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Lutari at the Helm
They sail away toward the sun,
from lands they call home,
from Shenkuu's ancient horizon,
to Altador's library of tomes.
As their gallant ship departs these shores,
one wise Gnorbu stands
with hope clutched close to his heart,
bids farewell, courage carried with his right hand.
The tang of the sea, the briny deep
roars magnificently against the prow,
the knowledge seekers' journey
met quickly with the ocean's howls.
Wind-battered storm, a furious tempest,
the Neopian waters wage a war
with nature, the age-old warrior,
to reach her farthest edge.
No fear, says he, the courageous heart,
the adventurer and worldly soul,
true to his kind, loyal, and smart,
he is the Lutari.
He and his friends endured,
exhausted by the anger of the waves,
but as the lightning shrieked its last,
reprieve revealed its face.
Impressed by their determination,
the Water Faerie shone,
bright azure from the deep,
calmed the seas with melodious tones.
And once again they sailed,
imbued in heart and mind,
one mission they must achieve
to gain the wisdom divined.
To distant places they trekked
further, farther to the uncharted,
past waters of Maraqua, of islands Krawk
and Mystery, to new fantastic wonders,
exciting, strange and free.
Says Clara, pupil of philosophy,
"There are dangers unknown out there!"
And again the Lutari replies,
"No fear! there will be no
visit to the Monster's Lair!"
Past Tyrannia they circle the globe,
Neopia's countries, discovered and known.
But their perseverance paid,
after long drenched days,
the oceans' expansive vista
surpassed by this crusade,
and on foreign shores they step
The Lutari with gleaming eyes
gazes at wondrous marvels, vibrant
and in joyous outcries,
they ventured forward in this realm,
on a quest, with
the Lutari at the helm.
Around the Haunted Woods
Wind is dancing o'er the woods,
This eerie hallowed eve.
Chilling ghosts? I see none;
Mere stories, I believe.
They're naught but tales for those
Who seek their sugared goods.
To prove my point this Halloween,
I set out to the Woods.
Deserted Fairground's where I start,
Beneath the pallid moon.
Quiet steps toward the gate,
With stalls this place is strewn.
Silent, empty, fairgrounds old,
A path reveals the way.
Baleful Wheel so slowly spins,
Daring me to play.
Bagatelle and Coconut Shy,
Look harmless as can be.
Spooky Food gives me a scare,
Gross foods in rows of three.
I glimpse the Carnival of Terror,
The Haunted Weapons mart.
Sharpened daggers, glinting scythes...
I run with pounding heart.
In the darkest Haunted Woods,
My pace is slow and stiff.
Eliv's Castle looms ahead,
Breath in frosty whiffs.
Brain Tree booming after me,
"Kneel before the Tree!"
Esophagor, from underground,
Frightened squeal from me.
Humble Spooky Petpets stall,
My journey's well and done.
Angry Meepit jumps at me,
Quite simply: I run.
I curl up, trembling, 'neath the bed,
I dare not move from there.
Be wary of the Woods tonight,
You've been warned... Beware!
Atlas of the Ancients: A Journey Begins
Where rolling mists and mountain peaks
Create a sacred land,
A Gnorbu, ancient, frown in place,
In silence doth he stand.
Book held firm in wrinkled paw,
Gaze fixed upon the breeze.
Seeking signs in how it moves,
As it drifts through the trees.
"Something strange is in the air,"
The murmur soft we hear.
"Something big soon will occur,
I know not what, I fear."
A dainty Wocky at his side
Doth give indulgent grin,
Aware adventure looms ahead,
And soon it shall begin.
Where island beats are thick and loud,
And humid is the air,
A hammock drifts between two boughs,
We find good Roxton there.
With little Jordie by his side,
He soon shall heed the call.
(It is brave Roxton who did find,
An isle once, recall?)
Thus the three will sail the seas
And solve what lies ahead.
Will it be riches? Distant lands?
Or beasts we'll learn to dread?
Be brave, my dear Neopians!
It's time to play, don't hide.
A mystery waits just to be solved,
Strap in, enjoy the ride!
Don't Trick or Treat Jhudora
On the outer edge of Faerieland,
There hangs a putrid, purple cloud.
Ugly as the one who calls it home,
(Although none dare say this aloud).
Jhudora keeps her friendships few,
Performing her works in solitary.
Brave questers, who some call fools,
Alone dare trouble this dark faerie.
Except, on one night of every year,
Creep up the sound of careful feet,
A hushed pause, a knock, and then,
Young voices raise in, "Trick or treat!"
Why they disturb her, who can say,
Surely they must expect the trick.
A wand wave, and they're all Mortogs,
Or given candy to make them sick.
Perhaps they've heard the rumours too,
And guess at just what strange delight
Could be conjured up through magic arts
To give out on this celebration night.
And what is found by creatures bold,
Who take the risk and make the dare?
A lone bag of candy waits outside.
It's Jhudora's Cloud, but she's not there.
So if you're tempted by those same tales,
Stay safe at home, and don't be swayed.
The dark faerie won't be waiting up for you,
She's off playing tricks at Illusen's Glade.
Atlas of the Ancients -- Chapter 1
In a land of ancient beauty,
Two children hurry home.
Tales of fire-breathing entities,
Tales their parents told.
A wise old Gnorbu watches
And returns to his workplace.
A tome he seeks of legend,
His apprentice finds with haste.
An adventure unfolds at this point,
In the mountain-based Shenkuu.
Adventurer Roxton A. Colchester
"The Third," and assistant too,
Come from their sunny holiday
After news from the old Gnorbu.
Young Clara Chatham the apprentice
Accompanies Roxton to his dismay.
Not afraid of danger,
Not one to shy away.
The Atlas of the Ancients,
Where many mysteries await.
Neopia is in peril!
Join in the mission today.
Total Poetry Pages : 1916
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