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Acrostic of Faerieland
Far beyond the cobalt skies,
A realm so cloudy softly lies.
Aeons pass, its towers stand,
Regal in exquisite land.
Idle nimbus, drifting by.
Endless is the vibrant sky.
Land Fyora calls her own,
A Queen, she sits, on violet throne.
Nature gentle, so serene,
Dearly beloved, Faerie Queen.
Indigo, the towers high,
Spiralling in silken sky.
Hidden Tower, said to dwell,
I don't know where, though, none will tell.
Does it lay far to the east?
Deepest secret, not released.
Evil too shall taint this land,
Nefarious, Jhudora's hand.
When the sunlight slumbers soft,
Iridescent moon, aloft.
The realm is light by silver gleam,
Hoards of stars, a flawless dream.
Ivory, the moonlit sphere,
Nightfall's veil, shadowed, sheer.
Castle nestled on a cloud,
Luminous and standing proud.
Opalescent, dancing light,
Under sunbeams, glowing bright.
Dear Fyora's realm up high,
So well hidden, in the sky.
If you seek the knowledge of the Eyrie kind,
Listen well, with open ears and open mind.
Still your tail, and cross your hooves,
Uni, Aisha, alike, calm and quiet moves.
This tale is unique, for nowhere else can it be found,
And long it has been since those who knew abound.
Do not tarry, do not presume to look
Inside your library, in a precious Neopian book,
Or indeed in any sort of written document,
Crumbling paper, silken sheet torn and rent,
And no amount of searching will you avail,
All material things, in comparison are pale.
None of these hold any sort of clue or key
To what you seek to get from me.
It cannot be found in any dusty volume,
Rather, it was woven in the threads by a loom,
And painted on a silver monument in a mind,
Locked away in the memories of their kind.
Stretched across the starry skies,
Between constellations, written in their eyes,
A legacy of many thousand Neopian years,
A legacy of joy, of sorrow, hope, and tears.
Boldly, even if needs be soar upon a broken wing,
The Eyrie kind will not cry, but rather sing,
The song in their heart that is a cloud,
Buoyed beyond the clear air, rightly proud.
Eyrie fly, and Eyrie sing,
Eyrie love, and Eyrie bring
Joy to hearts of Neopia.
Pasts lost; these creatures of flight need no pages;
Turmoil, peace, a history of talented mages,
All contained deep within the Eyrie mind,
Those who have no need of writing-kind,
Those who soar beneath the sky, bereft of fear.
Ode to Armin
Your kinfolk were all frozen
Until Usul Hannah came,
A courageous (yet small) Bori
Who says "Wicked curse to blame!"
Taelia tried to help you,
But alas, it was not so.
Before the day was out
She became buried under snow!
But it was you who saved them all,
Who aimed your slingshot true,
Who knocked the Bringer off his feet;
He lost without a clue.
But why did we all trust your strength
When you stood small and cold?
Your smile and your kindness
Directed to your heart of gold!
Let's face it that you're tiny,
You're a little lump of fur,
But deep inside that fluffy heap
Lies power beyond compare!
We give our thanks to Armin,
Terror Mountain owes its guard
And with it, there's a moral:
Heroes don't always come in large.
Endless night lies
Within the earth's damp bowels.
Darkness permeates the caves,
The tunnels and the halls.
'Tis in such a humble abode
Does a race of Petpets live,
Scavenging golden treasures,
To others they do give.
The Symols scurry and they work,
Their treasures do stack high,
And whilst they are so generous,
They really are quite shy.
Other Petpets, curious,
All stumble upon their home,
The Symols, peaceful souls,
Permit them all to roam.
So thus the little Petpets all
Take what they can get,
Whilst precious little Symols,
Despite their effort, they do not regret.
Anxious owners await on ground
For their dear Petpets to come,
Scurrying, burying, snuffling,
The Symols move around.
At long last the weary Petpets
Emerge from the hole,
Clutched by many are precious gifts,
Even statues of solid gold!
Reunited owners sigh in relief,
Thank Fyora, nothing went wrong.
But little did they know,
Perhaps a kind Symol had helped them along!
Swimming through the silky water,
His fins flowing softly behind him,
Strong, imposing, and powerful.
Jetting through the watery utopia,
Sleek and fast,
He overtakes them all.
On top of the world,
He knows he's best,
The others disappear behind him.
He knows who he will be,
Knows who he was,
Knows who he is.
Always a Jetsam.
Total Poetry Pages : 1961
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