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OGRIN DAY SPECIAL
An Ogrin and the Island Breeze
Tropic heat and rhythmic sway,
So sweltering, the sunlit day.
The Ogrin herd shall soon prepare
A festival in open air.
Perfume does each bloom contain,
So laced within each Ogrin mane.
Most fragrant flowers from each stem,
Each one a brilliant, coloured gem.
Ferns are chosen, woven tight.
The emerald tones alive and bright.
Each Ogrin chooses matching pair,
Anklet set, a must to wear!
The dancing will go on all night,
Until the dusk brings colours bright.
A festival of Ogrin-kind.
A place to eat, relax, unwind.
The featured piece, a tribal dance,
In widest circle, all shall prance.
Hooves are lifted high, aloft.
Then brought down to the sand, so soft.
They move in sacred, tribal way,
To tropic beat they slowly sway.
The Ogrins toned with Island brush,
Amongst the palms, so green and lush.
They celebrate the Island land,
With festival on golden sand.
The rhythm comes from endless seas,
The Ogrins dance within the breeze.
An Ogrin's Thoughts
An Ogrin sits quietly in the snow,
His mane-like hair flowing behind him,
The deep brown a contrast
Against the stark white ground.
As one ages there are things to contemplate
And contemplate he does,
His paws rubbing against his temples,
His eyes surveying the scene before him.
"Neopia is beautiful," he whispers quietly
and immediately knows it's true.
For no matter what is uncertain
He can trust in the good surrounding him.
So he smiles a joyful smile,
His teeth reflecting the sun.
His cheeks glow slightly pink
As he tosses his head back and laughs.
"It's time for a celebration," he thinks.
"Not just of today, the day of Ogrin creation,
But of every day past and every day to come,
Where we can laugh, cry, and feel the snow".
Orie Dinelle -- Ogrin Goalkeeper
Orie Dinelle, known as Brightvale's best,
Has guarded their goal through many a test.
Not quite the sweet yellow Ogrin she looks,
She knows, or she wrote, every trick in the book.
She stops every ball, reacts almost too quickly,
Laughs at rumours that her gloves are sticky.
So what if she can seem to get in the way?
As Orie will tell you, that's just how you play.
So she kicks up dirt and the line gets obscured,
Ask the referee, and maybe he'll have a word.
But Orie Dinelle's never really to blame.
She's just an expert at this Yooyuball game.
Appearances can deceive, she looks unimposing,
But get in the way and it's you she's bulldozing.
She's swift and she's strong, a number one player,
And despite all the talk, her game's always fair.
When crafting a team to triumph over them all,
There's only one Ogrin who always gets the call.
A surefire, quick-footed guarantee to do well,
When you look to the goal and see Orie Dinelle.
ship is the
fine SS Primella,
his name is Rourke
(that's Captain Rourke to
you), his eyes are yellow, his
fur is green, and his language is,
for the most part, completely obscene.
He likes his grog and he likes his brawls,
he hates Petpetpets after a certain adventure
that you may -- or may not -- recall. (It involved
an overconfident Lutari, a Xweetok lass who liked
plants, and an absent-minded Tonu professor prone
to esoteric rants). All of this aside, the ocean is
real passion -- the waves sing his name, the sea-
surge calls him to join its breathing, living waves,
and so on the stillest nights, alone on deck at
the midnight hour, he listens to the winds,
entranced by the music, by the magic
of the currents' wild power.
An Ogrin Day Surprise
The baby Ogrin stared at the dazzling tree,
The bulbs sparkling with luminous sights,
Yet he couldn't help but release a small sigh,
As his family began to take down the lights.
For you see, this year had been far from usual,
The pleasantries and joy had all been missed,
As the legendary and most marvellous Santa Kau
Had not given him a single item on his list.
Maybe he had been the last on his mind,
As he had many other pets to see and deliver,
Yet the baby Ogrin knew he had been forgotten,
And the thought made him completely shiver.
What had he done to deserve such treatment?
He had been as good as he could possibly be,
But after the Day of Giving and on Ogrin Day,
There was still not a present under the tree.
So the baby Ogrin held back the cold tears
And watched his parents put away the tree,
Yet just as they lifted it up from the ground,
Their faces erupted with pure glee.
Both of his parents exclaimed to their boy,
"Oh, look here! This is so pleasant!"
As the baby Ogrin stared up, he matched their joy,
For at the back, behind the tree, was his present!
Abandoned pool in darkened glade,
Water glimmers like a silver blade;
Light strikes edge and sparkles shine,
Erupt like a spurt in a diamond mine.
Ghostly shadow opens glowing eyes,
And out of glade comes mournful cries;
A slender shape, dancing forth,
Hooves striking in parody of mirth.
Regal head held high, but puff of smoke,
Flick'ring shadows make misty cloak.
In silence held, and silence bound,
Mute bells toll in mourning sound.
Spirit guardian prances 'bout,
Watcher over a mystic route.
Stories wither like shrivelled leaves,
Ashes to ashes, scattered sheaves.
Untold tale, unspoken word,
Like the famed Skardsen's sword.
Ghostly Ogrin blinks misty eyes,
Tosses her mane, hones her lies.
In ancient forest she remains hidden,
A spirit once entered, unbidden.
Ogrin once was, now but spectre;
How the shadows did wreck her.
Stay, stay, unto thee, eternal keeper,
And of the souls, become the reaper.
Starry Ogrin Smile
Terror Mountain's chilling call,
Howling wind and white snowfall,
Greets the frosty day a-dawning,
As palest sunlight makes it morning.
Not a star left in the sky --
Yet what is this, hurrying by?
Flashes of starshine blur and glow,
Dashing up the mound of snow.
Through the fog and blizzard haze,
We track this blue and yellow blaze,
Up and up the mountain slope,
As it glides with carefree lope.
Its clopping hooves,
Quirky, yet plain,
Eyes alight --
Wide and sincere --
Pelt of bright night
And wonky ear.
The sky brightens, and now all can see
That this creature of innocent glee,
Who can trek up the mountain with effortless ease
With twiggy legs and knobbly knees
A starry Ogrin, obviously!
For who else could manage to be
So light and nimble on its hooves,
So joyous and cheery as it moves?
Who else could shine all day,
And glow in the night,
And always smile
A smile so bright?
Starry Ogrin on mountain's peak
Facing the bitter winds so bleak,
Bless this harsh land just for a while
With your quirky starry Ogrin smile.
An Ogrin Cook
Tiny kitchen, shuffling steps,
Preparing mixtures sweet.
Day of Ogrins, here at last,
Calls for a special treat.
What to cook, though, for this day?
I flip through pages white.
Cookbook of a chocolate Ogrin,
Bound in orange light.
"Here's something," I say out loud,
Recipe short and quick.
Biscuits using Ogrin's shape,
Strawberry layers thick.
I start by rolling sugary dough,
And shaping Ogrin forms.
Fillings of delightful pink,
Strawberries sweet and warm.
Dozen biscuits soon are placed,
On papery cookie sheet.
I stand by heating oven's door,
Awaiting my new treat.
As the timer ticks along,
I glance at orange book.
Image round on cover plain:
Chocolate Ogrin cook.
Ogrin made of dark brown goo,
Whip-cream mane does flow.
This great chef is skilled indeed,
But wait a second, though.
Standing by a blazing stove
Melts chocolate to a drink.
Ogrin cook who can't stand heat...
A little odd, now, don't you think?
The Plight of Pink Ogrin Slippers
Soft, fuzzy, and very cosy,
Enticing to those just passing by.
While winter freezes all white 'n' snowy,
Their warm look just begging you to try.
Just sneak them to the fireside
(While your Ogrin isn't lookin').
It shouldn't hurt to give them a ride
Before she realises they've been tooken.
Slip them on your feet so icy,
Thawing out your frozen toes.
Ah, well... they don't fit quite nicely
But doesn't what comes surely go?
Alas, it seems to be unfortunately true,
But it's what the slippers' creators devised...
Pink Ogrin Slippers seem to fit rather few
Because they only come Ogrin-sized!
The Starry Ogrin
Each shop along the way
puts its period to end the day.
While walking is a starry little fellow,
with stars that only mellow.
A phenomenon crosses the sky!
Too fast to begin seeing with the naked eye.
Finally it settles, going slower and slower
and lower and lower.
I saw a star slide down the sky.
Blinding Mystery Island as it went by,
Too burning and too quick to hold,
Too lovely to be bought or sold,
Good only to make wishes on
And then forever to be gone.
My wish, for the sky and
the stars to have its play.
And to all have a bright Ogrin Day!
Total Poetry Pages : 2009
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