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The Grey Lament
Well once, I did step out
And gathered on Neopia's blacken'd plains.
I looked and spied and duly found
The source of all the rains.
The cause of all hardship,
The herald of all tears,
The master of the misery drip,
A star of all your fears.
'Twas sparkling grey with parts of blue,
Grief upon a mystic face,
And phantom veil of darkness true
Struck upon that curs'd place.
I imagine it was something once,
Crippled leaves on choking tree,
Lost unbound in lonely months,
A ship across the ashen sea.
But what was once is now no more,
And despair comes all around.
The deep eyes of that crushing core,
Consuming all they found.
And it burns not like the other stars,
All broken, hung and draped,
Just a dream, a dream too far
Of long forgotten grace.
Oh Grey Faerie, oh grey star,
...Too far away, far too far.
The Elusive Avatar
The search continues and still no luck,
This thing has caused people to run amok.
Millions spent on various tests,
But we've yet to discover which is the best.
It's very elusive, this thing to find;
Does it require lateral thinking, the sharpest mind?
Stringing together the clues at hand
Has been no help in shifting our stand.
It hasn't been found for almost two years,
So perhaps there's truth in our worst fears?
Could it have never really been released,
And we've all been on a wild goose chase?
You'd become famous should you find it first,
Surely you'd tell the secret and quench our thirst...
We've searched high and low, near and far,
So where could it be, this Bonju avatar?
The Chomby Masquerade
A prehistoric day begins.
The sunrise fiery red.
Tyrannian homes all flood with light
But no soul is in bed.
The Giant Omelette sizzles.
The monotonous wheel just spins.
Within its lair, the beast awaits
But no one enters in.
The Jungle's been abandoned.
The Plateau dead as night.
Not hide, nor hair, nor whispering --
No Neopet in sight.
Cold and stark, the Arena stands
Filled with a mighty din.
A glorious spectacle unfolds
When you take a peek within.
Neopets from all around,
Of every type and shade,
Have come to see the grand event --
The Chomby Masquerade!
The Chombies dance with grace and ease.
You've never seen such hues!
A rainbow whirls around the floor --
Stars, polka dots, and blues.
Then night comes on, the music stops,
The last spectators leave.
All that is left, strewn around,
Are Chombies fast asleep.
Eternal struggle, Tug-o-war,
A battle fought on river's shore.
Brute strength is the crucial key,
And none as sturdy stand.
The Elephante they call Khadir,
His feet firm in the sand.
The humid glaze of golden heat
Upon the desert gleams.
The sands reflect the sunlit glare,
It's warmer than it seems.
Beneath the curve of swaying trunk,
So lingers faintest smirk.
To take the slack from slipping rope,
A duty he can't shirk.
Those who meet the challenge cast,
Into the water drop.
The Elephante few dare to match,
And none come out on top.
Within those clumsy, massive paws,
He holds the slippery rope.
Heavy feet are set so firm,
Upon the steep bank slope.
As the match heats up quite fast,
(Just like the desert sun!)
Khadir gives the rope a heave,
And wins games one by one!
Not once does headdress slip from crown,
The trunk, aloft and high.
The Elephante gives hefty cheer,
With each foe's splash and cry.
The thundering of each firm step,
As backward, he doth tread.
Has given those who play his game,
That sinking sense of dread.
When day is over, off he heads,
Into the setting sun.
Lumbering across the sand,
For now, the war is done.
Eternal struggle, Tug-o-war,
A battle fought on river's shore.
That Freaky Factory!
Ooch, he shudders as the blob falls,
He leans over the edge to see it splat.
Smack on the head of another Grundo,
Oops, it landed right on his hat!
The Foreman hurries back to his post,
To check on the progress of the new toys.
Purples and pinks, orange and blue,
He strains his ears over the factory noise.
But not before an image appeared
Over on the big communication screen.
The Foreman shivers as he sees,
The gross image of Sloth, his vile green.
"Uh, sir! You caught us by surprise.
We aren't ready to ship them just yet.
Give us another day and we might be done,
We can work over time even, if you let."
"Just get them done, the Defenders are close!
Soon they will find our factory plant.
Then it's all over, no more toys,
I know you won't want to be around after that."
"Of course, sir, I understand.
Done by tomorrow, shipped out tonight.
This time there will be no delays,
They will hit the shops before the first light."
Sloth's image fuzzes out, at last he is gone.
But the Foreman's attention is drawn over the plant,
As he watches in silent horror,
As the toys terrorise the factory in a giant rant.
The workers scream and scramble in a mess,
As the Kreludite-made toys attack with glee,
Stumbling and hurrying to the door,
The Foreman struggles to find the key.
Calling to his fellow crew to flee from the plant,
The Foreman at last manages to open the door.
But too late it seems, the toys are already near,
They passed him, counting down; 6, 5, 4,
Then they reached one and were free into Neopia,
Past the plant and over the shiny metal fence,
They marched until they reached their destiny --
The Toy Shop, the keeper unaware of their presence.
And so it seems, Sloth has won,
But we know, that the battle,
Has only just begun...
Total Poetry Pages : 1867
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