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KOUGRA DAY SPECIAL
Island Kougra Perfection
She stands alone upon the hill,
The sun catching in her majestic fur:
A lovely striped coat of tan and white,
Which smells faintly of elusive myrrh.
Her eyes are something else entirely --
They glitter gold with flecks of green,
And possess a mysterious quality,
Both hypnotising and keen.
Then there are the teeth and claws:
They gleam dangerously like blades,
More beautiful accessories cannot be found,
In all the surrounding glades.
Next to describe is her regal garb:
On her tail is an expensive ring.
More impressive are the flowers around the neck,
Which are most striking during spring.
Last to mention is her graceful gait --
She is an elegant one, it's true.
Her movements are fluid and lithe
And so quick that none can pursue.
So what creature is this, you ask,
Do you not know by now?
She is a pristine Island Kougra,
The most perfect creature Neopia can allow!
Rumours of the Kougra Archaeologist
The tales with awe are always told
Around the fire, to young and old.
While in the background shadows sneak,
A steady voice begins to speak...
"Time and again I've heard them say,
The Kougra Archaeologist set out one day,
His red face bright with a fire blind,
So keen was he on what he might find.
He struggled and fought in forest grim,
He entered caves that were fearfully dim.
This and more he journeyed through
To seek the Tomb of Geraptiku.
His prints were last found near the tomb.
It's often said that in the gloom,
He heard a door behind him close...
And what befell him, no one knows.
Perhaps he was caught by Potgatkerchi
Who fiercely guards a ruined city.
Perhaps, with his final living sight,
He saw the villain's mask alight...
And he joined the ghosts, I like to think,
He stepped across the secret brink,
Into that underworld so deep,
Where fires and wooden totems leap.
So next time you go to Geraptiku,
Remember this tale, I ask of you.
Few things are considerably worse
Than Potgatkerchi's famous curse.
But if perchance you meet the ghosts,
Tell our Kougra we miss him most...
And now the hour's getting late,
So goodnight all! Your beds await."
The poet's purpose is to
Use words, like a pale-flickering candle,
And shed a little light
On the obscurities of life's meaning.
It is not always easy,
Nor is it rewarding --
Day by day Rorru sits
And composes her carefully thought lines
Of five and seven and five syllables,
And her visitors listen with half an ear
Before wandering away.
Some days, even the little clusters of verses
That she speaks to comfort herself
Resounded strangely --
Music on a lyre
Whose fine strings have been made lose
By the damps of time.
Kougra clad in armour dark,
They called him Gormos bold.
Serving under Dr. Sloth,
Commander loyal, cold.
'Twas during one of old Sloth's plans
To take over the world...
That Gormos's fame was doomed to rise;
His conscience was unfurled.
How, you ask, was villain changed?
The story goes like this:
There was a battle raging on,
Hardly a time of bliss.
Resistance members fought against
Sloth's many minions.
Space Station was to be freed
From villain's dominion.
Sloth looked on in spaceship vast,
While Gormos made reports.
Kougra was told to bring coffee,
(Yes, villains drink the sort.)
So Gormos went; coming 'cross
The heroes two along his grumpy way.
Commander allowed the pair to pass,
For which Dr. Sloth did pay.
Gorix and Cylara proceeded,
Defeating Sloth at last.
Gormos's name was cheered aloud,
Inscribed on statue's brass.
Gormos sure was horrified
At Grundos' steep mistake...
Neopia surely owes him thanks --
Thanks he shall never take.
The Fate of Fire Paw
Lava pulsed, a crimson lake,
Embracing all it met.
Cascaded down in angry streams,
Grew colder, slowly set.
Amidst volcano's raging heat,
Small Kougra quaked with fear.
The air was hot, the walls bright red,
And nought made sense in here.
Scorchios, so kind of heart,
Did sweetly take him in.
Thus near lava, molten rock,
His life would soon begin.
Years spent in the fire's heart,
The Kougra came of age.
Fire Paw, who walks on heat,
And braves volcano's rage!
Time would pass, his name would spread,
All spoke of him at length.
Of how the fire couldn't burn,
Or falter Kougra's strength.
When volcano doth erupt,
And down the mountain pour.
Amidst the rumble, you may hear,
The rage of Kougra's roar!
Rorru's Claim to Fame
How did it all start?
Nobody quite knows the facts,
Just words, woven taut.
She sits, writes, all day,
Then shares haikus with the world,
Watching the delight.
But why on Mystery?
Is it because they're senseless?
Or is there meaning?
If so, it is hidden
Deep within her striking words,
Waiting to be found.
She sits, writes, nightly,
But oh! In the afternoon,
A writer takes breaks.
She plays Berry Bash!
What a sweet, enchanting game,
For a sweet Kougra.
Who captured Lifira and took her away?
In the Palace of Ancient Kings does he stay
With his skeletal sidekicks, he lies in wait
For the Uni's rescuers; are they already late?
They call this Kougra the Revenant
Neither good knight nor snooty savant,
Mummified, dead for years and years
And animated again; an epitome of fears.
But who brought him back, dare I ask?
Who undertook such a frightening task?
Who is he, and what are his plans?
Does he wish to conquer these desert lands?
Nobody even remembers the Revenant's name
Or even the name and nature of his game.
Alas, there's not much we know,
Except for the end of his tale of woe.
The undead of the Palace of Ancient Kings
Have fallen; heroes do not heed their warnings.
The Revenant is next and suffers the same fate,
Indeed, Rohane and his troupe weren't late.
They free Lifira and make a quick getaway,
Then she reveals that she's got a lot to say
About the Revenant, about her kidnapping,
About the Lost Desert, about everything.
Now, this nameless villain is long gone,
But the entire story is far from done.
An electric Kougra on mountain high
In silhouette against the sky
Face turned t'ward the mounting storm,
It must be Zeirn's eager form.
For due to a Laboratory Ray mishap,
A singular and incredible zap,
While others fear the squall and cower,
Zeirn can harness its frightful power.
The flash that forks across the sky
Reflected by his amber eyes,
The firebolt that splits the night
Grants this Kougra the gift of flight.
No faerie wings upon his back
Nor rocket boots, nor a jetpack,
But when lightning fills the firmament,
Zeirn is able to begin his ascent.
The thunder low and rumbling booms
As through the air the Kougra zooms.
He answers with a deafening roar
As through the void he dips and soars.
Electricity running through his veins,
Heart pumping the current to his brain,
At one with the atmosphere,
At the speed of light he'll disappear.
But for now Zeirn awaits the storm's approach,
His fur on end from static's touch,
Muscles aquiver, pulled taut and tight,
Eager to taste again the freedom of flight.
Although he seems a villain
Who serves Lord Sloth first and foremost,
You'd be surprised to find the heart
That's held in Commander Gormos.
A willing servant to the Doctor
And a truly mighty soldier,
He had risen through the ranks
To become Sloth's right-hand Kougra.
But as Sloth feared his defeat,
His kindness to his crew would fail.
And an angry stubborn Gormos knew
It was time for betrayal.
So when Gormos found the heroes
Of the Resistance on the 'craft,
He didn't say a word to Sloth
And just chose to stand and laugh.
For he knew that Sloth was angry
And that now he would be furious,
But this is how he'd learn his lesson
Not to mess with pets named Gormos!
But our Kougra friend himself
Ended with more than he wanted.
For on Kreludor you'll find
A statue for Gormos to be honoured.
"This was not right!" he'd thought
As he stared at the golden beauty.
"Everyone always must remember,
I will NEVER be a goodie!"
Mystery Island --
A grass hut in the jungle --
A green Kougra waits.
The haiku master,
Although very little of
What she says makes sense.
That is because she
Is bounded by those hateful
Syllables. Yes, those.
It isn't easy
To speak haiku all the time --
Not at all, you know.
But it makes you sound
Very wise, and that is why
Rorru keeps it up.
Never mind the fact
That there is no substance to
Anything she says.
No, who really cares?
Maybe it isn't all that
Hard to write haikus.
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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