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Neopets Poems

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A Note from the Poetry Judge: Here's a special Poetry Gallery in honour of Spooky Petpets (and some that are just plain creepy)! Enjoy!

Drip, Drip, Dribblet
By Anjie

One misty eve as I did amble
Where the woods grow thick and stark,
I felt a gaze did linger on me,
Something watching in the dark.
Nay, I did not dare to hasten,
Ears alert for some small sound.
Odd, I felt, no footfalls sounded,
Just a strange noise on the ground.

Cautious now I did trace backward,
Where once my steps had left a print.
No stranger's tracks in dirt I noticed,
Just a strange and sticky glint.
A trail winding seemed to follow,
Over pebbles, dirt, and stone.
Thick and shining, drenched the pathway,
The signal? I was not alone.

Another step, a sound of squelching,
"Who is there?" in fear I cried.
I could not quell the shakes and shivers,
No matter how much I had tried.
Translucent glimmer all around me,
Sticky, wet, almost did slip.
Then behind, I heard a warning,
Ominous, a drip, drip, drip.

Most hideous the creature dwelling,
Coral-toned with pallid gaze.
Manic was the grin it showed me,
Ominous through eerie haze.
Dribblet still there, I ran quickly,
Like the wind 'til I did trip.
At least now safe, I sought to rise then,
Just to hear that drip, drip, drip.

The Slorgclops's Pitiful Past
By Yoyote

One pale morn,
When light was yet unborn,
A Meowclops cried in fear.
The cry was so forlorn
That all the trees did mourn,
And still it lingers here.

That same day,
There fell another prey
Into the same strange tomb.
The Slorg could not convey
Its terrible dismay
As onward came the doom.

Slow rain slides
Along the pot's dark sides.
The evil mixture slops.
And when the steam subsides,
Upon the goo there rides
A creature called "Slorgclops."

Damp, slick, cold,
A Petpet to behold!
It blinks its single eye.
It's suffered griefs untold,
But on it lives, like mould,
Without inquiring why.

The Spyders' Work
By Tj_wagner

Setting sideways, blocking the sun,
the old Neohome groans in the autumn air.
Neopets slink by, fearful of ghosts,
which are whispered to be haunting there.

Ramshackle boards hang askew,
like crooked eyes, sad with strife.
Sagging and sighing, it looks so alone,
but inside is a rhythm of life.

Burning eyes of purest crimson
stare out from the shadowed beams.
Tiny legs tickle the boards in rhythm
Of the hardworking Spyder teams.

From shattered ceiling to splintered floor,
the Spyders' webs string like ruined lace.
Working without a word or complaint,
concentration painted on each tiny face.

A Barbet watches from a rail;
scratching into the wood with her claws.
She screeches softly, as if saying, "Good job!"
Yet, the Spyders don't even pause.

All through the night, they work,
like the moon, silent and cold.
Intricate patterns of gossamer strands,
By morning, a true sight to behold.

Yet the beauty is fragile
and won't last through the day,
but the Spyders already know this,
for it has always been the way.

The next night they will start anew,
quickly repairing and mending,
Adding new strands to their creation,
for a Spyder's work is never-ending.

By Kittengriffin

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

Pile of bones a-moving,
Night's silence a-breaking,
Sightless eyes a-peeking.

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

"Come together, vertebrae,
Reconnect, legs, let me play,
Afore night returns to day."

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

Skull rises up, a-grinning,
Spine gracefully trailing,
Limbs reattach, popping.

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

Graceful, measured movement,
Dark eyes show resentment,
Bones sing their harsh lament.

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

"Come one! Come all! Come, my race!
Come out quick! Let us find a taste,
Of some other, more palatable place!"

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

Deathless Sklydes rise far and near,
Soulless eyes bring naught but fear.
Lithe bodies slip away, disappear.

Crack-- Rattle-- Click--

The Dance of the Ghost Meepits
By Dragonstorm_75

Singing to a wordless tune,
Dancing to a stepless dance,
By the light of the glowing moon,
As if in a trance.

Shadowed figures prance 'round,
Avoiding the unwary glance,
Through the glade they do abound,
As they step and prance.

When midnight becomes quite whole,
And stars are cold and dim,
Their eyes begin to glow like coal,
As they sing their hymn.

The ghostly Meepits are now awake,
Their teal forms can be seen by all.
But to see them is a harsh mistake,
As you shall now recall...

If you enter the Meepits' circle,
Round and glowing, invitingly so,
And listen to their odd giggle,
You are now in woe!

Fatigue shall fall, like a shroud,
Eyes shall close and slumber come.
At first like the softest cloud,
And like the harp's sweet strums...

But then the nightmare takes its due,
Fear and terror strike the heart!
Only with the coming of morning dew
Will the dreams depart!

And when you awaken, lo and behold!
The ghostly Meepits disappear.
See, their power rises tenfold,
In the strokes of black midnight!

Staring Contest
By Jayo289

I sit down upon my favourite chair,
For a most delightful nap.
On the floor I place my feet with care,
And my hands onto my lap.

I close my eyes and drift away,
Until I feel a shuffle.
I recoil my feet without delay,
My floor's no longer idle.

I gasp with an almighty decibel,
For my carpet is walking.
I resist the urge to jump and yell,
Because it's only staring.

I try my best to avert my eyes,
But its gaze does attract them.
If I stare it might hypnotise,
And thus ruin this poem.

I will not lose, I promise now,
And look into its pupils.
Unblinking eyes, unmoving brow,
My staring contest trials.

But as I glare into my floor,
Which simply doesn't blink,
I grow tired; my eyes are sore,
I know I'm on the brink.

I close my eyes; out of the game,
Now I've reached my limit.
The staring contest wall of fame
Belongs to the Walking Carpet.

Deceiving Marbluk
By Imogenweasley

Near her home, Edna found a Marbluk.
The Petpet's fur was covered in spots,
She picked it up to get a closer look,
Something seemed wrong with those dots.

"Keep smiling, little Marbluk,"
She said. "Don't you worry,
I'm sure somewhere, I have a book
Where I can search for a cure in a hurry."

And so the witch tried to find one,
But an antidote was apparently unknown,
Without a recipe, she bravely begun
To try and concoct a potion on her own.

She then gave it to the Petpet to drink,
But she didn't expect what happened next --
The Marbluk started to shrink!
She stared at it, perplexed.

There is something you need to know,
So you don't make Edna's same mistake.
Was her Marbluk ill? The answer is no.
It looks diseased, but it's all fake!

A Perfect Match
By Umbreon_clone

Its skin has hair, yet is hard to the touch.
Orange with three eyes, and a stem on its head.
For a year it can sit, never moving too much.
Some can't tell if it's alive or dead.
The creature in question is a Triffin of sorts,
having bathed in a puddle of midnight's shades.
Unlike others, it's lacking in warts,
but spirit, yes sir, it has in spades.

On one day of each year, it comes to pass
that the Halloween Triffin stirs from its sleep.
They've stored their strength, and yet, alas,
but one thing keeps it from being too deep.
Stomping through town, at its deadest time,
one object would be their best treat.
Despite the pools of Meuka's sick slime,
each will search with their fleet.
Candles are the things these ghouls will seek,
scavenging as long as they can.
Without one, each Triffin grows ever more weak
while their eyes still dutifully scan.

When a rod of melting wax is seen,
the Triffin still carries on.
They're both symbols of Halloween,
sitting calmly on many a lawn.
Once the month has reached its end,
they wander back to their patch.
Among pumpkins, they really do blend,
both making a perfect match.

Cheer Up!
By Dianacat777

Oh, Ukali, why do you mourn?
Your eyes are downcast, sad.
Dainty wings droop upon dull scales
In which your frame is clad.

Your bloodshot gaze does follow me
Everywhere that I go near,
And no toy or game can ever seem
To instill in you some cheer.

I've painted you a bright yellow
And given you a friend,
But no matter how much my pet plays,
Your mood just doesn't mend.

A Petpetpet, or some good food?
A book, a shiny ring?
A soft new bed, a springy toy...
Have I tried everything?

Oh, Ukali, why do you mourn?
Your eyes are ever weepy
...really, though, can't you cheer up?
It's getting kind of creepy!

Total Poetry Pages : 1984

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