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JETSAM DAY SPECIAL
A Jetsam's Bookshelf
You can learn much about a species,
How they think about themselves,
By taking a discreet peek at the titles
Upon their Neohome's bookshelves.
As for the Jetsams you will find
Their interests are diverse,
From reference manuals and books of art
To heroic tales told in verse.
How to Model and Jetsam Style
Are for the suave and stylish,
While the book entitled simply Jetsams
Describes them ominously as "evil fish."
Books on weight-lifting and teeth maintenance
Are oft-collected tomes,
While Home Surgery for Jetsams
Is a necessity in every Neohome.
The Jovial Jetsam and Feeding Frenzy
Are amusing to the crass,
While Jetsam Art is admired
By those with taste and class.
Every Jetsam, the high and low,
Esteems the dashing Jetsam Ace,
As every Jetsam can imagine themselves
Bravely piloting his ship through space.
No matter how a species tries
To be private, circumspect,
Their hopes and dreams may be gleaned
From the titles they collect.
Jetsam jetsam jettisoned
Overboard by willing hands,
Against his will.
Jetsam flotsam, floated up
On unknown shore of empty sands,
Alive but ill.
Jetsam jetsam, wrongly blamed
For stealing food from galley store
Two nights ago.
Jetsam flotsam, found at fault
By the first mate, behind whose door
That food was stowed.
Jetsam jetsam, turned upon
By crewmates, shipmates, one-time friends
Now filled with hate.
Jetsam flotsam, lifted up,
Thrown off the wooden vessel's end,
Left to his fate.
Both jetsam and flotsam -- this pet has been each.
But only a Jetsam lies still on the beach.
In the light his teeth do glint,
Sharp and unforgiving,
Starting to regret this stint,
Will he let you continue living?
Vicious look upon his face,
Mean look in his eyes,
He could gobble you up, leaving no trace,
Fear remains undenied.
A fight with Jetsam so tough?
What would be the point?
With the seas waves rushing rough,
Terror in every muscle, joint.
Yes, it's true, we must admit,
In Neopia no other challenger can compare,
To vicious Jetsam, his eyes with hunger lit,
No other leaves us more scared.
The 'Being Smelly' Book
Friggle had a puzzle great,
A quandary left to solve.
A problem that did linger on,
So tricky to resolve.
For when the Jetsam wandered near,
All others moved away.
"Can you smell that?" he heard them hiss;
"It stinks!" he heard them say.
Poor Friggle was so sensitive,
These words such hurt did cause.
Yet when he entered any room,
The chatter all would pause.
Within a second noses would
Wrinkle rather fast.
Pets would feign a dizzy fit,
When Friggle ambled past.
"Dung pets do not exist!"
He sobbed, bright tears in Jetsam eyes.
Luck, though, was on Friggle's side,
A friend soon heard his cries.
A Peophin of magic means,
Set him to the right path.
"Being smelly not for you?
Dear Friggle, take a bath!"
The Jetsam ventured to the sea
And frolicked for a day.
When he emerged the smell was gone,
(Well, almost, I should say.)
To read the rest of Friggle's life,
You'll need to buy his book.
'Being Smelly,' Friggle's tale,
Is worth a second look!
Wishing It Were Still Jetsam Day
A vibrant, colourful blur,
A shimmering, shining shadow,
A bright and gliding mass,
They are seen in the rising shallows.
A splish here and a splash,
Sounding like a summer song,
They are living in the moment,
Nothing bothers them, all along.
They are happy and they're loud,
They're free and full of fun,
They aren't afraid to show themselves,
Out there, under the sun.
They dance and they dive,
They swim... always carefree,
Their laughter echoes as they play,
A joyful sight, they are to see.
Without a care in the world,
They embrace each new moment,
Without feeling rushed or worried,
They feel simply free, content.
With the love in their hearts,
And all the joy seen in their smiles,
With the happiness this day brings,
The day will last a while.
But when the sun goes down,
And when the day comes to an end,
When the dark sky rises,
They'll hide, won't understand.
And in the darkness they will sleep,
Dreaming the night away,
Not knowing why the world is dark,
Wishing it were still Jetsam Day.
The Cheat! Ace
Sweat trickles down your neck, too cold.
You're at the table, in your place,
But across from you smiles a certain Jetsam,
Spectre, the cheating ace.
His tux is trim, quite debonair;
Somewhat less so is his leer.
Suave as that Jetsam may be,
His visage inspires fear.
"Three eights," Agent Hog calls
And he makes his turn's play.
It's your turn next, but oh, what's this?
You haven't a seven, nine, or eight!
"One nine," you claim, although it's three
And chew your lip, albeit
Spectre looks your way, and with disdain
He boredly announces "Cheat!"
Abashed, you annex the whole pile
And watch Spectre plan out his play.
Oh no! His hand is minuscule,
Today's probably his day.
"Two twos," he places down his final cards.
"Cheat!" you last-ditch call.
He grins, sharklike, and shows the cards
And once more, he wins it all.
"Reshar Collifey" chant the fans,
as Yooyuball Champions wave to the stands.
"Darigan, Darigan, take the cup,
grab the trophy, hold it up."
Their faithful goalkeeper let in not one,
take then now a victory run.
Mungo Lifler was replaced,
but this Darigan Jetsam was no disgrace.
Rapid hands and energy
led Darigans to their victory.
Inexperience hindered none,
the MVP award was won.
Runner-up for all rest,
of yearly rookies you are the best.
Defend our goals for years to come,
block thousands of shots, and then still some.
So as we cheer on Jetsam Day,
let Reshar Collifey have his say.
The Electric Jetsam
The clouds streak with light,
All throughout the night,
Screams of thunder there,
Are heard from everywhere.
While others do hide in fear,
Only one begins to cheer.
The lightning that does flash,
He wears much like a sash.
The electric Jetsam chuckles,
Like a king unto his vassals,
And plunges through the storm,
As if it turned into a watery form.
Brilliant blue is his skin,
And emblazoned upon his fin,
Are two bolts of lightning,
Brightly are they glowing!
The rolling thunder is his joy,
And fearsome lightning is his toy,
The Jetsam, fearless and brave,
Welcomes the incoming rainy wave.
Through turmoil'd clouds,
And rain that enshrouds,
The electric Jetsam runs free,
Like a ghost, so eerily.
And so beware the flashing fangs,
That are the forks of lightning.
And beware the hungry pangs,
Of his gleaming yellow eyes...
A Jetsam's Plea for Petpet Rights
Today, in Neopia, is Jetsam Day,
Any Jetsam should be proud.
For when we arrive in Create-a-Pet,
There surely is a crowd.
But there is a minor issue,
That I must now address,
Aimed toward Avatar Collectors
And over the avatars they obsess.
If you do not know,
There's an avatar to get
By feeding your darling Jetsam
Any Aquatic Petpet.
As a Jetsam I should be happy,
With any tasty snack.
But I can't when it's my Petpet,
That's the target of my attack.
Of course, I don't get much choice,
But to open my mouth wide
And get my owner the avatar
When the Petpet swims inside.
And though Catamaras are tasty
When paired with Azzle sauce,
And Baby Blus are healthy snacks
When placed in salads, lightly tossed,
As Jetsams we must remember,
(Though they may taste good...)
That even if the avatar is pretty,
Petpets are friends -- not food.
Under the Hunter's Guise
A glist'ning maw in widened grin,
With fiery eyes of red.
In churning ocean Jetsam swims,
In pools where none dare tread.
This creature of the boiling sea,
Fearless and proud he hunts,
All the ocean flees his jaws,
No prey do dare confront.
And in a rush of seafoam,
He rises with a splash.
And gleaming 'neath the beating sun,
His vermilion scales flash.
A fearsome creature of the sea,
The Jetsam makes his prowl.
Eyes flitting here and thither,
Teeth gnashing in his jowl.
And yet though most do see him,
As only fiend to fear.
Follow the trail of seafoam,
See 'neath his face austere.
For down the churning waters,
And past the ocean's roar,
There is a place the water laps,
A sweet and silent shore.
There, among the sand and rocks,
The Jetsam nestles close
And shares his feast with dearest friend,
In gentle, kind repose.
This beast that haunts the crying sea,
A creature feared most dire.
Though quick and dreaded is without
True malice or mire.
As he roams the ocean depths,
Clouds o' sand in his wake.
Should you garner his respect,
A loyal friend you'll make.
A smile bright and gleeful,
With eyes of gleaming pride,
The Jetsam roams the ocean,
With more than meets the eye.
Total Poetry Pages : 1960
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