
Near tha brigs O' tha banks O' Bonnie Ayr.
Tha whispering Hazel catches huld tha tune
Echoing tha mysteries a' tha wae tae Troon
As a glimmer O' lichtning crosses tha Sky
He, tha ancient an' grand Wizard stoans apon Carrick high.
Configurations an' transformations by god
Far ayond tha concepts o' tha blunnering sod
Catch hold Lad tha spirit as it flees past ye
Heading oot taewards Arran across tha sea.
Does no tha Seagull scream tae enchant tha ******
an' the win' blaws like some evil melody played by a Demon
An' dinnie wait tae lang tae grasp tha chain
O' life's faithful given, tha Barley, Wheat an' Grain.
But come see tha Mither apon her Earth filled seat
As tae tha wonnerous farmer She bows tae Greet
That apon tha Seasons O' echoed fate they may come tae restore
Tha True religion O' this land, O' this flaming shore.
Nue listen an' be quite till pass a' hoors break
an' bin' ye thagither tha dreams an' thouchts that ye take
an' cast it a' apon tha Fires O' Beltanes torch
Tae watch as tha flames reach higher an' higher, tha heevens tae scorch.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 1:45 PM UTC
Och! Airn an' Thwndir!
An' Urquhart's Wae Verra Hel!
Great Warlike Glamis' Firey,
An' Hwmyd Loch Doon's Orrah!
Downe! Downe! tae thad howch owre miserable!
Ye a' swithe hame, hame! wae ma Airn ***
An' weile 'yont yondir Suthron!
Waefu', waefu' heyre Ah! War-Ironclad heyne Ȝell,
Wae burr-thistle’s Gowlin’ Storne Micht!
Frae ma verra, verra! Ah ageyne!
Tae the Cauld Enraged Wynde
Unco! intae Æternall Battle Scorchin'
Towardis Moorlan Chain Mail-Bosom o' mine!
O'er an' o'er IT! increasingly thro' Force returnin',
Wae ma verra Blacklyn Tartan o' War heyne,
An' Silvery Brooch, wi'in yondir Lone Sceadewe!
Unco! wae the Rubye Stane deep-shimmerin'
Naixt tae Carham's Gory Landis, an' the Targe-Hell,
Thro’ nowe Tune Martial, stick-an-stowe Ȝell!
Airn-Curse Core-Firey, Hye-Flamin' IT!
Heyne unco rychte Airn-Moorlan o'er ye a'!
Ah, bye nowe the FEUDAL OWAR-MANN!
'Yont thad Auld Whunstane Tower-Shrine
Togider wae Lang Titanium-Claymore, Airn-Dazzlin'
An' ne'er, ne'er, IT! stick-an-stowe tae wane!
Wi'in theis Bluish Fyre syne! Verra War-Swaird Rairan IT,
Intae Thae Hringiren Æternall, Thwndir-Devastatin' o' mine!
QVOAD FEODALE MEA CVM RVBRA SPATHA
ET RELVCENTE HOC SCVTO AC FVLMINE NIVEO
SCOTORVM INTRA HANC TEMPESTATEM MAGNAM
QVÆ FLOS IGNEVS EST TONITRVO NOMINE ALTO
NEMO GELIDO HOC LOCO IMPVNE ME LACESSIT.
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 4:42 AM UTC
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
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
Tis but a dream!
Flowing wildly,
Intae tha memories
Tha goals, tha desires,
Delving intae tha deepths
Touching tha he'rt,
Romancing tha soul
Exciting tha senses,
Pulling at tha emotions.
Tis but a dream!
Aye sae true,
Yet e'er sae real
an' yin begins tae act,
within its wonnerous play
Rememmering,
such nichts
Her purfume, her form,
An all else fades
Save for her touch,
Her smile, her love.
For she tis but a phantom,
A ghost O lang ago
That haunts nue my e'er dream.
Tis but a dream?
Aye ,tis but a dream!
Tis but a dream!
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 7:22 AM UTC
Och! Airn an’ Thundir! Great Orrah!
Ere ye a' sune an’ syne fast, verra fast ***
Wae Verra Skye-Storne Hye,
Skye-Unleashed, IT! Clitheroe's Gory Orrah!
Frae mah Burnan’ Skye-Rage,
An' unco Airn-Curse o’er ye a',
Downe, downe! owre downe!
Theis Moorlan Firey Grass flyin’,
Dinna Daur! Ah say, Dinna Daur!
Tae mah Verra Skye-Roaran’
An' Skye-Furious Bellum, Guid Orrah!
Nae tae baith nowe listen!
Nor tae set futis ageyne, Ah say!
Wae yer unco dishonorable duds,
Oan Theis Verra Nobil Glamis’ Hal’,
Kingdom o' Scotland IT, Airn-Auld,
Robert th' Bruce Micht,
Ironclad, her Ruler, wae Wois Loud!
Fore, ne’er, ne’er, Ah skye-yell;
AH UNCO WADNA!
AH UNCO WADNA!
Great Guid, Verra Guid Orrah!
Wae mah Bleezan Skye-Blade o’ War,
An’ Verra, Verra Guid Gilded Targe,
Auldfarran, juist twich ye a'!
Whene'er, an’ unco fore’er,
Intae THEIS DEEP LOCH O' RID HEL,
An' thro' yondir War-Thundir, och!
Wae mah Skye-Skean steel-fechtin’.
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC
Suddenly the plot sickens… Lurching out of a comatose state, the sudden onset of panic…left with a past that has never passed…was and is always present. At present, past and a past present, both distinctly different from the present prospect of the past degenerating already into a future prospect which will never be. Suffer that. Being prey to anxiety, nostalgia and hope…. to attain from time to time the absolute serenity of a perception of timelessness, a state of lack of perception of time; to fuse together some brief fragments of eternity, we can perceive on this side of life, through a glass darkly. Though eventually will perceive with crystal clarity, in sharp focus. Simulators. Emulators. I keep bumpin’ intae mysel. That’s just the point. Around the bend. It’s not the end. Sons of fear and sorrow, will you cheer tomorrow? Sons of toil and danger, will you serve a stranger? A new beginning, never ending. Still sometimes I feel so low that I want tae “top mysel.” But I will go on. God is ma strength. He is ma Salvation. The only Way, The Truth and The Life. Love. Always was and always will be. HE IS.
Feb 18, 2024
Feb 18, 2024 at 8:27 AM UTC
Skellums! Intae doomed countra
Ironclad ah dwell,
Claymore flashing in yon mirror,
And o'er the dreary muir.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 12:09 PM UTC