Best Chancer Poems
Too little
too late
God said to me
in this dream I had about fate
So I asked him
what did he expect,
A goody two shoes
a prophet
a saint
to be something I ain’t
Not at all he said
I want to be entertained
Eternity is boring
mostly people snoring
especially at night
and during the day on occasion
Look god! I walk around an
Amazon warehouse all day
pigeon-holing tat
picking this and that
How am I supposed to amuse you
Well I do enjoy you
breaking stuff on purpose
sabotaging the line
Bunking off for a smoke
going to the toilet
and drinking erm… doing coke
Ok hands up!
I admit
I’m a total chancer
and do stuff I shouldn’t
But it’s alright isn’t it
that Amazon place is full of s-hit
Yes it is a terrible kip
but more fun when you entertain
Like in your last job
listening to you lie
not taking the blame
asking me to help out
In your moment of doubt
All that stuff you stole
and barely got away with
on the whole
That was quite funny!
Oh the (paper and plastic) I gathered,
before selling it to the highest bidder
Throwing expensive stock out in the trash
The owner was a bastard
all things considered
a miserly swine
But nevermind
Thanks!
I did need a dig out that time
Hey! remember when I was aged about 7
and was told my pal went to heaven
Why did it happen
A year later walking to school with another kid
he was only 8
And that nut-job attacked us with a hammer
Put a hole in my friends head
The blood pumped in fountains of red
I thought he was dead
All the gore I’ve seen
witnessed a killing at 18
Trying to hold down an abattoir job in between
Yes! Life ain’t pretty by design
sometimes the stars just won’t align
Others times they go nova
and leave black holes behind
still you’ll never really understand
The powers in command
So how about this poem
Will it see me home
Does it amuse you
are we cool?
You’re still alive aren’t you!
By
David Kavanagh
I guess we can struggle when we sit down to write
But use your own words - to plagiarise isn’t right
When I read a poem that’s simply too good to be true
I then begin to question, was it even written by ‘you’
If I google a few lines will give me the answer
You’re caught read handed – you are a chancer
I just want to read poems that I’ve never read before
If I find copied poems I won’t read ‘yours’ any more
Why claim words from another writer, as it is a crime
You’ll never find stolen words in any poem of mine
7th February 2015
Furnace pink roses blushed on your cheeks,
I held my breath when I saw you there,
Stood in the sand in a gossamer dress,
That clung to your form as the breeze caught your hair.
Bruises of rain clouds filled up your eyes,
I held you close when your spirits were low,
The feel of your skin was electrically cool
As the rain swept your face and your eyes were aglow.
I’m just a chancer who stood in your path,
I borrowed the beat of your heart just for me,
I still feel your skin in that gossamer dress
As the sun fell behind you and sank in the sea.
And I never found one last moment to spare,
I gave not one second to grant one last kiss,
But when you close your eyes I pray I’ll be there,
There’s nothing else for it, nothing but this.
Susie's pet name was Wanda-zilla
and hailed from jungles near Manila.
Her poetry was swill
so to pay all her bills
she did strip shows for native gorillas.
She went to merry old U.K.
To make more money stripping all day.
When folks voted for Brexit
they meant Susie must exit
to get rid of the smell right away.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Susie looked like an ugly gorilla
A cousin of that monster Godzilla
With flaccid pink lips
And wobbly fat hips
She appeared on the video ‘Thriller’
The director who chose her that day
Said Don’t put on your make up today” …
With no mask on your face
You won’t look out of place
And your dance moves will blow folks away”
Susie then thought she’d found the answer
She’d work as a naked pole dancer
But not one man would pay
They said please go away …
Put your clothes back on you fat chancer!
BY JAN ALLISON
Wanda-zilla is a great name for ugly, Susie
Always batting her eyes like a low-life floozy
Painted lips on a gorilla
Looking like Phyllis Diller
As a pole dancer she must've been a doozy
BY LIN LANE
Godzilla saw her and stole her away
I think he wanted to toy with her play
but she put up a fight
all through the night
and insisted that she had to stay
BY MYSTIC ROSE
She seductively ate a banana with zeal
But that day it just got too real
In her ugly mouth
It all went south
Her and a banana without appeal!
BY ROGERPAT ADAMS
I consulted a tyromancer
To see if I could find an answer
She consulted some cheese
And told me so much sleaze
I’m convinced she’s just a fat chancer!
Written after I read an article in the dentist’s waiting room today and I discovered that Tyromancy is form of divination involving observation of cheese, especially as it coagulates
09-19-17
Puppet on your strings
You own me...
own my body and soul.
You play me...
you've taken complete control.
You can do anything
that you want ...with me
You play me... (I'm like)
a puppet on your strings
Watch me now!
You can make me, do anything
I'm willing...
'Cause I'm your puppet ...yeah
I'm a puppet on your strings
I'll be your...
tiny dancer
I'll be your...
soul romancer
I'll be your...
2nd chancer
I'll be your...
final answer
Pull me this way
Pull me that way
Pull me over
Pull me closer
I'll do anything for you
baby,
'cause I'm your puppet
I'm a puppet on your strings
So come on over now...
and play me...
pull those strings...
and I'll dance for you.
John Derek Hamilton
March 04, 2017
It's the devil's dance, he is a chancer,
As he tries to take this life to cancer.
The news to fill your heart with dread,
As you, process words inside your head.
This news it brings a bitter sting,
The devil's joy that fate can bring.
He's a chancer bold in every way,
In truth, your thoughts, filled with dismay.
We face this news as laughter dies,
With a heavy heart and teary eyes.
The tears that run they stain our cheeks.
His vice like grip, the devil, speaks.
Your thoughts they turn to hope and fear,
This devil's waltz, so insincere.
As he leads and takes you by the hand,
Our teardrops fall in no-man's-land.
For though he leads you in a trance,
Transfixed within, this devils dance.
It's the fear of knowing the unknown,
A life once had is overthrown.
Leads up a path where no one plays,
It's dark and lonely passageways.
"Your life," he taunts a mocking cheer,
"Is but a game." to draw you near!
I let him waltz and play his hand,
I'll find the strength to make a stand.
My life is worth more than his game.
Where angels fly I'll stake my claim.
My hair is dyed to hide the grey and how my boobies sag
But I have it on good authority I’m a ‘Walnut Wag’
A ‘Walnut Wag’ … what’s that you may ask
I will enlighten you for that’s my task
A ‘Walnut Wag’ is the partner of someone with prostate cancer
This cancer can be cured so don’t let your man be a chancer
From our experience early detection is the key
With treatment your man can be cancer free
15th January 2016
I guess we can struggle when we sit down to write
But use your own words - to plagiarise isn’t right
When I read a poem that’s simply too good to be true
I then begin to question, was it even written by ‘you’
If I google a few lines it will give me the answer
You’ve been caught red handed – you were a chancer
I just want to read poems that I’ve never read before
If I find stolen work I won’t read ‘yours’ any more
Why claim words from another writer, as it is a crime
You’ll never find stolen words in any poem of mine
Part 1 posted on soup 7th February 2015
Part 2 ...
To obtain contest glory and gong
You stole another's words, it's so wrong
Plagiarism is vile
You've done it quite a while
I’m hoping this is your swan song
Hollander died aged eighty three
So tell me how could it be
His work’s here on soup
‘you’ wrote it – that’s poop
Soup booted this fraud speedily!
Sadly the culprit has once again been posting stolen work soup even entering it for contests, thanks to eagle eyed souper's he has been removed once more.
30th December 2019
Zila 'the killa' chinchilla as he was known
Sat in his villa on his golden throne
He was a marvel a maverick a real joker
A prancer, a chancer, a lifelong nonsmoker
Our boy 'the killa'.
Never mediocre, always bodacious
With girls he was, I say, flirtatious
Feeling alive never monotonous so audacious
Fur so soft they cried "goodness gracious".
That a boy the killa.
He put his looks to use
Cringey styles gave him abuse
On the catwalk flawless a real Zeus
Shuffling on four feet he did enthuse
The little bugger was let loose
Our furry friend the killa!
He did play hardball he made a racquet
His fame put him in a new tax bracket
Shops now selling his slick leather jackets
The naysayers who said he won't hack it
Killa's chirping like a feathery blue tit
Our dear old friend the Killa!
If there's something the Killa can teach us
To profit in this world you gotta have guts
Analyze that minus and change it to a plus
He made no fuss he never cussed
Call him a wus he will go nuts
He's one of us, the Killa!
Your light at night will draw many men out
In black your light-candles a love call out
They will emerge at night at break of black
Your light a drug to men on beauty’s track
Your beauty draws men from the shadow’s cold
To flames of light your face his love blindfold
At night all men become a love chancer
Your beauty may grow a love lie cancer
You must look through the fake to see the lie,
else love will hide in black and cold and die
In love the truth is hard to find and keep
The day brings light to mind and love from deep
In truth his eyes the key to love, just look!
In there his love the truth, an open book
Dear Judy:
As I scrolled anxiously through my inbox, flipping through needless letters, hoping for an answer,
I suddenly realized that out of all the emails Ms. Blume receives, I was taking an awful heck of a chancer.
And soon enough, there at the top of the pile, there it was: An email from Judy Blume.
My face lit up like a match to a lighter, and I beamed a great big smile, shining brighter than the fullest of the "blooming" full moons.
Full of inspiration for my being a compassionate writer, and much knowledge gifted from her to me for my being able to succeed,
The brilliant Ms. Judy Blume had surely given me all the information I would need.
And soon enough, before the blink of an eyeball, here I am now, signing autographs, and at last, giving all the advice I can possibly afford to give in this competitive literary market, to younger students than me, I am now using the quote that Judy Blume secretly told me:
Read, read, read and write, write, write.
And now, from the dear Judy Blume, to me, I wish you all a good night.
(Something Seemingly Insignificant and Unexpected Changed My Life – Poetry Contest) 8/24/16
The medic said lie on the couch
She swabbed my cervix , I said OUCH
It's checking for cancer
So I can’t be a chancer
For cervical smears I can vouch
I lay there with my legs akimbo
Butt naked I feel like a bimbo
My hubby needn’t fear
It’s just a routine smear
Not nookie with Peter or Jimbo
I think its's a total outrage
Girls are denied smears due to age
If detected early
It could have saved Shirley
And youngsters like Amber and Paige
In England cervical smears are offered to women aged 25 to 64. Personally, I think the age should be reduced as women in their early 20's have died as they have been deemed too young for a cervical smear screening. Whilst the test is uncomfortable it only takes a few minutes to be done and it could save young lives
* Third stanza added 01/15/22 -The names Shirley fitted the rhyme scheme and I've read about Paige Hart who was diagnosed with cancer aged 24. I've been made aware of Amber's Law and fully support the change of age to 18.
https://amberslaw.org/about-us/
https://www.thesun.co.uk/fabulous/9952172/woman-cervical-cancer-25-smear-test
01/14/22
Oh I love to dance but,? ?I am no great dancer
And,? ?i love romance but,? ?I'm not a take a chancer.
Give me a steady beat and,? ?I'll still hit the floor,
?'?cause I'm the only one I ever boogie for
But romance is dance designed exclusively for two?'
Skittish at the risks involved?; ?its a step I no longer do.
Now,? ?I have been a lover and a fighter but,? ?it's been
many long years gone since I engaged in a fight
And loving I do only from a distance but,? ?I have
always been a poet,? ?so most of all,? ?I sit and write.
Form:
Hep me, as ama dope
Heal me, as ama infirm
Free me, as ama shackled
See me, as ama mirra
Clothe me, as ama barenekkid
Galvanize me, as ama stubborn lak ‘crete
Betroth me, as ama sangle and goatish
Subjugate me, as ama crossgrain fool
Rebirth me, as ama gassy cawpse
Retool me, as ama ‘nachronism
Reassess me, as ama second-chancer
Retype me, as ama ruff copy
Stigmatize me, as ama beyond reproach
Rekindle me, as ama waifish speerit
Redirect me, as ama arra awry
Redevelop me, as ama shutterclick naaghtmare
Hunker me down, as ama foxhole ‘bloon