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 15th of December 2018

We have chosen

Paradise Contradiction


Days of Memory

Hero of a Dream

I have a son and a daughter,
And a lovely young wife.
I think to myself,
We lead a simple life..

He's one of a kind!

A puppet in a lonely chair,
He looks terribly bored.
He thinks to himself,
Hey! I'll start a war.

He's become a little blind!

"Huh, how do I start?
A push here or push there.
A pinch of salt and maybe
I'll throw in a scare."

He loves to dream!

"Oh no! What's happening?
It's got so out of hand.
No one loves me anymore.
Everything has become so bland."



Standing on his platform,
Only he can see.
Life at it's best,
Life through his reality.

Standing on his platform,
Wearing his armour of cloth,
He sees not a soul;
So he incurs no-ones' wrath.

Passer-byes see him stand,
Closed umbrella aiming for the sky.
Black shirt, white tie and grey suit;
Black briefcase held roughly chest high.

He sees them naught,
For he holds the sword of light,
His armour of ancient tradition,
Not to mention the shield of a knight.

Standing on any platform,
As anyone can surely see.
Life has it's splendour;
Life has it's beauty.

Paradise Contradiction

Weeping Willow

Where? Of where are you,
My weeping willow tree?
Is this terrain too rough,
To support one as fragile as thee?
This place is good for others,
Who have the same as your needs.
They live on in harmony,
Throwing into the wind their seeds.
Like a carpet of green,
They spread out for miles,
Surrounding a water hole of rock,
A travellers view captivated for miles.
If only you could see it,
My weeping willow tree,
Your tears would dry up,
To feel so full and so free.


Where's the Wall

Where's the wall I'm trying to find,
So I can drive these thoughts from my mind.
To receive it's pleasure I need the wall,
Then I can see what I'm searching for.

The body craves for it's addictive damage,
Yet the soul creates a new way to manage.
Although the wall is hard and cold to the touch,
The body still desires it's violence too much.

The head becomes numb from the bashing,
Images smashing their way through the crashing.
We continue to stagger through until, thud!
Recognition has the sweet taste of warm blood.

I found the wall I've been searching for,
Why wasn't it there when I looked before.
But the wall is too high as you can see,
That there's nothing of what used to be me.

Serenades to a Priceless Princess

Mariah's Fire

In a room of ying and yang,
I sit with the winds of Mariah.
Their images rose in tune and sang,
If only to confuse all sense of desire.

Although there's no loneliness in being alone,
The void is prone to an uneasy torment.
It can be eased by word of the phone,
But it's intention is lost all be it meant.

Soul mates they say never part,
They manage to find each other forever.
But absence from the other grabs the heart,
They both see hell hanging on a thin tether.

Months fit into eternity two fold,
Carried by the winds of Mariah.
The only inspiration to keep the heart from cold,
Is to feel the warmth of your fire.


Title to Song

Oh I do recall my first, real, memory,
At the age of three, what a man stood in front of me.
Three fingers on his left hand was all he had,
And it made me sad.
But it made me glad,
To shake his hand;
“Shake hands with a gentleman” is what he said to me,
Beautiful memories of a child of three.

Out of the darkness comes, more, memories,
Through the house, out the back past the almond trees.
Three sheds stood like sentries, eyes had no tears,
Brewing beer and fishing gear,
Wood turnings there and here,
Then he took my hand;
“Shake hands with a gentleman” is what he said to me,
Beautiful memories of a child of three.

As I travel through life’s, strange, mysteries,
The path I walk, is shaped by what was behind those trees.
The Man, the sheds, his beliefs, his abilities,
For there was no lock,
For which he had no keys.
I took his frail hand,
“Shake hands with a gentleman” is what I said to him,
Beautiful memories of a man of twenty three.

The Garden


Spies have informed Kindaal of invading Wigrae;
The whole entire force of the Wigrae.
Kindaal has shown compassion in asking for the Niknogard.
It is here that together, they planned V-Day.

Vengeance Day was to go down in history:
Angel Mountain and the sun about to shine.
The Wigrae and Niknogard on opposing sides.
The Wigrae encountered the sun's rays and became blind.

Their vision was restored to meet the battle,
With this the Niknogard commenced their battle cry.
The numbers were more even in this fight,
Except that more Wigrae were going to die.

Casualties resulted, heavily on both sides,
The Wigrae's numbers deteriorated rapidly.
Their true colours started to show,
They began a retreat rather haphazardly.