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Where the Fog Rolls
Eerie, grey fog rolls through the dark, quiet town
Past Prigpants and Swolthy, sewing a gown,
Down past the water and 'round the clock-tower,
To the old Crumpetmonger, who bakes by the hour.
The Printing Press buzzes with gossip that's good,
The loyal machines working just as they should.
Chesterdrawers hammers together a piece
Of beautiful furniture, his sales never cease.
The fog curls past the ashes laying next to the street,
The ashes of a home, once lovely and neat
And filled with a family who eventually strayed
Too far from each other, a mistake was made.
Up the fog travels, travels away,
Abandons Main Street and in the sky plays,
Twists past the Gypsy Camp where fires do blink,
Slowly curves down as if drained by a sink.
Bathes Haunted Woods in an ominous grey,
Floats through the trees, sets the mood of the day.
Brushes past the Carnival, filled with many a game,
Rigged, every one of them, it's always the same.
The fog gazes upon a manic haunted by dreams,
To passersby he shouts of his troubles and schemes.
A Werelupe, no doubt, who inhabits the woods
Hides when he changes and knows of no good.
Finally fog settles, wraps 'round a tree
Brittle and broken, whose leaves are now free.
Observes the dark, dreary land it knows well
And listens to the chime of the clock-tower bell.
Slinking in shadows, the sable-furred sprite,
She slips up the stairwell, so shifty at night.
Suspicious and slit-eyed, she steps to the door,
So sneaky and swift, flowing right 'cross the floor!
Harboring hatred for who-knows-what ills,
Hopping to heights without taking a spill.
Her hands find the object; without hesitation
Hits the ground running, her aim agitation.
A villain, a terror, a thief, and a crook,
An aggressive anomaly armed with a look.
Angry eyes glare, if you catch her in the act;
Animosity is her most feared attack!
Dastardly deeds done by Usul in black,
Dashing from crime to crime, never looks back.
Dancing in moonlight, so devil-may-cry,
Don't try to stop her! She'll give you the eye!
Older folks tell the story of Toby's Marsh,
One silly Gelert whose fate was far too harsh.
One night that Usul, arms loaded with loot,
Ordered the Gelert to cease his pursuit.
Wicked eyes glinted, she watched him grow wary;
She whipped up a hurricane! 'Twas quite scary!
Wherever she sent him -- poor Toby, that was --
We never again followed her shadow paws!
Usul she is, though she doesn't act like one,
Usually they are friendly and fun...
Under that umbra of wicked and mean
Undulates unhappy, still to be seen.
Vanity, Malice, and Spite
A realm in chaos, doomed to fall,
One soul bent on revenge.
She seeks to take back ages lost,
A wrong she must avenge.
Should the Darkest Faerie rise,
Shadow will drape the land.
Neopia, a hero seeks,
The hour is at hand.
Three creatures, tainted, poison hearts,
Do stand as horrid threat.
Three sisters, vile, dark, and cruel,
The dark one will abet.
One obsessed with mirror's sheen,
And one possessed by hate.
The third consumed with thoughts of greed
That will not yet abate.
They seek to shroud all that is good,
Lay wreck to all that's right.
Three demons cast in faerie form,
Malice, Vanity, Spite.
Malice dwells in darkest realm,
Consumed with hate and rage.
A temper that threatens to snap,
A bitter war, she'll wage.
Vanity, oh self-obsessed,
The mirror holds the key.
None as vapid, vile, and vain,
Or shallow, dark, as she.
Spite, the third of sisters three,
Seeks to hold the throne.
Meridell within her reach,
Her heart formed out of stone.
Will these beasts soon come to rule?
Will someone save the day?
Shall the faeries defeat all,
Lay ruin on the way?
Neopia a hero seeks,
Who'll stand alone and fight.
Three wicked faeries to defeat,
Malice, Vanity, Spite.
Revealed by the sacred Gaze,
It once was hidden in a haze.
Imperial City at its best,
In the mountains of the west.
Fog surrounds the city gate;
Hiding wonders that await.
Imperial City, laced in gold;
All its glory, lies untold.
Buildings of unique design;
Cuisine that is simply divine.
Generosity that is unsurpassed,
Protect the city; guard its past.
Shenkuu stretches far and wide,
Consumed by its unearthly pride.
In the north, the Gnorbu sits.
"You cannot match my many wits."
And Bonju? Oh, he is the worst.
In the Cooking Pot, he was immersed.
Shenkuu, the Imperial City.
Cruel and sharp. But oh so pretty.
The Court Dancer
Dainty feet grace the floors,
As she dances to and fro.
Skirt flutters like Uni's wings,
Slowly the music flows.
Round and round she spins,
Twirling in perfect time.
Stepping deep with every note,
And keeping stride with the rhyme.
Musical instrument in hand,
The tempo increases with speed.
Matching the vibrating sound,
As the Court Dancer takes the lead.
Spiralling to escape it all,
Dancing for her soul.
Prancing here and there,
Her passion taking its toll.
Her world forever spinning,
The music continues to play.
With every step she takes,
Her heart just drifts away.
Total Poetry Pages : 1961
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