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Neopets Poems

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Page 1094

Blink
By Reggieman721

Look up into the sky;
Don't blink.
See the bright stars, so high,
And think
How they got there, and why
They wink.
Distant spacecraft floats by:
Blink, blink.
Blink, went the Grundo navigator's eyes,
As he stared at his blinking screen with surprise.
According to the dots on his virtual map,
Neopia and Virtupets were about to collide!

"Think," thought the Grundo, "Oh, what can I do?
If Sloth hears about this, he'll cut me in two!"
So he ran to the door and out into the hall,
And snuck to the bridge, past Security Crew.

Sync, read the panel, All engines are well.
En route to the target of Meridell.
"Oh no! Who messed this all up?"
Could the problem be fixed? Only time would tell.

Clink! went the mainframe, and poor Grundo found
That the time of arrival was fast ticking down.
He furiously typed coordinates into the course,
Desperately hoping to turn the craft around.

"Link," he said quickly, and the spaceship obeyed,
And connected the new route without a delay.
"Back on the right track. Now that's a relief,"
The small Grundo worker wiped a sweat drop away.

Drink, called his brain, for his mouth had gone dry.
He wondered as he walked, what had gone awry?
A sip of Neocola set his worries at peace;
To work he returned with a shrug and a sigh.

Some Neopets, that night,
Still think
They saw an eerie light,
A wink.
It hovered, nearly on
The brink
Of crashing, then it turned.
And vanished with a
blink.

Top Tuskaninnys
By Anjie

A classic tome throughout the land,
It seems almost tradition.
The book that all do long to have,
Now in its fourth edition!

In bookshops it seems all sold out,
Its fame can't be outdone.
Tuskaninnies flock to this,
On booklists? Number one!

What secret hints could it unveil,
What tricks may it suggest?
Which book do Tuskaninnies seek?
A guide to be the best!

On each page lurks a handy tip,
On latest fins and trends.
Tuskaninnies, how to greet,
Or add them as your friends.

A telling tale of what they like,
A guide to their cuisine.
A 'How to' page on fin repair,
And keeping your tusks clean!

One hundred simple phrases too,
To help you both converse.
Directions on pronouncing things,
In Tuskaninny verse!

So sit back and flip through each page
And read what it's about.
But get your copy rather fast,
You might find it's sold out!

For Tuskaninnies and their fans,
This book holds treasures rare.
Priceless are the author's tips
And secrets that they share.

Usuki Doll Case
By Concertogreat_8

Stuck on the other side, my nose is pressed
Against the wall, my eyes look onward.
I am an Usuki doll in my wrapper, waiting.
Inside this plastic case, I look out, upon a scene
So cold and drear.
Is this what Outside, and They, are like?
Is this the world, my dear?

I smell strange scents -- so, so horrible,
Hideous odours assail my poor shaped nose.
No more fresh plastic, no more roses. Wail.
If I could cry real tears, I'm sure I would,
For how horrendous it truly is.
Is this what Outside, and They, are like?
Is this what causes such a fizz?

I see strange sights -- ratty dresses, ripped
Hats, pets without their shoes. Where is the silk?
Where the ribbons, the buttons, the trim?
Bells without jingles, lips without red,
Eyelashes devoid of all mascara.
Is this what Outside, and They, are like?
Is this what I was warned about by Ma?

I hear strange noises -- hoarse whispers,
Sad sighs, melancholy whines,
About things these Neopets can never fix.
Is this what Outside, and They, are like?
Is this the world in which I'll mix?

I've smelled and seen and heard and all,
And I rather think I do not like
This world they call Outside Neopia.

I'd rather stay inside this box, on this shelf,
In a store, in the Usuki Shop.
With my ribbons and bows and fresh plastic smell,
My fragrance of roses and little black shoes,
My jewel-blue eyes and rosy red cheeks.
For no amount of treasured playing can ever
Make up for

The sadness
The cold
The sighs
The rips
The melancholy tears

In Outside Neopia.

My Mutant Tongue Table Just Licked Me Today
By Schefflera

Someone has come in and furnished my room
When I was not looking today.
I only discovered the changes so soon
Because I went back there to play.

Someone has quite the unusual taste.
I think, though I cannot be sure,
They hoped to remember the look on my face
When I first pushed open the door.

The doormat has eyes, and the rug's a bit torn,
And everything seems a bit warped.
The mirror is yawning; one chair looks forlorn;
The other looks grabby. And sharp.

The table has teeth and just walked to the shelf
To turn on the lamp. I can see
This furniture that rearranges itself
May be more than too much for me.

Furniture's not meant to walk or to stare!
Or lick, or droop most of the time.
It ought to be straight, with a confident air,
Not saggy and dripping with slime.

What can I do with a place that's like this?
Where each way I turn I meet eyes?
They just look so hopeful, it's hard to resist--
Oh dear, are these thoughts at all wise?

Nobody brought them, they came on their own!
I think, though I cannot be sure...
I think I might like them, so they've found a home,
As my Neohome's mutant decor!

On Wings of Ice
By _Razcalz_

One fine evening in the mist,
An ice Draik sits beneath the moon.
Her body is of solid ice,
With frost her wings are strewn.
She wonders as feels her wings,
How neat it'd be to fly.
Alas, it's what she'll never know,
For flight is what her wings deny.

Icy membranes 'round the Draik,
So beautiful to eyes outside.
Her wings that crack at slightest bend,
Will surely shatter if spread wide.
Wings of ice, forever still,
Shall never touch the twilight sky.
The ice Draik sighs and turns to leave,
If only she could fly.

She wanders 'mongst the moonlit paths,
Water drips from thawing ice.
This Draik melts and cannot fly,
Beauty always comes at price.
As she takes her nighttime stroll,
She comes across a crowd in line.
She watches them submit their work,
"Poetry Gallery," declared a sign.

She goes to read the poets' rhymes,
A thought inside accrues:
Wings can lead one to the skies,
But words will take flight too.
The ice Draik grasps a quill,
Her eyes are shut, ideas stew.
In her mind, the verses bloom,
On wings of ice she flew.



Total Poetry Pages : 1887

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