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The clockworks! They are on the way!
Type fast, for they explode.
Terrifying and agile;
Your end they do forebode.
They'll crack the glass
To claim your breath.
Type faster! Faster!
One is left.
The boss is unlike all the rest.
His exterior shines bright.
You must type faster than before.
You must put up a fight!
Tick tock, tick tock.
BING, BANG, BOOM!
The boss has fallen to the ground,
And fire fills the room!
You typed faster than ever before.
The boss has been defeated!
And not one clockwork Grundo remains.
They've exploded and retreated!
Six Blumaroos and an Ummagine
There was once a cook named Bonju,
Who was working on a new kind of stew.
Then Horace arrived on the scene,
Stealing Bonju's ummagine,
But all the chef did was scream, 'Curse you!'
Horace ran through the streets of Sakhmet,
Looking for a place to hide, I bet.
But in one alley so dim
A dark shadow towered over him,
And someone asked, 'Can you keep a secret?'
The Archmagus of Roo smiled but did nothing.
In a sinister voice, he added, 'I am plotting.
In order to complete my scheme,
I need your Ummagine,
So hand it over before it starts rotting!'
Poor Horace, he didn't know what to do.
He was scared, and he just wanted to eat too.
But before he could decide,
The Archmagus's eyes grew wide,
And he fell over, hit by a rogue Yooyu!
'I'm sorry, I really wasn't aiming for his head!'
Said Lilo Blumario, hoping Archmagus wasn't dead.
'Don't apologise, it wasn't rude,
In fact, it was actually good.
See, he wanted to take my ummagine, he said.'
Before they saying more about the precious gourd,
Someone leapt down, and they were floored.
Horace made no sound,
Blumario stood his ground,
As they watched the newcomer and his sword.
'Which one of you killed the Archmagus of Roo?'
Horace pointed at Blumario. 'It's him, it's true!'
'Actually, I owe him one,
For getting the job done.'
And Rohane bowed to the owner of the Yooyu.
'You see, I've been chasing the Archmagus.
I could never rest while he was loose.'
Blumario asked, 'So there's a reward?
For hitting that magus hard?'
Then, Rohane shoved aside the other Blumaroos!
Where they once were was a smoking crater,
Created by Commander Garoo's powerful laser.
'We're even,' said Blumario.
Rohane nodded. 'I know.'
But Horace whined, 'Can we talk about this later?'
'Give me the ummagine, or else you'll pay,
If you comply, I'll let you go on your way.'
Garoo pointed his ray-gun. 'Now surrender!'
Declared Rohane, 'Never!'
And Horace cried, 'This isn't my lucky day!
'What's going on in here? What's with all this noise?'
Shouted Bonju to the commander he employs.
'My ummagine!' Horace cried.
Garoo groaned. 'My laser's fried!'
And he turned away to mourn one of his toys.
'Actually, it doesn't really matter, you see,
The Fruit Machine was rather kind to me.
I spun it today
And won, hooray,
Another Ummagine!' Bonju smiled at the three.
The Wheel of Knowledge
Set the Wheel of Knowledge spinning,
There are wondrous prizes for the winning!
Fabled tomes of ancient lore
And motes with magic twinkling,
Or something that's found in no store:
Great wisdom from our grand king!
See the Wheel turn about,
You'll love what you receive, no doubt!
Blessings from a faerie kind,
A wonderfully powerful magic scroll,
Delicious fruit on which to dine,
And still much more -- give it a roll!
Give the Wheel a hearty spin
There's no telling what you'll win!
He was born from sandy heat,
With sunlight blazing down,
Buried relics hidden far beneath,
Where desert storms surround.
Walking through heated day,
Far from his oasis built,
Islands, green plains of grass,
Flowers, root, and silt.
Wind blowing harsh on skin,
Still, the Ruki carries on,
Curiosity in his heart,
Moving with the dawn.
Things he has never seen,
Yet what he has always felt,
Life's adventure, never done,
An explorer's blood long dealt.
A Yooyuball Yearning
The centrepiece of any game,
They long for crowd's loud cheer.
A lifetime spent in training though,
For but one game per year.
These tiny creatures strive so hard,
Selection, a tough test.
For only those who rise above,
Are chosen as the best.
Yooyuball a distant dream,
They'll train from dusk 'til dawn.
Wits are needed, and such speed,
Plus talent, drive, and brawn.
Those who seem of fiery tones,
Need strong flames that burn bright.
Like resting embers do they dwell,
Then in the game, ignite.
The creatures blessed with faerie wings,
Face such a lengthy fight.
To learn to glide on tiny sheaths,
Remain in play, and flight.
A darker beast in Mutant tones,
His crimson eyes aglow.
Confusion is what he trains in,
For who knows where he'll go!
On icy mountains others train,
So snowy is their coat.
They learn to play a slippery game,
And to goals slide and float.
The hardest working Petpets, these,
No matter snow or flame.
Faerie, mutant, either way,
They seek to play the game!
Total Poetry Pages : 2008
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