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SLORG DAY SPECIAL
I Lost My Plushie Slorg
I've had a Petpet here and there,
They never seem to last.
They're too whiny, too odd, too gross,
Or run away too fast.
I needed something really cute,
Without a hefty fee.
And that, my friends, is rather how,
My Slorg friend came to me.
Countless days did plushie Slorg
And I have a good time.
He was a Petpet AND a friend,
(If one ignored the slime.)
Each morning when I did awake,
He would be by the bed.
Hopping in his Slorgish way,
Demanding to be fed.
Alas, my friends, it did occur,
That on one fateful day.
I couldn't find my little friend,
Had Slorgy run away?
I searched the Neohome in tears
And loudly called his name.
But no Slorg squeaks did answer me,
My Petpet never came.
Distraught I sat down on the bed,
Then noticed something strange.
My top drawer did seem just ajar,
Not closed, this was a change!
I opened it and gave a grin,
I'd had my share of shocks.
For curled up there was my Slorg friend,
Asleep amongst the socks.
A Menace of the Night
A sound echoes in dead of night,
Sable cape rustles on cool stone.
Midnight menace slithers from the shade,
Visage chilling to the bone.
Crimson is his vivid hue,
As red as freshest blood.
Slime drips from his winding form,
An oozing trail of mud.
The wind howls; he slinks ever forth;
His bulbous eyes glow bright.
You freeze; oh no, you're cornered now
By this terror of the night.
A dripping maw parts, revealing fangs,
A sharp, bright pair, to your dismay.
"Brrfflptt murrrr chrrrrpp chrrrrp," it gurgles
("Hope you have a happy Slorg Day!")
Slow, Slorg, Slow
Though fast run the rest,
Slorgs are the best.
Slither yonder, friend,
Slug around to no end.
You may be a model to me
And the rest of the world shall see,
How the rowers row in a row,
And the Slorg slithers slow,
And patience to everyone you'll show
Slow, Slorg, slow.
The day is here and Neopia shall see
How wonderful a Slorg can be.
On Slorg Day, Slorgs unite
In all your Slorgish, Slorgy might
To show something to everyone --
That with patience, a race can be won.
And maybe we will stop a moment,
Maybe, just for once, we'll hold it,
And we'll say from tail to paw to toe,
"Slow, Slorg, slow."
If you don't believe a little-told tale
Of a Slorg who ran fast and on the sea set sail,
He drowned in the salty depths of blue,
All because he was too fast for you.
If this can't Neopia convince,
That from generation, a moral passed ever since,
Then I feel sorry for the little child
Who never heard of Slorgs in the wild.
So before you pick up you needle and sew,
Slow, Slorg, slow.
The Slorg and the Salt Shaker
And there did sit the salty shaker,
White as fresh-felled snow.
And by my hand, a silly blooper,
Off the table the salt did flow.
A Slorg sat there, happy too,
When the torrent fell.
Oh, why this is very new,
The Slorg began to swell!
My goodness, what had happened?
His body now was shrivelled,
His eyes were now quite widened.
My, did he seem troubled!
The slime that trailed was sticky,
And tinged a sickly green.
Our poor little Slorg was quite icky,
And for one seemed very lean.
So what caused this mutation?
To make the Slorg so strange?
Was it a paint brush or a potion,
To plan this awful change?
Nay, good friends, not either,
Was the culprit of this crime.
It was our trusty, salty shaker,
The essence of this rhyme.
So now readers beware
To have your Slorg nearby!
Before the salt shaker's glare,
That holds a full supply.
Unless you want a mutant Slorg,
Then take this poem with a grain of salt.
A Most Wonderful Day
Her round wobbling belly,
Like a big bowl of jelly,
Jiggles side to side as she laughs.
Randomly placed khaki spots,
On her skin, lots and lots,
Shine brightly under the sun.
Her big round bright eyes,
They blink, fending off flies,
As she slides along.
No arms and no legs,
Her body shaped like eggs,
She had to hurry to make it in time.
A gummy grin she bears,
On her head free of hairs,
As she looks at the other Slorgs here.
Celebrations already underway,
On this most special day,
To celebrate the species of Slorg.
She dances across the room,
In her favourite party costume,
Smiling at Slorg friends as she goes.
The day turns into a blast,
She wishes it hadn't gone so fast,
For next year's Slorg Day seems too far away.
Going back to her owner,
This Slorg doesn't feel like a loner,
As she's had a most wonderful day.
Honestly, who wants a Slorg?
Would you happy if you got one
For the Day of Giving?
Or would you give the cute Petpet a shun?
Slimy, goopy, and wonderful,
They're sweet as Faerieland food,
Gorgeous and nice,
Even if they leave your homework glued.
"A Slorg?" you say in disgust.
"Why would I want a Slorg?
They're gross little things!
Can't we just feed it to Florg?"
"No!" someone will cry.
"It has feelings, too,
Why are you better than him?
He doesn't deserve to be smushed
Under your shoe!"
I want a Slorg!
I want a Petpet!
I want a cutie!
I want whatever I can get!
Please, please, look at him twice,
Please, please, look at him thrice,
Please, please, don't leave him here!
Please, please, don't leave and jeer!
The little Slorg will find a home,
Of that I'm sure,
Some lover of all things gloopy,
No, this Petpet's never a bore!
Slorgs: The Ideal Petpet!
Neopets these days all have Petpets --
Fluffy and cute, Harris and Flouds.
But the ideal Petpet is a Slorg --
First off, they aren't very loud.
Slorgs are very cheerful fellows,
Is your Neopet feeling blue?
Give her a Slorg, and soon enough,
She'll be happy too!
They're very well-behaved,
Listening to their owner.
The longer you have them,
Of you they'll get fonder.
Friendly fellows, those Slorgs be,
Is there 'nother Petpet at home?
After meeting, you'll surely see,
Slorgs make friends where'er they roam.
So don't think of Babycas,
Screaming Kadoaties? No way!
If you're looking for the ideal Petpet,
Buy a Slorg, I say!
The Slorg Festival
Trails of slime cover
The path that they are sliding,
Watch out for the Slorgs!
Their slime is strange,
Gooey, sticky, slippery,
Gloop! Gloop! Sch-lurp! Squish!
Or in groups it matters not,
Slorgs are going!
Where are they going
On this third day of Storing?
To the festival!
The Slorg Festival!
It's the time to celebrate,
So all Slorgs gather.
They travel for miles,
But they sadly move slowly,
They must start early.
But they do not mind,
The festival is the best,
It comes once a year!
Donning party hats,
And dancing to the music,
The Slorgs are cheering!
"Today is the day,
That Neopia comes to
Celebrate the Slorgs!"
Most Slorgs are creatures of the soil,
Leaving slime trails as they pass,
But some Slorgs forsake earthly toil
To seek clouds over grass.
The faerie Slorg is of rosy shade
With wings glimmering in the light,
Soaring high 'til the light of the sun does fade,
Giving way to the dark of night.
Where you'd least expect it, magic is found
And the lowliest learn to soar high.
Their fellows may be satisfied with the ground,
But the Faerie Slorg adores the sky.
Slorg and the Delicate Balance
The Slorg is a quite noble creature,
And so the following will feature
The pros and cons of this species
Of Petpets grand, if you please.
Hard to lose, these cute fellows,
Though this has caused a few mad bellows,
The Slorg will mark the path it takes
With a trail of slime, there in its wake.
The Slorg, though, can cause a fright;
Have no guests over for this night,
For Slorgs can make an awful mess.
They swim in icky slime, no less!
As it is, they're rather cute.
I have a Slorg, he's quite a beaut!
With great big eyes, and bigger smiles,
They'll keep love going on for miles.
You can pet a Doglefox, true.
You can go and stroke a Puppyblew,
But I fear with Slorgs, that's not too smart
For gish and smurch, your hands art.
So the choice is yours (but I vote Slorg)
To be the Petpet all adored,
So wish me well, I'm off to buy,
All the Slorgs that I can spy.
Attack of the Slorgs
The veg are in the garden,
the fruit are in the trees.
A farmer tends his crops,
feeling the pleasant breeze.
But he hears a faint scrape
and a gloopy-sounding glorg.
He turns to face the horror:
an army of advancing Slorgs!
They wend and wind through dirt,
toward the fruit so sweet
and the hearty delicious veg --
they really just want to eat!
He fires up his Slorgeriser --
it's X4 to be exact --
And waits with bated breath
as the Slorgs begin to attack!
Slorg-B-Gone in rainbow colours,
he hopes his aim is true,
but he fires at the wrong spot
and one Slorg becomes two!
He starts to sweat profusely;
his veins pump adrenaline,
but the Slorgs they keep on coming --
he can't let them win!
A red ball of Slorg-B-Gone
hits a group of three.
They all disappear,
the farmer shouts with glee!
The Slorgs, they don't mean harm.
They're just really famished,
but the farmer wants his crop,
so the Slorgs must be banished!
He begins to tire,
but the Slorgs keep marching on.
He wishes they would go away;
he just wants them to be gone.
No matter how many are gone,
still the battle rages.
Yurble versus Slorg,
the battle of the ages.
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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