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BRUCE DAY SPECIAL
The very first time Boochi hit
My poor old Faerie pet.
I bought a brush and did repaint,
I did not get upset.
The second time that Boochi hit,
My dear Maraquan Draik.
I'd had enough, this move meant war,
Was more than I could take!
I sought the little Bruce for weeks,
Then one day did we meet.
Boochi faced me, smirk on beak,
Upon deserted street.
"You've cost me millions!" did I cry,
"You're driving me insane!"
He held up tiny flippers then,
"Please wait! I can explain!"
I raised an eyebrow, settled back,
To hear small Boochi speak.
"I didn't mean to make you mad!"
Came words from tiny beak.
"I merely wanted several friends,
It's boring all alone!"
His sob story went on and on,
For hours did he drone.
I listened, didn't interrupt,
Until he was all done.
"There are solutions, Boochi dear,
I've got the perfect one!
You need to know pets your own age!"
Then slowly, didn't rush.
I reached into my pocket quick,
And grabbed a blue paint brush!
Sitting Bruce Gnome
Fragrant breezes whispering,
As gentle willows sway.
Flowers of the warmest tints,
All lined in neat array.
Sandy path so subtly winds,
No tool sits without use.
Near the droplets cascading,
Lies little gnome, a Bruce.
Garden gnome waves eager fin,
O'er a clump of reeds.
Perched upon a mushroom high,
On Bruce's head is bright red hat,
Matched with pointed shoes.
Fluffy beard so loosely falls,
Magnificent white hue.
Stationary in the wind,
Bruce gnome does stand guard.
Field of green grass is its world,
Up to the gateway barred.
Welcoming all visitors,
Who stumble 'pon its home.
Cheerful, smiling, unchanging,
Amidst the garden loam.
Watching is the small Bruce gnome,
As guests come and depart.
Silently observing all,
No knowledge it imparts.
Step carefully, dear gardener,
As you trim and plow.
Lest you knock o'er little gnome...
It wouldn't like that now!
For the Bruce
high on Terror
Mountain, an ice
rink lies: the Rink
Runner rink, the
of those of the Bruce kind;
water chilled to ice-stillness,
and pressed to ice-smoothness
by the winter wind's glacial blast.
There the bashful Bruce can fly; no
longer dumpy, squat and awkward
with too-small wings and graceless
feet: on that surface of dewed ice
as changeful as the sky it reflects,
he can raise his small wings high
and skim lightly, and skim gladly,
over the frozen expanse, lost in
a happiness serene, while
whirling all around him,
the snow-capped mountains
mingle with the white skies.
A Brucicle for Every Day
A Chocolate Brucicle for Monday's sake,
To keep me from sleeping once I awake.
It's classic, it's tasty, and VERY cold,
But still, that great flavour never gets old.
A Flatfruit Brucicle on Tuesday morn
To keep my tongue happy and far from forlorn.
It's juicy, it's tangy, and it's full of juice
Cleverly shaped like a small, frozen Bruce.
A Blurf one for Wednesday isn't far from reach,
A frozen delight that tastes just like a peach.
But unlike the fruit, it's not covered in fuzz,
So a Blurf Brucicle is now quite the buzz.
For Thursday, a Lime Brucicle is my delight,
To keep my face puckered all into the night.
It's sour, it's shocking, and it's very nice,
That sweet little Brucicle made out of ice.
Ah, Friday! Rejoice with one made of Raspberry,
For those who can't consume milk, it isn't dairy.
Although it IS raspberry, it's strangely blue,
But if I enjoy it, I'm sure you will too.
Now, for Saturday and Sunday it all turns a blur,
I have no favorite flavour, not one I'd prefer.
Maybe that's because I just can't recall...
Oh, wait! I remember! Hehe, I eat them all!
Dear Weltrude, known as Mother Bruce,
Rescues Petpets on the loose,
From Puppyblews to Quadrapus
Weltrude's mission is their welfare.
Within the Petpet Protection League,
Her spirit is known to not fatigue.
She followed a plot's deep intrigue
And never did she despair.
Enlisting brave assistants,
They spread out across the distance,
And with tireless persistence,
Each puzzle was unlocked.
And so Oukins, Dryms, and Dipnis,
Hifflos, Kassegats, and Pinixys,
Rescued from situations risky
To the Petpet Park were brought.
Under Weltrude's watchful eye,
Grateful Petpets now reside.
And Mother Bruce takes such pride
In their progress.
So daily visit Weltrude
Who, to show her lasting gratitude,
Will encourage you to grab some loot
From her colourful toy chest!
Total Poetry Pages : 1867
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