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KYRII DAY SPECIAL
Capara the Kyrii
A cheater and a thief,
obsessed with perfect hair.
This Kyrii will wipe you clean,
and she'll do it with flair.
Capara: beautiful and captivating,
but very quick to anger too.
Don't dare to face her in Cheat!,
or to your money you'll say adieu.
Cards in one hand,
and in the other, a golden brush.
Watch her expression carefully,
if she's lying she'll surely blush.
The Neopian Times calls her
"the feisty rising star."
Feisty she surely is,
but with Spectre, she's not on par.
If you manage to beat her in Cheat!,
I'll take off my hat to you.
But don't dare to touch her hair,
it's the last thing you'll ever do.
Royalty runs through his veins,
Anger courses through his brain.
Zero tolerance for fools,
Under none he shall rule,
Lest the great Razul be slain.
Sakhmet imprisoned, Qasala cursed,
His son made it go from bad to worse,
After Nabile and he wed,
Little Jazan made his bed
Lying in it, he hoped to reverse.
Razul will overcome once more
Instead of peace, he creates war.
Sakhmet stands no chance, 'twill be left in a trance,
Ever empty, just like before.
Another day he will return,
Getting revenge is his concern.
As his legacy lives
In the desert, he gives
Necromancers' fire a chance to burn.
His stomach churns for another day,
A grotesque pile of food sits on his tray,
The whistle blows, the Kyrii eats away,
Another win soon to come.
As he chews, his eyes linger around,
The other diners, their chomps do sound,
Yet to their plates, they all are bound,
The Kyrii eats every last crumb.
One meal gone, another is served,
And all the gamblers soon observed,
Their money placed on the Kyrii, well deserved,
To their wills the Kyrii does succumb.
And so he devours another plate with glee,
And the crowd does erupt, all agree,
This Kyrii will lead them to money, you see,
The pirate mutters jollily, 'Yum!'
And so the final course does arrive,
And into the meal, the Kyrii does dive,
And another Food Club game he does survive,
The champion does he become!
Light fills up the sky --
A crack! And then it's over.
It still has two miles to go;
She dashes to the river.
Whistling through the trees,
Fast as the wind she runs.
Crunch of earth beneath her feet;
The Kyrii keeps on moving.
A race to the finish,
No time to rest; keep moving,
Ignore cramping muscles.
The trees sway; approving.
Hair whipping past her face,
Like knives they cut the air.
She begins to feel the chase;
It's gaining on her.
The sky is lighted once more,
Illuminates the night.
She trips over a nest
And startles birds into flight.
The racing river sounds nearby;
She's made it to her shelter.
The raindrops descend from the sky;
She's beaten the storm once again.
White gown trails to the floor,
Sparkles shine in the limelight,
On the dancing Kyrii.
Air is light, snow falls,
Brushing the dance floor,
Bathed in cold moonlight.
Two paws beat the floor --
Snowflakes drift skyward,
Twirling through still night.
Dancing Kyrii, moving silently,
A step, and eyes wide in wonder,
Lips parted for an escaping sigh.
Arms outreached she twirls slow,
Faint footprints in the snow,
And like white roses in her hair.
The moon looks on,
Wondering from the sky,
Silent audience to the dance.
Nighttime wonders and alone,
Spectre of the winter moon,
Admiral Kyrwinne's Little Nippers
"Little Nippers" the painted sign reads;
It swings to and fro in the salty breeze.
Wooden boards creak beneath your feet
As the sun blazes in a fit of heat.
Your sweat falls to the planks with a plop --
As you peer curiously into the small shop.
Oh, what a sight for hungry eyes!
Your mouth falls open in surprise.
For the room was packed with little critters --
And filled with sounds of chirps and twitters!
Narwhools, Mirgles, Pawkeets and Weewoos --
And Deavers and Blibbles, Flortas, too!
"Arr, what are ye doin' in me shop?"
Turning, you feel your heart drop --
To find yourself facing a large Kyrii --
His eyes full of maniacal glee.
"Your Petpets are rather fine, sir,"
You blurt, "and you have excellent fur."
(It seems quite absurd in hindsight,
The things we utter out of fright --
But you'd understand if you were there.
For he had a mane of long blue hair,
A jaunty blue cap, and a leg of wood.)
Then the Kyrii let out a sharp bark,
His gold earring gleaming in the dark --
"What are ye lookin' for, matey?
Something ter buy? Kateil, Stahkee?"
His wooden leg tapped against the floor,
Soft as a sigh yet loud as a roar.
"I just wanted to see your store,"
I whisper, looking toward the door.
"Please, sir, don't be mad, sir."
"Admiral Kyrwinne," the Kyrii purrs.
"Mad? Why, I'm over the moon!
Ahoy, just show me yer Dubloons!"
Telos, Kyrii Necromancer
In night's ebon shroud of silence
Deep within the Haunted Woods
Roams a Kyrii necromancer
Terror of the neighbourhood.
With his powers of shape-shifting,
In league with fearsome Balthazar,
Telos practises evil acts,
The art of a wicked sorcerer.
Assuming the form of friendly mortals
(Purple Poogles his specialty),
Telos casually walks the Woods
Engaging, entrapping naive faeries.
And when he has them in his possession,
Helpless within his terrible sway,
Telos drains them of their powers
Releasing them as faeries grey.
Oh! What evil walks among us!
Posing as a compatriot!
What fear must set one's wings atremble
Once hopelessly a Faerie's caught!
Is it indeed the loss of powers
That turns these once bright faeries grey?
Or could it be the foul deception
The mortification of trust betrayed?
The Kyrii Witch Doctor
All around the cauldron boil,
A liquid seethingly did roil.
Shadows and their churning shapes,
Unable to make their dread escapes.
A chanting Kyrii dropped a shoot,
The smoke grew dark from soot.
In went twigs and leaves and more,
Knowledge hidden from our lore.
The green-plait skirt swayed to tune,
The potion would be done quite soon.
Braided hair danced along,
To the esoteric song.
The painted face split into a grin,
Excitement poured from within.
The Island Kyrii tapped his staff,
And uttered a manic laugh.
The concoction was complete,
As green as leaves, exuding heat.
The wind began to moan,
Through a necklace of bone.
The witch doctor dipped in a cup,
Thicker than the thickest syrup.
He downed the drink in a moment,
A drink so green and fragrant.
He clutched his hand in pain,
It hurt from unknown strain.
As quickly as it came it was gone,
And a fearsome fire was drawn.
The witch doctor's work was finished!
Neopia would lose all that it cherished!
The Kyrii Thief
Something slithers, far from light,
A shadowed figure through the night,
Footfalls silent, figure sprite,
The thief walks in the shadows.
Rope unlaced from Kyrii's hip,
Through paws do coils slide and slip.
Slung up high, he holds firm grip,
The thief climbs through the shadows.
Sneaks inside with motions bold,
A trove within he doth behold,
Jewels, riches, stranger's gold,
The thief works in the shadows.
Pockets fill, ill-gotten gains,
Tension running through his veins,
When he is done, nothing remains,
The thief steals in the shadows.
Smirk doth play on lips so fast,
Back down the rope, he slithers past.
Darkness engulfs, safe at last,
The thief hides in the shadows.
Returned home, a sudden cry,
"Robbed! A thief has wandered by!"
Yet he's long gone, that Kyrii, sly,
The thief laughs in the shadows.
He counts the gains with smug delight,
A hefty haul he gained tonight.
His playground? Realm devoid of light,
The thief stays in the shadows...
Glug Glug Jones
Glug Glug Jones, the Kyrii lad,
Has a problem, and has it bad.
He loves his Krakuberry juice,
But has no adequate excuse
For why he drinks and drinks and drinks.
When asked 'bout it, he simply winks.
"When you drink juice of Krakuberries,
You'll begin to feel quite merry.
The fizzy bubbles hit your nose,
And more and more the beverage flows.
Eventually, you'll hit the floor
And still be crying out for more!"
But Glug Glug Jones, why do you drink
So much that you're hard-pressed to think?
Too much of it cannot be good;
Now, do you really think you should
Continue drinking oh so much?
It leaves you groggy, out of touch.
"Don't worry, boy, I've got it down!
With me, you'll never wear a frown.
For I am cheerful, always bright.
I sleep all day, am up at night
At parties drinking Kraku juice!
I'm not some kind of shy recluse."
All right, then, Glug Glug, if you say.
I'll leave you and be on my way.
But just one thing before I go.
Kraku juice is great, although
Before you drink it, heed my warning:
You'll regret it in the morning.
Shining metal, crimson, teal;
A Kyrii bot, that's me.
Beneath the sky, I reminisce,
The star I used to be.
Space Yooyuballers, tall and skilled,
I'd been with them in a proud line.
Goalie of the Virtupets...
A title that had once been mine.
Gleaming Kyrii at field's end,
With one goal: to defend.
Programmed to protect the net,
I had obeyed with ease.
Never tiring, rarely hurt --
Made goalkeeping a breeze.
Light green gaze narrowed and quick,
Unmatched, my speed had been.
Stopping even swiftest shots,
Thanks to the gears within.
Consistent, forceful, quick on toes:
A bot's strengths are in those.
Effective as my traits had been,
They claimed I had my flaws.
Adapting was no easy task;
Sudden, new moves gave me pause.
A bot knows only what it's told,
What's programmed can't adjust.
My fault is what I can't predict,
(Well, that and horrid rust.)
Two years I served as goalie proud,
A Kyrii cheered on by the crowd.
Where am I now, you might wonder,
Abandoned, here I lay.
They built a newer, better bot,
Replaced me, so to say.
My usefulness had worn away,
Betrayal I have known;
For deep beneath the casings thick...
I'm still a Kyrii lone.
Released from command, 'tis my fate:
'til end of time, I wait.
The Kyrii Scribe
Pen in hand, head in the clouds,
Her creativity knows no bounds.
With blank pages open
She sighs, and then
Oh, has an idea been found?
Kyrii scribe, what now will you write?
What subject seems just about right?
Flying Beekadoodles, the golden sun,
Rolling hills, Unis on the run?
Kyrii scribe, will you write a story this time?
Or several verses in perfect rhyme?
Maybe you could make a mental note
To pen one of your more interesting anecdotes.
Kyrii scribe, you know what today is?
A day no Kyrii would ever miss.
Look at your friends, all frolicking outside,
Take this time to rest your mind.
Kyrii scribe, don't just stare,
Inspiration may very well be out there!
Maybe now you can finally create
Your next masterpiece; it's never too late!
But I am celebrating Kyrii Day, she says,
I prefer the quiet of my own space, she confesses.
I shall honor this occasion
And pour out my elation
Into words, as I sit at my desk.
Total Poetry Pages : 1961
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