Dincara's Lair

Welcome to Dincaras Lair,

If you have browsed throughout our site, you would have no doubt encountered some poems along the way.

They have been randomly selected from the collections below and published within the site.

This poetry was written for many purposes, the main one being therapy to let the demons out. Other reasons would be of course love. Love for everything and everyone.

Below, is a randomly selected poem from our collations.

Every day we will pick a random collection and add a button to view it in it's entirity. Some have been put into their correct order, others are a shamble.

This is to keep everyone honest, and means you have to come back tomorrow and see what's on the slab.

Today, being the 26th of January 2020

We have chosen

Serenades to a Priceless Princess



Days of Memory


Insanity, it makes me cold,
Insanity, it takes control,
Insanity, it's got a hold,
On my inner soul.

So lay me down to sleep,
In that hole six foot deep.
And I promise never to creep,
From that long, deep sleep.

So I promised yesterday,
That in that hole I would stay.
But to silently lay;
I cannot do, forever a day.



All the chores are out the way,
Time to relax and have a chat.
Sessim bundles the kids and walks,
To see a friend who lives out back.

The children are placed in a room,
Her friend offers her a cup of coffee.
Sessim offers a tobacco joy in turn,
Then mentions that she'd prefer a cup of tea.

"Did you know Mabels doing George,
And that Marg is doing John?
Not to mention that John is doing George,
I wonder how the Jones's are getting on?"

This meaningless goes on for an eternity,
Filling the void in a time of nothing.
All good comes to an end,
The passing chat fades into the evening.

Paradise Contradiction


Black is to start this game.
The player is to be Mr Hussein.
He moves his pawn into Kuwait,
Hoping that no one will litigate.

But someone has seen his push;
White player is to be Mr Bush.
His pawn forms an alliance with the Saudi's,
Thus using their runways for the coming sorties.

The game is slow but continues,
It's propaganda splashed all over the news.
Officials see the forthcoming wedge,
Black is mindlessly on edge.

Black's name is now mud;
He unleashes the inaccurate SKUD.
Whitels next move is simple and plain;
Swift and brutal with his jet plane.

Black's knight moves to the border,
Officials are crying out for some order.
White retaliates with much the same,
Playing out this deadly game.

When it all comes to the end,
Who is foe, and who is friend?
Players seem to know when it begins,
That in the end no one wins.
March 1991 A.J. Corkery


Things Unseen

Disadvantaged by isolation I see naught,
That is to say I see less than I ought.
Naïve by the virtue of my young age,
I see the falling of a worldly rage.

I didn’t live and feel the age of old,
If I did my eyes would be blunt with cold.
Their hurt is read about in books of history,
A future to them shrouded by mystery.

I hear that our history is changing too,
Maybe it would be favourable to an elite few.
The people’s voice appears to be stronger,
Airing words that peace could last even longer.

I can only hear, see, think with thought,
Presented by the news so I am taught.
To voice an opinion both cut and clean,
I cannot do for these things unseen.

Serenades to a Priceless Princess

A New Sense

Something tells me it’s going to be all right,
Loving and listening all through the night.
A new sense of considerable power and might,
Developing within this child of the night.
Even as this yet unborn continues to grow,
Eventually it’s gender we shall finally know.
Zest, energy, full and ready to go,
Racing forward to start the show.
Answers that will soon be revealed,
Returning of the flowers to a barren field,
Oppressors will fear the power that you wield.
Changing their views on a world healed.
Come and dance with me,
Over here, with the other three.


A Gathering of Kin

The Four came to the one,
The four whom he had sired.
For three timing was too late,
His life was all but expired.

In a room silent and bare,
He was alone no more.
Although body was never to respond,
His spirit lifted this I saw.

Like a gathering of kin,
Being with him to the end.
Not thinking of him as a father,
But comforting a long lost friend.

The Lone Wolf cries,
Out aloud in the night.
For it has lost a mate,
Stolen away on this silent night.

You walked from the hill,
Of the old rugged cross.
You did carry no burden,
For naught was lost.

The Garden

Foreword (The Garden)

Garden is a small shire, within the boundaries of the sinister Nothing. The people, both animated and mortal, keep their shire clean and beautiful. They also protect their shire from natural foes. Life is usually calm and tranquil in this serene shire, known as Garden.

Nothing's infamous tyrant, Natas, wants most, if not all, of Nothing under his total control. He usually leaves Garden alone. That is until he gets bored with his demonic means of entertainment.

The actual land mass, Nothing, is surrounded by a shallow void; namely "Nothing's Void". To the northern tip of Nothing, across it's Void, lies the Ancient Lands. It was there, were the Ancients would wander (and wonder) about. I say used to; as they were all wiped out by an unpleasant plague. The inhabitants of Nothing, were protected from this horrid plague by the sheer vastness of Nothing's Void.

In the following poems and letters, you will have the opportunity of getting to know most of the Inhabitants; most, not all. You will meet the Wanderer, who with the use of his TRIPPER (Time Rectifier in Parallel Places, Envelope Runner), visits the Ancients.

A fact, which you might find startling, is that Garden, Nothing, and their inhabitants actually exist. There is a piece of the Wanderer, in all of us. What's more, Nothing and Garden aren't that far away. Everything has it's good with it's bad.

Everywhere you look, there is a fragment of Nothing in what you see.