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Neopets Poems

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The MSPP and the Plushie Poogle
By Dragonstorm_75

Two Poogles did go out to-day,
They looked quite similar, I must say!
One was happy, good and nice,
The other was filled with terrible vice!

The evil one, MSPP was he,
The good was just a simple plushie.
Both the same in cloth and eyes,
But one was kind, the other but a guise!

MSPP went to the Bakery,
And left the keeper most angry!
The plushie came in and asked for bread,
Why, he was kicked out instead!

Then MSPP went to the stand
Where hot dogs are sold, strand by strand.
When he left, Hubert was livid,
And the poor plushie Poogle got booted!

The same thing happened everywhere,
MSPP went in, and Poogle unaware,
Got kicked out, without a moment to spare,
Now that, my friends, was hardly fair!

When the plushie returned to his humble home,
After his odd, adventurous roam,
He wondered why all of the shopkeepers
Were so mean and nasty to-day!

Poogle Merchant
By Reggieman721

The Poogle merchant makes a bow
As other salesmen shout and yell.
In modest tones, with furrowed brow,
He offers you his wares to sell.

His eyes and fur are silky brown;
Gold sparkles at his ears and wrists.
A humble vest and sash hang down;
Rings glitter on his unclenched fists.

His specialty is fabric, cloth --
Sakhmet's finest textile rolls.
From high-stacked cart he pulls them off
And each, in measured voice, extols.

The patterns, colours, textures are
Without a doubt, the greatest draw.
Locals, tourists from afar
Examine them with equal awe.

The Poogle merchant merely stands
Off to the side near wooden rack.
No need to shout as eager hands
Pour Neopoints in velvet sack.

Ode to Alstaf Poogle
By Lily2b18

Alstaf, you cover the poetry,
And as I break the fourth wall,
I'll say that you fill me up with glee,
I love you most out of them all.
There's nothing more that you could do
Or that you could write
To make me fall out of love with you
Or cry about you at night.
You spend your nights and days right here,
Judging the poems we poets send in,
But we've nothing in the least to fear,
If our poem is good, we get in.
The metre and rhyme are just the ticket
For making a poem to make you smile,
And maybe you'll like it enough to pick it,
But for me, that happens only once in a while!

Racers Five
By _Razcalz_

Clouds as light as Babaa's wool,
Each step so gently sinks.
Racetrack famed of Faerieland,
Above the Fountain's brink.
Five-laned track well-trodden by
Our racers' speedy paws.
Bets are placed, chosen by whim,
Arena opens with applause.

Poogles five prepare to race,
Three thousand metres they will pace.

Swiftest, strongest, Poogle One,
The flawless favourite.
Head raised in calm demeanour proud,
With confidence he sits.
While Poogle Two, too, races quick,
The speediest one he could well be,
Distractions slightest halt his course,
(Say, a Pirate Hat Toffee!)

Mere minutes 'til the race begins,
Whispers of who's sure to win.

Poogle Three you can't predict;
His sudden bursts of speed.
Stumbling jumps, his weakness there,
More training he still needs.
The Poogle fourth was once a star,
His fleetness cloaked by years...
Experience does dash with him,
Amassed from long career.

Blasting fanfare, roaring crowd,
Excitement perched upon the cloud.

Last, but not least, Poogle Five,
(Though some would disagree),
The chubby one has practised naught,
He may surprise? We'll see.
Spectators cheer their Poogles' names,
Booth Scorchio watches too.
A single thought trails in their minds:
The winner will be... who?

As trumpets blare a final cry,
The racers five do forward fly!

Trapper of Altador
By Anjie

An ancient city, lost no more,
Excitement builds within.
A cup each land will seek to hold,
Now let the games begin!
Behold, heroes of Altador,
They strut toward the field.
Behind a team so statuesque,
Small Poogle, near concealed.

Trapper's size a gift indeed,
It lulls the foe, you see.
Underestimation dwells,
And that is Trapper's key.
None who play against his side
Have understood the threat.
The creature moves with natural speed
And never breaks a sweat.

Defender glove clutched firm in paw,
He moves with rapid speed.
The Yooyu seems to seek his grasp,
Uncanny, it's agreed.
Some claim he hails from a stock
Of Poogle racing clan.
It might explain his lightning haste,
He runs like no-one can!

Laurel perched atop his crown,
He seeks the goal once more.
The Captain of this ancient team,
Whom crowds do much adore.
Drinking in the frenzied cheers,
So tall doth Poogle stand,
Dreaming of the golden cup,
That once did grace his land.

Malevolent and Sentient
By Fleaf

Darkest is this stormy night,
The patter of the rain.
Swirling is the briny storm,
Thunder claps, the sleeper's bane.

Nestled in a cosy room,
A cupboard rests, door ajar.
Peeping through the tiny slit,
A pair of eyes, umber.

Yellow is this plushie, round,
A smile stitched on with grace.
A set of sharp teeth that gleam,
The frame that frightful face.

A malevolent being, this Poogle,
Sentient, he crawls onto the bed,
Let the sullen sleeper beware,
It'd be best to hide his head!

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy
By Rosabellk

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
I do love you so.
Your eyes so fierce, your band so clingy,
Your teeth so apropos.

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
You are noble and pure.
If you against the wall I fling-y,
You'll come back, I'm sure.

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
You fill me with mirth.
I want to raise my voice and sing-y
'Bout your mighty worth.

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
I am in love with you.
I would propose, give you a ring-y,
For my love is true.

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
You can't be compared
With treasure of a queen or king-y
For you'd win, fair and square.

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
I'm so glad that you're mine.
All other toys seem weak and stringy
When held up to your shine.

O, Snappy Poogle Keyring Thingy,
You are the only one
That can such pleasure to me bring-y,
But now this poem's done.

Poogle: Friend or Fiend?
By Mamasimios

To all those who think Poogles dear,
A darling pet of constant cheer,
I'd entreat you to regard my fears
That they are a cunning species.

Mock innocence in a baby's eyes
Matches a faerie's divine disguise;
Island, pink, cloud - all masks and lies,
Like the plump facade of plushies.

For don't some plushies represent
Themselves as proudly malevolent?
As threateningly sentient?
Can't you heed the admonition?

Examine too the Halloween
Of horned head and teeth so keen.
Eyes of red with evil gleam,
Signal a dire disposition.

Robot, snot, and Tyrannian
Do not seem firm and faithful friends,
Nor would I trust a Darigan.
Fear I the stern visage of royals.

A Snappy Poogle Keyring Thing,
A Grinning Poogle on a String,
Even toys warn of teeth gnashing,
A pet of thoughts disloyal.

And so on the next Poogle Day,
I hope with my words you'll be swayed.
Perhaps this question you will have gleaned:
Poogles, are they friend or fiend?

A Halloween Poogle
By Jayo289

Inside a darkened icy cave,
You'll find a fearsome beast.
So enter if you're feeling brave,
And provide it with a feast.

You slip and slide your way through
This horrid little space.
Lurching over glacial dew,
Trying to keep some pace.

A growl comes forth and echoes loud,
Bouncing off the frozen floor.
Your breath forms a chilling cloud,
Hear its footfalls, two, three, four.

A snow-white figure steps out front,
Piercing with its beady eyes,
Speaking with a darkened grunt.
You stare on at his tiny size.

His sharpened fangs shine in the light,
A mischievous grin on his face.
Enough to cause you quite a fright,
But that's just not the case.

With one firm leap he's in your arms,
And a sloppy lick is on your cheek.
Full of vigour and of charm,
Now things aren't so bleak.

You laugh and smile with this new friend
You met from the dark unknown.
Instead of meeting a grisly end,
You've a Halloween Poogle of your own.

The Faerie Poogle
By Indulgences

The faerie Poogle's full of grace
And charming manners too.
It greets you with a lovely smile,
A Poogle through and through.

Its face so round and very sweet,
Its body plump and soft,
The faerie Poogle lifts its wings
And takes to flight, aloft.

Though faerie wings seem fragile, pale,
Their frailty is mistook.
Please rest assured that Poogle wings
Are stronger than they look.

The faerie Poogle soars and dips
Amongst the clouds all day.
It's such a merry, childlike pet
That always wants to play!

Malevolent Sentient Poogle
By Scarvogue

Crimson eyes light the room
and part the endless darkness.
The eerie glow holds your gaze,
and a fearsome evil lurks inside,
setting your heart ablaze.

Your racing pulse fills your ears,
breaking the silence.
Sweat gathers at your brow,
this is your only chance to run,
quick -- go NOW!

A low cackle fills the room,
echoing off the walls.
The high-pitched voice chills your bone,
sending a shiver down your spine,
and you know you're not alone.

The figure rises and approaches,
as you cower in a corner.
You make out his yellow skin,
specked with bits of orange,
and most of all: that evil grin.

He has sharp fangs that glow white,
even in this pitch-black room.
Although he is a plushie so cute,
there is a darkness in his heart,
so you'd be doomed in a pursuit.

He pulls out a bomb of ghosts,
a deadly weapon to be feared.
The Ghostkerbomb will seal your fate
and you eye the door with longing,
but you know it's much too late.

Malevolent Sentient Poogle:
a master of mischief
and the keeper of evil in cute form.
You may think he's sweet and cuddly,
but he brings with him a storm.

The Poogle Poet
By Geneames1

In Neopia's majestic woods
The Poogle poet is taking a stroll,
Enjoying the beauty of the day,
Savouring it like something rare.

Suddenly he holds his breath --
A single flower has caught his eye.
It gently dances in the warm summer wind,
Swaying softly to music only it can hear.

The Poogle poet stands transfixed,
Gazing upon the tender blossom.
He hurries home to recount the moment
He discovered this vision of Nature.

The Poogle poet takes pencil in paw,
Determined to capture the wonder on paper.
He gazes upon the pristine page,
His thoughts a whirlwind within his mind.

The syntax he uses must be precise!
The metre exacting, the rhymes all perfect.
Trying to focus, to write it all down...
But the words refuse to flow.

Finally he puts down his pencil,
The page as blank as it was at the start.
He realises at last that oft times great poetry
Doesn't end up on paper -- it remains in the heart.

Total Poetry Pages : 2416

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