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The Kyrii Explorer
Where ice-blue mountains rise to meet
The snow-filled, pristine skies,
A figure treads with sturdy feet
And sees with keen bright eyes.
A frosted visor guards his brow
From vicious, chilly blasts,
And in his hand he grips a bough
That through the journeys lasts.
He takes with him a simple guide,
A compass, round and clear;
He walks in boots of well-worn hide,
And furs complete his gear.
Attired thus, he charts his way
Through Neopia, far and free,
And greets each newly risen day
With bold audacity.
As long as cities come and go,
He journeys ever on...
He has a thirst to see, to know,
To chase each radiant dawn.
The rains may fall, the years may pass,
But nothing dulls his will;
His life flows on like light through glass,
Ablaze and never still.
Beyond each valley, cliff and shore,
He knows there will be more.
Can I See Your True Colours?
As the autumn wind blows,
The air turns light and crisp.
A chill is felt in early day,
By night fall snowy wisps.
Blossoming flowers wilt,
While grass fades away.
Yet only fall can bring
Colours that trees portray.
Fiery red and orange burst,
Through timid shades of green.
Yellow shines among branches,
Radiating with saffron sheen.
Entering hallowed woods,
A massive gale rages by,
Awakening slumbering tree,
Groggy eyes, heavy sigh.
Suddenly struck by curiosity,
Wondering one question true.
Does the Brain Tree's colour change,
In fall and spring anew?
Always orange it appears,
Pulsating with Neopian facts,
Throbbing brain atop branches,
Actual leaves it does lack.
When snow melts away,
While frigid winds subside,
Will your real colours emerge,
Or within orange do they confide?
The Cloud Gnorbu
Silver clouds and lofty form
Embrace the endless skies
And so enthralled by wind alight,
The Gnorbu swiftly flies.
His mane as full as drifting clouds,
A coat as soft as silk,
Eyes that gleam like stars so bright,
Fur as white as milk.
Gazing down on woods and sea
With form so straight and tall.
He sees all dwelling down below
And thus, he guards it all.
As free as wind across the plains,
Flying lightly without wings,
Gliding past the moor and hills,
The Gnorbu softly sings.
The Ghost Lupe
A darkened cloud is setting down:
A ghostly Lupe has come to town!
The misty fog around him swirls,
The fog of icy glowing pearl.
A mournful howl; the spectre sways.
The bravest tremble at his gaze.
What could this wretched Lupe have done
To leave him to this fate, alone?
A tale of sorrow, love, revenge.
A tale which now will have no end.
The bravest knight, his precious lady.
The facts about his past are shady.
A knight has travelled from afar,
Aboard a little wooden shard!
And in the distance -- look and see,
A ship that abandoned survivors with glee.
Alas! Beloved, his precious one
Is taken away. Vanished! Gone!
The Island natives have their way,
But the valiant Lupe says they must pay.
His valiant efforts, all in vain,
Remain a legend all the same.
By wary of the vengeful ghost
That roams the Island's forbidding coast.
The sun is shining: the spirit is gone,
and here my sorrowful tale is done.
Do not think this is not true!
Tomorrow he may be after you.
Battling the Garoo Elite Junior Squadron
Trepidation clutched my soul,
It caused my knees to shake.
Anticipation wrung my nerves,
And let my courage quake.
A battle loomed ahead of me,
To conquer Sloth's dark plan.
I had to halt his vicious plot,
Provided that I can.
What vicious foe would I soon face?
I hardly dared to think.
Would Sloth himself step up to war?
The thought made my nerves shrink.
Within the Battledome's own realm
I stood, my sword in hand.
Prepared to save Neopia,
Prepared to make my stand!
They entered then, my 'worthy' foe,
I couldn't help but grin.
They were no warrior elite,
I felt quite smug within.
The junior squadron of Garoo,
Whom I would face that night.
Three novices who snarled at me,
With swords we charged to fight.
Total Poetry Pages : 1865
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