• alisdaire_ocaoimph 5w

    bahag Hari
    (The king's G-string)
    A philippino love story.

    When sweet to the fruit
    Liberates hungers call to
    Man becomes whole.


    I saw her
    There where
    The streams
    Waterfall flows
    Down like a dream

    Naked she bathed
    When crystal waters
    Poured across her form
    Breasts firm, body slim
    Her dark rich sandy skin
    Drew my breath away.
    Hair dark as midnight
    Sparkles of water
    Like stars in the sky
    Dripped off silken hair
    Running down.

    We met where eyes dark
    Themselves deep into
    My soul, we loved
    Where daylight gave
    Our kisses to fly
    Like fairy wings upon
    The air
    They held us tight.

    Oh! Life you deviant beast
    So caters to tear apart
    When it seems life's found peace.
    I was poor, below her grace
    Though with her I was a king
    But fathers grown old forget
    The springs from which they spring
    I mourned daily her touch
    The love I had filled within
    She forced to live far away
    As if love true was a sin.

    Oh years passed the sad paths
    Where loneliness held my sway
    15 years had crossed the great
    Divide, where love held it's day
    I saw a child walking by
    I swore was my love
    Eye as dark, skin so smooth
    That she brightened here my day
    We talked of places far and wide
    Journeyed humours gates
    Pressed the visions for a while
    Exchanged each other's names.

    She told her youth so far away
    Where her mother once had lived
    She told a story that broke the heart
    How her mother touched the grave
    Her father she said she never knew
    But her mother told her tales
    Of a heart she captured long ago
    In a waterfall nearby
    Her mother pined away her days
    In dreams of her lost love
    And told her daughter to seek
    The man she loved.

    I saw it then, cried my fill
    As I told her the full story
    And here I learned the gods
    Had graced
    The meaning of our love.
    For tales are heard
    Life is cruel
    Yet love carries through
    Here before me I adore
    My daughter true.

    There are stories old
    Oft times bold
    That wing upon our souls
    The story old of a fairy love
    Of a woodsman and a fae
    How the gods took her away
    The rainbow became
    To them the key
    To come again to be
    My daughter here
    Prescious, dear
    Was the rainbow
    Between her mother
    And me.

    Alisdaire O'Caoimph