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KRAWK DAY SPECIAL
Once, No More -- Tale of the Krawk
Upon the soft white sand,
Nervous and unsure is where I stand.
I watch the waves tumble and crash,
Against the pale shore they splash.
I hug my coat around my waist,
Grateful to have the soft warm lace.
My eyes search the empty beach,
But there isn't a soul in reach.
I walk over the quiet shore,
The dreadful wind chilling me to my core.
The cave is now within my sight,
As the night fades from dark to light.
The morning sun breathes over the land,
Lighting up the pearly white sand.
I step into the dark, damp cave,
I can't even pretend to be brave.
The walls drip with squelching moss,
Their original shape, many years a loss.
The green fungus oozes onto me,
Stretching as far into the darkness as I can see.
Slowly I reach out my paw,
And scrape some underneath my claw.
Nervously I reach my hand to my face,
Taking my last look around this awful place.
I close my eyes to shield them from the light,
Shards of piercing white blinding my sight.
Holding my breath, I open my eyes,
And I gasp, knowing the stories weren't just lies.
I'm bigger now, strong and tall.
Ha! Thank Fyora I'm no longer small!
A real Krawk, I am now, fierce and bold.
My shiny yellow colour, sleek as gold.
No longer am I just a little Petpet,
No, I'm the biggest Krawk you'll have ever met!
The horrid taste was worth the while,
To put some sharp gleam into my smile.
Grinning, I skip down the shore,
The cold wind not even reaching my core.
Off to Neopia, lands I have forever known,
To show my owner how much I've grown!
My Lady's Dressing Room (To a Royal Krawk)
My Lady is out, won't you join me
For a quick perusal of the elegant disorder
Of My Lady's dressing room?
There stands the dressing table,
Sheer opulence spread in a glittering mess
Upon white marble: perfume bottles,
Exquisite jewellery carelessly tossed,
A small priceless heap
Of opal and diamond sheens.
Rare flowers, the offerings of hopeful courtiers,
Lie in a wilted tumble
And punctuate the clutter
With the smell of Shenkuu hothouses.
A step in the passage --
Quickly, let us leave
These royal secrets to their secret retreat,
Leave the oppressive atmosphere
Of perfume and flowers and luxury,
Or My Lady will not be pleased.
The Tale of Gebarn II
Long, long ago, when the desert was young,
Before the dunes were under Coltzan's hand,
Gebarn ruled, pharaoh of the Lost Desert,
Influence extending over the land.
Sadly, Gebarn II's reign was far from peaceful,
Tornadoes plagued them, a pitiful sight.
Medallion of Wind assembled in full
Was the only way to end Gebarn's plight.
Artefact broken, Krawk king dead and gone,
Desert in chaos, all evidence lost.
Till Gebarn returns to guard medallion
Within a temple, guarding at all costs.
History repeats itself as he stays
Bound to his duty for all of his days.
Mr. Krawley's Temptation to Bruno
I promise you your wildest dreams --
With just a few gulps of this flask
All your troubles will disappear.
Your bright future will be unmasked,
No longer will you get beaten down,
No longer will you be alone.
Your hopes lie in this green liquid
(Though the effects are really unknown).
I promise you affection
From that flower you desire.
That lovely Lily will want your love;
Take that thought, let it inspire you
To buy my ware and test the tides.
I guarantee it will work out.
What can you lose, except yourself?
Your vices you can do without!
So really, you can trust this face,
This Krawkish smile tells no lies.
Just hand over coins and drink up,
And be ready for the surprise.
Your life will change and you'll be proud
Of the way that fate has turned.
(I've convinced him, now onto town
And what happens? I'm unconcerned.)
No Matter How Far a Krawk Roams
In a cave dripping with fungus spores
Each Krawk assumes its adult form,
And no matter how far away they roam
Every Krawk is tied to its island home.
The salt within the surrounding spray,
The tides, the foaming surge each day --
This salt runs too in each Krawk's own veins,
Calling it back to Krawk Island again.
Though a Krawk may be taken far away,
Painted, dressed, and put on display,
Each Krawk is a pirate in its bones,
Would sell its mother for gold Dubloons.
The sun that rises every morning,
Stirring Neopia to life with its warming,
It first breaks dawn over far Krawk Isle,
Marking home to each Krawk across the miles.
The constellations appearing in the darkened skies
Are true signposts to the practised eyes.
What can seem like a morass of jumbled lights
Are beacons to Krawks in the inky nights.
Krawks of fungus, sea salt, and pirate bones,
Krawks of signal sun and starry beacons,
No matter how far away they roam,
Krawks are firmly tied to their island home.
On Krawk Day, There Is No Need for a Pout!
In a bed surrounded by cried-upon tissues,
You're having hard-to-beat Krawk Day issues,
No Krawks on Krawk Day? How can this be?
It's been that way for generations, you see.
But please, let's not blubber and sulk all day,
You can celebrate the Krawk in many a way,
With a little imagination and a creative spark,
Krawk Day can be imprinted by your special mark.
Dubloon Disaster could be your game!
It's a simple way to celebrate, far from lame.
Indeed, a Krawk is the one to drive the boat
And picks up the numerous Dubloons afloat!
With millions to spend, you're ready to shop,
Then Neopia Central is your first place to stop,
Attempting to own the new Krawk items first,
You stalk the shops until your head might burst.
Not much for sitting, you grab some friends,
Creating a Krawk Day party until the night ends,
Laughing and dancing, you've forgotten to sulk,
Having unhappiness today would be too much bulk.
As you can see, there is no need for fret,
You'll have a fabulous day on Krawk Day, I bet,
Using the various methods spoken about,
On Krawk Day, there's no such thing as a pout!
Dorak the Dubloon Hunter
Searching through all wreck's debris,
A Krawk is rowing out at sea.
His tiny boat atop the waves,
Lost treasure is the thing he craves.
The boat is rather small, and yet
Dorak will row till sun has set.
His home an island, tucked away,
Where pirate ships nearby do sway.
The haven of each buccaneer,
Who to Krawk Island quickly steer.
A treasure trading point, they boast,
Where sunken gold lies off the coast.
Black Pawkeet rules the waters here,
A reign of horror, quite severe.
Near other ships that sail by,
The Pawkeet's cannonballs do fly.
And so Dorak will often row,
To find Dubloons lost long ago.
He steers so clear of that dark ship,
His boat over the waves does skip.
To see the telltale sheen below,
A golden shimmer, Dubloon's glow.
So with the sinking of each deck,
The small Krawk profits from the wreck!
Listen to the sound of the drums
As you push a vine to the side;
A sound that shakes you deep inside,
Terrified, you just want to hide.
Yet, you continue on your way
Through the jungle on the Island;
Deep into its heart you walk,
Farther away from the strand.
The sound gets louder as you walk,
Your eyes are opened wide with fear;
Yet, your feet keep carrying you --
The Krawk Shaman is near.
Maybe he has cast a spell
That makes you walk to his hut,
Maybe you're just curious
Despite the horror in your gut.
The drums are loud, you're almost there.
You push a large leaf to the side;
A clearing lies in front of you,
'Tis the place where he does reside.
Standing there in the middle,
Hidden under a terrible mask,
Is a brown Krawk, twice your size,
Completely absorbed in his task.
The feathers on his head vibrate,
The drums seem to play on their own,
The Krawk Shaman lifts his head
Holds high up in the air a bone.
You finally regain your senses,
Let the leaf fall back down,
Run away as fast as you can
Until you reach the next town.
When my beautiful gold Krawk is thinking,
He becomes a lovely statue,
His mind afloat, somewhere else,
Away in an unknown world.
In the stillness of the garden,
Among the shimmering trees,
There comes only a light scratching
of Yoofyoof's pencil on paper.
He watches the world and draws.
His siblings don't disturb him,
For when he's caught so tight in his dreams,
He will scarcely speak.
The last line falls into place,
The last scrap of a reverie,
Still warm from the sun, still tangible, yet
He raises his intelligent, amber gaze,
And sees his family there.
"We've been waiting for you," they tell him,
And, smiling, he follows them home.
March of the Robot Krawk
Metal clanks with every step,
Concealing the soft whir.
Krawk encased in darkest teal,
Commands act as his spurs.
Station floating out in space
Is where this Krawk stands guard.
Marching 'round entire deck,
No door can keep him barred.
Golden chest does sparkle, gleam,
Bathed in the light of green.
Strongly shine the wary eyes,
Beacons of brightest sheen.
They miss no detail, seeing all
That goes on at the time.
Polished tail swings back and forth,
As up the stairs he climbs.
Left, right, left, right,
Nearing the supply deck.
Robot Krawk's unblinking gaze
Illumines endless trek.
Lever of Doom, silently
Awaits at Station's rear.
Krawk marches on as visitors go,
He does not interfere.
Marching Krawk's grin widens now
As he ascends once more.
Splat a Sloth? Even a robot would
Find that hard to ignore.
Part of him longs to join in,
Escaping mission bland.
But to this day, he marches on...
Bound to his one command.
Total Poetry Pages : 1983
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