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POOGLE DAY SPECIAL

A Poogle Apprentice
By Anjie

Burn and crackle, fire hot,
Bubble, gurgle, magic pot.
Enchanting fumes so softly rise,
Reflected in his awe-struck eyes.
A mere apprentice Poogle seems,
With wizard's fame within his dreams.
The gift of magic must be shown,
To hold a wand that is his own.

No ordinary Poogle, he,
But something special, all agree.
So gifted with the magic touch,
A mystic world at paw's own touch.
Not destined for the Poogle track,
To race against a frenzied pack.
Nor shall he face the lab some hate,
MSPP is not his fate.

He'll join the rank of the elite,
Neopia bowed at his feet.
Like Alstaf, Moogi, and the rest,
The Poogle legends, utter best.
He'll walk in fame's own guiding light,
If he can just get his spells right!
But why? The question you might ask,
Alas! Magic, a tricky task!

Even a Poogle smart as he
Must work to reach the top, you see.
The spark is there, for sure we know,
But he must make the magic grow.
Each night you'll find him, hat in place,
An intense look fixed on his face.
Repeating secret words out loud,
His gaze determined, noble, proud.

A mere apprentice at this stage,
Quite standard for one of his age!
The Poogle casts a simple spell,
But does it work? Results will tell!
He holds his wizard's hat up high,
And sparks rain down in vast supply!
He'll be a wizard, wise, sublime!
But Poogle magic just takes time.

The Poogles March Today
By _Razcalz_

Horns a-tooting, marching band,
Excitement in the air.
Poogle Day has come again,
We march with joyous flair.
Confetti thrown where'er we go,
Scattered far and high.
Parading Poogles 'cross the lands,
Joined with every passerby.

"It's Poogle Day, it's Poogle Day,
We're marchin' this an' that-a-way!"

Drumbeats follow every step,
Parading on four chubby paws.
Poogle Day, our special day,
We spread our glee to all.
Laughing loud and wagging tails,
We've never had such fun.
Baby Poogle trips o'er bouncing feet,
Careful now, dear little one!

"It's Poogle Day, it's Poogle Day,
We're marchin' this an' that-a-way!"

Marchin', marchin', with our friends,
Why, the MSPP's here.
Gone is evil from his eyes,
Reflecting joy sincere.
Lone grey Poogle marches too,
Fleeting smile upon her face.
Gloomy pasts are left behind
As paraders trot at pace.

"It's Poogle Day, it's Poogle Day,
We're marchin' this an' that-a-way!"

Sun is setting, twilight sky,
The march is drawing to an end.
I'll ne'er forget this year's parade,
As with all who did attend.
You won't see one as great as this...
Perhaps except our march next year!
This parade's by far the best,
Let's give it one last cheer!

"It's Poogle Day, it's Poogle Day,
We're marchin' this an' that-a-way!"

Three Cheers for Poogle Day
By Concertogreat_8

Three cheers for the Poogle king,
With his diamond ring
And his crown of beaten gold.

Three cheers for the Poogle knight,
With his unstoppable might
And his bravery.

Three cheers for the Poogle poet,
With his flowing word-set
And his staff of richest wood.

Three cheers for the Poogle race,
With the bets we make in case
And the track that stretches long.

Three cheers for the fallen ones,
Those forgotten Poogle sons
Lost to our memory.

Three cheers for the Poogle Day,
With the Poogle king and his diamond ring,
And the Poogle knight and his unstoppable might,
And the Poogle poet and his flowing word-set.

Three cheers for the Poogles
All over Neopia,
And the Poogles we celebrate today.

Racing with Poogles
By Silver_spiderlilies

In Faerieland, ethereal place,
Ivory Poogles stir for heady race
Where pastel track twirls 'mong pink clouds
And nearby shops sell perky Flouds.

A rapt-eyed creature plies bendy leg,
Which is dusted the hue of porcelain Negg,
And perks his ears, in vigilant stance
For the awaited fleet-footed dance.

The starting gun is fired, its bellow claps
And waltzing dust flies in baroque maps.
Sinewed limbs fly in fervent sweep,
Ardent flux in spirited leap.

And round the searing track they go,
Pinned lofty ears in sprightly tow.
They near the alabaster line
Each gaining on the faster's hind.

He bursts in flight, the rapt-eyed one!
And finishes the taxing run.
So Moogi again wins the race
In Faerieland, ethereal place

Alstaf Poogle's Thoughts
By Indulgences

Dashing through his manic mind
Are sundry thoughts and rhymes.
He's so engrossed in what he writes,
He keeps no track of time.

A writer of such great renown,
A poet of great taste,
The Poogle known as Alstaf P.
Writes sonnets in great haste.

His aspiration is to grasp
A feather pen in hand
And write with eloquence and pride.
His books are in demand!

The public clamours for his works.
The bookstore lines are long.
His patrons search for restocked shelves
And charge at them headlong.

But Alstaf does not write for crowds.
He writes for only him.
His heart is full of verse and song,
His patience rather slim.

You see, the Poogle writes with speed
Because he fears to lose
Those clever rhymes and metered lines
That make him so enthused.

So write with swiftness, Alstaf dear,
Your feather pen equipped!
For we would hate to lose your poems
Of glowing scholarship!



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