Best Dicey Poems
It took just a moment
A single concentration lapse
And down the drain,Bayern's effort went
Whilst Messi enjoyed the claps
Life is like a football game
As dicey as a game of chess
A step can earn you fame
Another can end you up in a mess
A poor tackle can earn you a red
A miscued shot can end in your net
Life is not a flower bed
Off the post,your strikes can ricochet
Goal tallies are all that are countable
Your loving fans can always turn their backs
Your strength is only a vegetable
So while you still can,stack up your medal rack
The base word “dally,” from old French used to mean to chat idly.
dilly-dally of dandelions - seeds on fire, blown
downward. inspire
molten icing— erupting,
disrupting the perfect garden of peace.
dilly-dally, those tongues wagging like puppy tails.
such excitement, seems friendly, enticing—
it’s dicey; the splintering
of rivulets, they run
dripping from waterfall lips, diving off the precarious cliff -
trampolines everywhere, but they’re missed. the kiss
of candy-sweet news, the licorice-twist…
she can’t place a hand over her own gaping hole.
the dog bites the hand that tries to scold.
the slap-happy hoarding of gossip - the girl
can’t get enough. when it’s not on the wire,
she turns to the swoon of reality t.v.
salivating, with ears like a drainage ditch,
or a sinkhole, a muddy swamp. she loves
it.
they
don’t.
run.
she’s
trouble.
11/19/2022
Two Silly Seals Limeridk
8/26/2023
Two silly seals were whooping it up.
Scarfing down,booze,cold ales and stuff.
Things got so dicey,
She,in the sea, icey.
His tears fall for her on moonlit nights.
He wants her back,to make things so right!
Written: November 10, 2023, For Edward Ibeh Contest
__________________________________________
As if to atone, I gaze into the obscurity of my soul.
When I glance back, I feel vulnerable, as in a hole.
A thrilling and ticklish time tumble in the future.
Whilst sorrow stitches, a suspect sears sans suture.
I still wear knit garments, worn with time and care.
The fights I've fought are icons of moxie and dare.
With the things I've done and how stout I've come,
A potent sight of mettle is where I'm coming from.
Whilst a place where shadows gleefully dance.
Where deception is woven in tandem, a prance
Fabrics of lies, woven from threads of deceit.
Embroidered by the demon aiming to cheat
Evil One, with his dirty lies and cruel smirk.
The worst delusion arises slyly from lurk.
A Janus-faced one stays hidden in the shadows.
Mere ambition to deceive and instill harrows
Janus-faced, dicey, dodgy, deduce the scene.
Ambidextrous by a sly smile, sharp gaze, unclean.
A cynical wolf in sheep clothes tricks sans shame.
Their fraud, plotting, and spite reveal obvious tame.
We can't hide the quilt of deceit, an art of smears.
Web grows with each knot, tying souls and ears.
A key prevaricator took delight in havoc, ruin left.
Only heartbreak remains in his wake, and bereft.
With an iron tongue, they lie naively and conceal.
Their faith is brief; it is phony, as they lack ideals.
In the gloom, they thrive with guile and strive.
Twisting and scheming with no regret or drive
But worry not, for honesty will always prevail.
Deception's weave will crumble into a false quail.
Pits of deceit shall cease, and lies will never last.
Truth will heal souls, as lying is torn with a blast.
A grim warning of vile traits shows guile.
Their souls are dark, and they generate wile.
Their authentic hues and pain will never heal.
Stay true and fight deceit with candor and zeal.
It’s true! I heard it myself!
No academic learning tomorrow!
The roads are too icy,
and travel is dicey
try to contain all your sorrow.
It was later I knew that perception was just the opening key
Age unveiled to me the need to advance my thinking
I sought to know more about me
There came a school of thought
that face-lifted my thinking
It said:
‘You’re a spirit: you have a soul and live in a body’
This advanced thought made me a changed person
I thought I knew myself best
but had no idea this was just a test.
(iii)
I worked through the rigor of self-discovery
It was then I knew I needed an actual recovery
I searched inwards to know who I really was
It was then I recognize I’d been playing the Dicey Knowledge Toss
I got a welling up from the inside who I am
It echoed:
‘You are a transcendent entity-- stretching beyond the bounds of gender polarity---yet, exhibiting the energies of masculinity and feminine characteristics in situations of interest to bring about harmony with the natural forces---wind, earth, water and fire and with self.’
I was changed ever since.
Who is this me has become the new me ever since
My quest to know more of me had been tense
I can now confidently boast about my knew knowledge defense
I am getting to know more of me, though
I can boldly say: ‘I can move my personal toe’
My getting to know myself is clearer
It is all about moving myself better
Explorin' the branches of the family tree can be rather dicey.
Some ancestors could be famous, humdrum er downright spicy!
With bated breath I decided to take the risk and check around.
I wasn't all that enthralled about some of the dudes that I found!
Seems that in the distant past a member of my family strain,
Was a notorious pirate maraudin' the boundless Spanish Main!
Another was a nefarious cattle rustler ever on the vamoose,
'Til a posse tracked him down and left him danglin' from a noose!
One forebear, a scoundrel who specialized in robbin' trains,
Was ensconced fer life in a cozy cell, detained in clankin' chains!
A rowdy ancestor caused a ruckus in a Cripple Creek saloon;
The high sheriff done him in one fateful August afternoon!
My lineage included a business lady of whom I proudly spoke,
'Til it was revealed she was a soiled dove, dismayin' this poor bloke!
My great-grandpa was caught dispensin' jugs of potent 'shine!
Revenooers busted him resultin' in a term in jail and a hefty fine!
A distant uncle was a goon in a notorious gangster mob.
He met his Maker heistin' a bank they were tryin' to rob!
I proffered a prayer as I examined my tragic family tree:
"Lord, may a sturdy twig adorn this tree and let it begin with me!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Judy Konos' "Relatives" Contest
My friends say this magnificent rose
Gives off the most wonderful aroma of spring
I am catching a scent somewhat obscure
As yet no recognizable thing
For I'm losing the sense
Of smell in my nose
Perhaps what I'm smelling
Though peculiar and unselling
Is this lovely flower
This most fragrant rose
Most likely it's the pasture
Expelling natural gas
Which is nostalgic and familiar
With its hint of ammonia and pungent aroma
But, I fear, even this shall pass
There's the most angelic sound in the meadow nearby
That is what my lovely neighbor conveys
She jots down the melody with each bar and clef
For I cannot hear it
I am practically deaf
But I do hear the shrill voice
Of my neighbor's young lass
Which is nostalgic and familiar
Though disconcerting and frightful
And never delightful
I fear, even this shall pass
The most beautiful creature stops at my house
It arrives every day to feed
This is just what I've heard
To me it's all blurred
For a new pair of glasses I need
But I do see the glare
From a bonfire of grass
Which is nostalgic and familiar
Though odious and weedy
And noxiously seedy
I fear, even this shall pass
My neighbor is bringing a dinner she will baste
Which others around highly praise
The sensation for me is hardly a meal
I have lost the better part of my taste
But I savor the peppers
She always brings me in mass
Which are nostalgic and familiar
Though indigestible and spicy
And especially dicey
I fear, even this shall pass
I fondly remember my wife's gentle touch
But this sense too I now lack
If it weren't for the fall
I'd have no sensation at all
But, for these sharp piercing pains
Down my back - Alas! Alas!
While nostalgic and familiar
And though crippling and painful
It is nothing disdainful
And I fear, even this shall pass
Now when I'm gone all will be quite sublime
I will have transcended to the sixth sense
I will be free as a bird
Free from the limits of time
Reunited with the Lord of Providence
I Hear Your Crisis
Scream if you have to.
Scream out your guts if it’ll make you feel better.
Scream out everything you have inside your spasming soul
And let your tongue be numb.
Scream out like a banshee
All your festering frustrations;
Frustrations of always losing and of desperately drowning,
Frustrations of accelerating powerlessness
And of deepening deprivation.
Life as we know it is getting dicey in the big city.
Dull-brained dopesters with tattoos
Of fading flowers and dangling dragons
Know the score.
They know of the hopelessness
They have tasted the vinegar of reckless abandon.
They have seen the downcast stares
Of ten thousand depressed days.
I hear your crisis.
I know your pain.
I understand your disease.
Look out this window here
And notice the old Victorian house across the street.
It’s a dead house now.
The flowers in the garden stand slumped over
And the front yard grass has faded,
Faded like the faith of a million Catholics.
The windows are creased and cracked,
Like the bulging buttocks of a dozen whiskey *****es.
And there are genuflecting ghosts
Of long-dead children in the closed-up chapel;
The cross of Christ is covered with burlap now.
I hear your crisis.
Scream loudly dead children of the night.
Scream out your guts.
Because I know your pain.
Exploring the branches of the family tree can be rather dicey.
Some ancestry could be famous, humdrum or downright spicy!
A feller I know decided to take the risk and check around.
I'm not so sure that he was all that pleased with what he found!
Seems that in the distant past a member of his family strain,
Was a notorious pirate marauding the bounding Spanish Main!
Another was a nefarious cattle rustler ever on the vamoose.
Til a posse tracked him down, and stretched his neck with a noose!
One forebear, a scoundrel who specialized in robbing trains,
Was ensconced for life in a cozy cell, detained in heavy chains!
A rowdy ancestor caused a ruckus in a Cripple Creek saloon.
The local sheriff done him in one fateful afternoon!
His lineage included a "business lady", of whom he proudly spoke.
Til I revealed what a "soiled dove" was, dismaying the poor bloke!
His great-grandpa was caught dispensing jugs of potent 'shine.
Revenooers busted him, resulting in jail and a hefty fine!
His uncle was a goon in a notorious Chicago gangster mob.
He met his Maker heisting a bank they were trying to rob!
He proffered a prayer as he examined that tragic family tree:
"Lord! May a sturdy twig adorn this tree and let it begin with me!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
she wrote using only her left
I learned to write using my right
the dark took her heart to the night
I lived in sun and bright of light
she would say yes to caviar
to me it just sounded bizarre
she ate things that were too spicy
to me it sounded too dicey
she loved taking to the blue sky
I hated going high and fly
I was always just her one friend
never a word about boyfriend
true love thwarts logic, so in life
in time, she became my dear wife
**** life
. bodies faking , minus hearts, forbidding ,
the drug-and- booze- induced-numbness killing
hot ****.
life sawing hapless life, insides-tearing ,
life sustaining, out of limelight, ’ tear’ing.
brute ****.
rank, dank, undigested ; the revulsion
exploding as vomit between sessions.
rot ****.
pain for the players of its gone-stale script
pleasure for the cameras , for hard-sell.
shot ****.
to relish it slyly; like a pervert
his neighbor’s son’s sudden insanity.
soft ****.
crossing the tipping points of life before
life began, stomp-stomping down dicey lanes.
quit ****.
Form: Dixdeux O ( 3 lines, Syllables: 10-10-2, L3 refrain), line 3 here is slightly modified refrain.
13 jun 13
For Deb's 'To be' contest.
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
Be careful of an icy snow squall
It’s icy when Jack Frost comes to call
If it’s freezing and icy
Icy paths can be dicey
When icy, just beware you don’t fall
Same Word Winter Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsor Charles Messina
1/5/19
Mona Lisa has worn that mystical smile on her mug for over 500 years!
Who is this mysterious lady who at us from The Louvre benignly peers?
She had to sit for over four years for the artist to capture that simple pose.
Who she is and what's behind that smile, only Leonardo DaVinci knows!
She ain't the most beautiful woman to come down the pike but what the heck.
Since her genesis in 1503 she wasn't treated all that well during her dicey trek!
She's been mutilated, stolen a time or two and graced Napoleon's sleeping place.
All the while she's borne it with grace with that inane smile upon her face!
Some have said that she's the widowed Duchess of Milan, Isabella of Aragon.
Others have sworn that she's Mona Lisa Gherardini and so it goes on and on!
Signore DaVinci left no specific clues as to the name of this mysterious dame!
Through the centuries men have scratched their skulls trying to seek her name!
Was that frozen smile upon her face to hide teeth that were crooked and stained?
Or was her pose such that her posterior and sacroiliac were slightly strained?
Perhaps her compressed smile implied to Leonardo, "Hurry up and git 'er done!
You're payin' minimum wage and fella, posin' fer posterity ain't all that fun!"
Now hung upon the wall of The Louvre she's worth millions and millions of bucks.
Not bad for an unknown woman from who knows where, but here's the crux:
That beatific smile upon the homely face of Mona Lisa that Leonardo created,
And what she's smiling for will always be debated and pondered unabated!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Tied for 3d Place in Carolyn Devonshire's "Unsolved Mysteries" Contest - Jul 2011