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The Poet's Lament
Silence shrouds, a velvet veil,
Sombre room bathed in sunset's light.
Weewoo feather quill is poised;
The poet, once more, prepares to write.
To begin, what's the subject; of what will she write?
In which direction shall imagination take flight?
Perhaps Weewoos, Chokatos, Draiks, or ghosts?
Underwater worlds beneath glittering coasts?
And then the format,
For if it is to convey,
A poem must have shape.
Something new? A haiku?
No, that will not do.
But if the tale is to rhyme, oh, alas!
Such a task being simple is very rare.
Perhaps her feeble skill could pass,
But it lacks much-vaunted eloquent flair.
While to write in rhyme, she so desires,
And escape entangling mental mire,
Such a poem could come out truly dire!
Ah, the restrictions, confinement to verse...
Instead of a blessing, now seems like a curse.
She stares at the wall,
Head a whirl of ideas,
But none catching on.
Her mind is spent, her hope is wan,
And so the poet trudges on.
To a Sponge Moehog
Yellow Moehog, all of sponge
Absorbed in your finesse!
All my cares do drain away
With sponge like you possess.
Contained within your sponginess
Delight; beauty and cheer,
And where you step the ground is left
Like glass so smooth and clear.
Your tusks are chunks of golden cheese,
And when you walk, you bounce
As light and pretty as a feather --
You barely weigh an ounce.
The fur upon your Moehog head
A most flamboyant hue,
Your peaceful eyes announce a mind
So honest, just and true.
When gazing at a Moehog does
Your heart not leap and spring?
In my belief the very sight;
Enough to make one sing!
Confessions of a Bottled Fire Faerie
It might just surprise you to learn
That life in here isn't so bad.
Though inside this jar I must burn,
I'm really not terribly sad.
When greedy old Balthazar came,
It's true that I wanted to flee.
But now my mind's in the right frame.
Inside is where I want to be.
Sometimes I am bought or I'm sold,
But no one has opened me yet.
Good thing; 'cause then I'd just be told
To beef up some weak Neopet.
The bottle I'm in is my home,
And Faerieland lies in my past.
I feel no desire to roam --
Outside is too scary and vast.
I've been here three years and a week,
And nothing to me is amiss.
I don't think my feeling's unique.
I bet there are others like this.
So next time you want to learn Heal,
Or Temporal Leak, or Tough Skin,
First ask how your faerie would feel,
And if she'd prefer to stay in.
A Flotsam, Forlorn
Glimpse of grey in ocean blue,
A dull patch in the light.
Something bleak doth break the glow,
Amidst a realm so bright.
Misery, to swim alone,
On ocean's breathless tide.
The crashing waves a metaphor,
For turmoil, deep inside.
Others break the glassy sheen,
With diving whilst at play.
The Flotsam hovers in the tide,
Her body toned in grey.
Not for she, the endless games,
But melancholy days.
Sorrow traps her floating form,
It's sadness in her gaze.
A sight more lovely, none shall see,
Than when the moon appears.
She gazes upward from the waves,
And smiles through her tears.
Those who speak of Flotsam folk
Do tell of creatures, free.
Jumping far above the waves,
Hearts light with fun and glee.
Not for she, the maiden grey,
Exception, we assume.
A tail flick, her mind in dreams,
Lost in her endless gloom.
For her the ocean's overcast,
It's tarnished, every day.
Opaque and weak the sunlight shines,
On Flotsam toned in grey.
Disco Koi Dance
A swirling flash of iridescence
Slipping under each cerulean tide
Tossing a flourish of cool water skyward,
A wild midmorning ride.
Clouds scurry from the sky,
Surrounds a sunlit view.
Frantic bubbles race to shore
As a playful figure breaks
From the cool depths of watery splendour,
Fins splayed as wading rakes.
Joyous song wafts through the waves,
Gurgling from the water,
The lone voice never falters.
Submerging beneath the glassy surface,
Its rainbow lustre quivers.
A delicate tail weaving illusions
Bending like winding rivers.
Bright eyes gleaming ignited with glee,
Escorted by a smile
Swimming all the while.
A splash shaking liquid land,
Rippling to water's brink.
The unbreaking twirl of
Fins and tail, blue and pink.
See the disco Koi's daily routine,
Watch him dance,
Enter a trance.
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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