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SCORCHIO DAY SPECIAL
None can approach
the Scorchio's gourmet delicacy,
the exquisite sense of flavour, of taste,
of aroma, that these winged chefs have.
A fine book, called "Scorchio Cooks,"
chronicles the lives of Scorchio
chefs, their artistry, their
skill, and provides readers
with a sweet bonus in the
form of these chefs' fine
recipes, all alphabetically
laid out in the book's final
pages. Light pastries, rich
hors d'oeuvres, warm, thick,
healthful stews and soups
are carefully chronicled,
and are, when carefully
prepared, just exquisite.
Month of Running's fourteenth day,
Scorchios jump with glee.
Planning had taken them weeks,
A party, guaranteed.
And in its midst stands table bare,
Save for a single cake.
Formed roughly in a Scorchio's shape,
Scents trail in its wake.
Delicious icing covering,
Of yellow, pink, and white.
Strawberries in place of eyes,
Grinning in delight.
Wings of wafers perched on the back,
Spread out but ne'er to fly.
Tiny tail, tinier feet,
What a cute cake; oh my.
Instead of horns on Scorchio's head
Are candles striped with blue.
Flames do dance upon the wicks,
Scorchios await their cue.
One steps out from gathering crowd,
Up to the table low.
Encouraged by the cheering loud,
He takes a breath and blows.
Now as you know, Scorchios tend
To breathe fire, yes?
As he blows, fire escapes,
What happens next? Guess!
Tide of flame passes over
Scorchios' precious treat.
Alas, all that remains of it
Are puddles of icing sweet.
A Sonnet to Shumi
Meet Shumi: Scorchio first mate supreme
Upon the ship that's run by Captain Tuan.
A hand so able none would ever dream
Of stooping to replace him with a new 'un.
He's ever with his spyglass close at hand
And never seen without his metal hat.
He's strict, but fair; he's perfect to command,
And not too shabby at unarmed combat.
He searched for Hoban when that friend was lost:
He never tired, never gave up hope.
And when the pet was found at last he tossed
The navigator a stout, sturdy rope.
When Hoban climbed aboard to finally rest,
The words he spoke were, "Shumi, you're the best."
Into the crater, frenzied flight,
The Tyrannian Scorchio swiftly falls,
Following the echoes,
The fiery calls.
Darkness pounds, hot and close,
Flames scream past,
Geysers hiss a bewitching song,
Sizzling rocks dance,
A deadly throng.
He sees the gems, brilliant embers,
Mortal and hopeless,
Wings are failing, eyes ablaze,
Gems, more gems...
Down and down into the core,
To where there isn't
Rhiannon, Scorchio Princess
Waiting in the highest tower
Beside the window every hour,
Princess Rhiannon's fondest wish
Is to someday, somehow relish
The wonders of the outside world
Beyond her curtains unfurled.
One day captured by an evil knight
This indeed is the Scorchio's plight.
She waits for someone to save her
(Hopefully he'll come sooner than later),
But who is this anticipated hero?
Even Rhiannon herself doesn't know.
The days and nights just go by
And Rhiannon would stare and sigh
By her window, still with hope
(That she'll find a ladder or a rope?)
"Nobody will rescue you, Rhiannon,
"With all this moping, are you done?"
"I do not mope or sob or cry,
I, a damsel in distress? That's a lie!
Now leave me be, knight of darkness,
After so long I remain fearless.
Begone!" And lo, he was gone
His attempt to scare her failed and done.
Until now, Rhiannon continues to stay
In her tower, waiting to be taken away.
With only the Beekadoodles' trills,
The landscape and its rolling hills
To keep her company during her wait
For a hero to arrive, it's never too late.
Keeper of the Haunted Weaponry Shop
Eerie groan, tormented door,
Like a shadow, peels away.
Within a spectral wonderland,
Concealed from light of day.
Weapons ghostly line the shelves,
Aglow with phantom mist.
From darkness wicked voice is heard,
"Come in, I do insist."
Like phantom formed in nightmare's eye,
The creature shuffles back.
A beast who gleams, translucent light,
Concealed by cape of black.
Something dwells in pallid gaze,
So sickly seems the hue.
You are aware, entire time,
That beast... he's watching you.
Sweeping forth on shadowed breeze,
He hands you sword and shield.
"Take these weapons, my dear friend,
But keep them well concealed."
You push your Neopoints to wispy paw,
And murmur your farewell.
Has the shopkeep served you fair?
Alas, just time will tell.
Kelp's Maitre D'
Of all the wonderful fantastic lands,
One can find on Neopia's sands,
I'd like to introduce to you,
(So I hope you're listening, too),
This one place called kelp.
Yes, that's all, not a fancy name,
Simple and quite plain;
But actually, in reality,
It's fashionable, you see,
To have such a simple name.
I wouldn't want to ramble on
About the pristine seashell-lawn;
Or even the heavenly cuisine,
The famous Honeyed Horn of Plenty,
Served with a side of berries.
The real mystique, understand,
Lies in a Scorchio's scaly hand.
The kelp Maitre D',
As I'm sure you can see,
Is a legend unto himself.
We can see all the dishes,
Whipped up by the fishes,
Who are all amazing cooks,
Their recipes are not from books,
They wouldn't dream of that.
The waiters are all pristine,
Clad in uniforms brand-new clean;
The pianist they've hired plays,
The sound like the sun's rays,
As softly the keys are depressed.
But I am sure you can see,
You should all sit tight,
(That's just what's right),
And wait for the Maitre D';
After all, it's a restaurant.
He'll smile and guide you,
To the best table for two,
Or is it four in your group?
Done; now consider a soup,
I recommend our special Gazpacho.
Your experience will be the best,
When the Maitre D's skill is put to test;
Sloth and Jhudora's Valentine's sup,
No problem; out comes a crystal cup,
For the likes of the famous two.
So if you wish to eat anywhere,
I suggest kelp, just do up your hair,
Come in and admire the lovely view;
The Maitre D' will be right with you.
Flame of the Scorchio
Beneath his lovable exterior,
Lies a force that's quite superior.
Greater than strength and greater than might,
He's sure to give you quite a fright.
Within his being is a flame,
Few other Neopets hath the same,
Magnificent, a scorching heat,
Doth make the Scorchio truly elite.
A deep inhale, it's time to run,
No matter if he's having fun.
All of a sudden, a tremendous roar,
As fire spreads across the floor.
Such destruction you've never seen,
As landscape turns to red from green,
Such power, such force, and who's to blame?
The Scorchio, and his mighty flame.
ARRRR! A Pirate Scorchio's Tale
The sun sets past the horizon
Giving sky an orange glow
As palm trees move within the breeze
And waves crash to and fro.
The residents of Krawk Island
Retire for the night;
The ships are set into the docks
As dark takes over light,
But twilight air is filled with song,
A haunting melody,
The brutal sound of pirate song
Upon the seven seas.
And although sun has left the sky,
Pirates continue on
To carry out surprise attack.
Crew screaming, swords drawn,
Led by Scorchio captain,
They plunder and they take
Under cover of black night.
In stealing they partake.
They leave victims in state of shock
And storehouses in wreck
As they haul their new gained loot
Aboard pirate ship deck.
And as they sail out to sea
Scorchio Cap'n cries out,
"Avast! Thank ye for the treasure!"
In sarcastic shout.
First start with eggs, two need to be cracked.
If you add in an extra, you can just take it back.
Then add some milk, butter, and flour,
and mix them together for a quarter of an hour.
The special ingredient gets added next,
It's the flavour that's sweet, and has so many vexed.
It's strawberry jam -- it's next in the bowl.
Stir it slowly, don't get out of control.
Pour it into a pan, make sure your oven's preheated.
And if you mess up, these steps are repeated.
While that bakes, make the icing next.
It's strawberry too, and less complex.
Add in your egg whites and freshly cut fruit.
Mix quickly with sugar, but don't splash your suit.
The caramel wings are tricky to make,
But run down to the Bakery;
They'll have some you can take.
Take your cake out of the oven, but let it cool.
Or the icing will run and look like drool.
Once added together, they make the best dessert.
Just don't eat too much or your belly will hurt.
Share it with friends on a fancy tray,
And have a tasty treat for Scorchio Day!
Total Poetry Pages : 2008
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