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The Yurble Raider Rides
Come, Neopians, heed what I say --
For it is almost the end of the day.
Lock your doors and close your blinds,
For tonight the Yurble Raider rides.
No one knows from whence he came,
Or where he goes from here,
But as long as the Raider remains,
Hearts shall be filled with fear.
Hark! For dusk has fallen,
And the Raider now arrives.
See him now, lit up by the flames,
Bright against dark skies.
See him there -- his power, his might,
His mount, his sword, his eyes.
Will no one come to save us now?
Can no one hear our cries?
Then lo! Behold, atop the hill
The Foreman has appeared.
Can't you see his bright orange fur,
His rough and scraggly beard?
He launches at the Raider,
Lets out his battle cry
Orange and red now battling
Like flames against the sky.
When the battle ends we know
That only one will stand.
Now wait with bated breath to see --
It is our own Foreman!
The night is saved, go quickly now
Back into your homes.
Although the Raider now is gone,
Others still may roam.
The Foreman stands in vigil,
Bathed in pure moonlight.
He will guard the village now,
We can sleep tonight.
Come One, Come All,
to the Fabulous Lost Desert!
Above us lies a fiery orb,
In a cradle of piercing blue.
Honey sands burn below,
A perfect ocean of gold.
Our royal heads are heavy
With the weight of priceless finery,
Our arms are loaded with secret treasure
And exotic Petpets of old.
We are the Lost Desert.
Greatest pets of the age!
Wisdom was granted us,
So listen well, child,
And explore our mighty desert!
Survive the sweaty, sultry days
And learn a thing or two.
Visit us, o Neopet,
And stay a week or two.
Ode to Resignation
King Skarl, true lord and king of Meridell,
List while to you my last poem I tell.
For many years I've been your loyal bard,
I stuck with you in wars, when times were hard.
When times were good, you listened as I sang
And played my harp, with a lamenting twang.
And yet, from you, I never got a smile,
The compliment that makes the job worthwhile.
For years, you've ruled the land in misery,
Whilst I've made do with a poor salary.
The job is very dull, the hours are long.
I sit, strumming song after blasted song;
I list of 'woodlands green' and 'forests thick'
And heroes (or a thug wielding a stick).
I now find 'rolling fields' extremely dull;
I'm bored of 'azure' skies and lakes as well.
So this is my swansong, my final letter,
I'm leaving for Brightvale -- they pay much better!
It's with regret I bid my fond farewell
To the rolling fields that make up Meridell,
But I leave your halls, my king, with joy
As finally, I escape your employ.
Meridell -- land that is warm and sunny,
Goodbye -- I'm leaving now, to earn more money.
Legend of the Ghost Lupe
Warning dire, heed my call,
Beware the Ghost Lupe, one and all.
On silent eve he wanders here,
Instilling dread, provoking fear.
None know why spirit lingers on,
What things that Lupe might dwell upon.
Wisp and tendril, eerie twist,
A phantom forms from pallid mist.
Translucent, floating like a threat,
A vision most would not forget.
A flash of crimson in his gaze,
So haunting through the evening haze.
"Beware!" The bellow doth emit,
In horrid voice his words transmit.
"When moon shall fall, keep close your pet!"
I beg you, heed his vicious threat.
Transparent tail, eerie eyes,
A ghostly form doth hypnotise.
To his history thoughts are cast,
What dreadful thing lurks in his past.
What image haunts his mind the most,
To leave him here, a Lupe, a ghost.
With one last howl, one lone "Beware!"
He'll vanish, melt into thin air.
A Weewoo sits on highest branch
Of tall and gently swaying tree.
An empty nest beneath her feet,
She sings a mournful melody.
There once were eggs of dappled white,
But into chicks they swiftly grew.
And now, upon this summer's night
Away from nest they leapt and flew.
Their Petpet mother watched them go,
Her offspring whom she loved so dear.
This Weewoo of the purest white
Saw each one fade and disappear.
The sound of youthful, flapping wings
Has long since faded in the eve.
She knows that she has done what's best;
They have grown up, and now must leave.
So Weewoo mother sits alone
On tall and gently swaying tree.
The empty nest beneath her feet
Now holds naught but a memory.
Total Poetry Pages : 1891
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