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The Grundo Scientist
Perhaps he remembers the nervous days,
The days of terror in Sloth's regime,
When white stars wept and bright sparks flew,
And purple and orange clashed with a scream.
Now all that is gone, no more than a blur,
No more than a whisper that fades into space.
His blaster lies useless, his gauntlets dark,
His chemicals safe in a quiet place.
But still he's a scientist, the very best kind,
The kind who can work and fight to the last.
He's kept his knowledge and all his skills;
He knows how to fix a lethal blast.
No foes remain on the barren land,
No physical foes to be faced and fought.
The wars are over, but the pain's still there,
And within its coils the Grundo is caught.
His churning mind is held in a globe,
A globe of glass that gleams in the dark.
His round goggles linger before his fierce eyes;
Within his heart he treasures that spark.
So on he proceeds, upon his meteor,
To ride alone in the wars of his past.
The meteors alone comprehend his toil,
For they too are vicious, lost and fast.
The Neopet that dares to disturb his work
Will face an instant explosion of rage,
For nothing will ease the Grundo Scientist,
Nothing will unlock his invisible cage.
Never again will he understand peace.
Brightvale Castle Turret
Across vales of green it stands so powerful and tall.
Panes of coloured glass shine so high for all to see.
The Brightvale Castle turret towers greatly over all.
Its structure is unparalleled; of this do all agree.
It's built from solid stone
Protecting Hagan's throne.
'Tis guarded day and night,
From base to utmost height.
The sentries marching to its guard posts at times tell
They stand up so high it appears that they can see
Across the tumbling plains toward farflung Meridell,
Some will even dare to say their eyes glance the sea.
That's likely to be true,
For there is such a view.
This cannot be denied,
That it is rather high.
The tower's so tall,
And Hagan will say
It will never fall,
It will always stay.
Through storm and
Wind, it will remain
Of snow and rain.
In some places
It is quite thin;
In some spaces,
Bends slightly in.
But in the base, where lies the cornerstone,
It is stronger than any other structure known.
The Brightvale Castle turret holds its own,
Standing up for knowledge born and grown.
Ode to Custard
Oh, custard of that golden hue,
I relish in the thought of you.
Your sweet scent makes me haste
To grab a spoon and take a taste.
Though you can be rather lumpy
To meet you, I'm never grumpy.
Regardless of your varying flavour,
It's always you that I will savour.
Baked, candied, or in a bowl,
My everlasting searching goal
Is to quest, gather, and collect
The finest custard of the select.
Topped with cream or tangy berries,
I will never hesitate nor tarry.
Unique or weird I'll take a bite --
Custard so fine will always taste right!
Oh, custard, whether green or blue,
One thing will always remain true:
On my list your are forever elite,
As long as you taste so ever sweet.
In a Mansion Darkening
In a mansion, twisting, twisting,
Where sun is scared away,
Where webs as thick as vines festoon
The walls, and block the day.
In a mansion, hiding, 'til
The darkest part of night,
Count Von Roo lurks in there,
In the shadows, out of sight.
In a mansion, darkening,
As the sun slips down the sky --
A coffin lid is creaking
With a sound like dead man's sigh.
In a mansion, black as pitch,
Von Roo lies in wait,
'Til with his fangs and with his
Claws he brings an early fate.
So if you pass a mansion
When the silver moon shines high,
Hurry past, do not stop,
Tarry not or you will die.
A Sparkling Flotsam Fountain
Elegance in moment caught,
Etched, each perfect line.
Symmetry beyond reproach,
Creation so divine.
What mastery, what flawless view!
All found in Flotsam's form.
This simple object taken home,
A garden may transform.
The natural merge, the flawless match,
As water flows so soft.
Flotsam posed, her face serene,
Finned tail held aloft.
Enchanting is relaxing sound,
That fountain doth provide.
Evoking images of waves,
Upon which Flotsams glide.
How the sunlight gleams around,
To smile on Flotsam form.
Shimmer dances on her fins,
Blessed by the sunbeams, warm.
Water 'round the Flotsam's shape,
Evokes thoughts of the sea.
Of creatures diving in the waves,
Of Flotsams, swimming free.
Total Poetry Pages : 1868
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