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A gentle breeze stirs chilly air,
Happy Valley's sun shines bright.
The judges gather by the pond
To perform their yearly rite.
Almost ready to begin is none else
Than the Annual Skating competition (Y8),
A traditional art of these frosty lands
And quite well worth the wait.
Forward steps a young blue Bruce;
The crowd falls into hush.
Notes flicker in the air to catch
And dance begins at once.
A black note here, a blue note there;
He deftly avoids a flat
And spins to catch a note turning red,
But then it's gone; that's that.
Flustered, he runs into a sharp --
Everything's going all wrong!
It seems almost as if nothing's gained
From a year of practice long.
Focus, he cries to his sliding feet
And stares at the final note.
It hovers but a few feet away
With a yellow-orangish glow.
A step, a skate, a desperate slide --
At the fading note, he rushes.
Far too late, he realises where he stopped,
And freed pondwater gushes.
He flounders free, his routine done.
Drenched and cold, embarrassed too,
Drearily gazes at the judges' scores;
Wait. Ten out of ten? That's new!
Meepits sing, are you listening,
I can hear them from the kitchen.
They spread Christmas cheer,
It's that time of year,
Listen to the Meepit Carolers!
Every time that I see them,
I just want to sing with them.
They are kind of cute,
Don't give them the boot!
Listen to the Meepit Carolers.
On the porch during Winter Wonderfest,
They all sing when you open the door.
They'll sing songs of the season
Through this happy, joyous
Month of Celebrating.
Won't you let them inside?
Don't just cower and hide!
They really don't bite,
They don't want to fight,
They're just the Meepit Carolers!
Okay, so there was that biscuit Ixi,
He looked just like a huge cookie,
So the Meepits Carolers tried to eat him,
But it was not intentional!
So be nice to the Meepits!
If you don't, you'll regret it!
Visit the Winter Wonderfest now
And listen to the Meepit Carolers!
You skip along the icy path,
Having just avoided Snowager's wrath.
So happy and blissfully unaware,
Of a figure waiting to cause despair.
While wandering through this joyous place,
You come across a delightful face.
A baby Bruce, just smiling bright,
One glance is enough to excite.
His plump round face stares up with glee,
Impossible for you to be angry.
His eyes, they glimmer, so sincere,
This moment you'll forever hold so dear.
His red bow flaps in the breeze,
His countenance puts you at ease.
But as you see something shine behind,
You wonder if he's deceived your mind.
Without a chance to jump out of the fray,
You feel the blast of a sinister ray.
You cry and cry for your mummy,
For you've been tricked by baby Boochi.
Atlas of the Ancients - Chapters 10-12
"Wow, this is amazing.
Who would've thought?
A whole underground city
Just waiting to be explored!"
Clara and co. skid to find the leader
Of this steampunk-themed underground land.
They come across a young engineer
Who takes them to the mayor in command.
"A team of scientists, engineers, and mystics
Went on an expedition to find the problem, fix it,"
The mayor explained as they walked,
Saying how the problem was Neopia's core.
The more the company talked,
The problem is apparent from this tour.
The stabilising unit is falling into disarray,
Causing Neopia's climate grief and dismay.
The components the crew had collected
Were gathered and put to quick use.
At that moment the core erupted,
Wrongly, Roxton spoke soon.
Cog, the engineer, knows how to fix it,
But they will need to get past lots of lava.
Roxton gains some steam-powered wings,
So they fly together through this palaver.
As the core unstabilises they hurry on,
To find another lost civilisation in a cavern beyond.
Roxton and Cog fly through the caves,
Over the bubbling lava stream.
A nasty growl can be heard,
A lava monster can be seen.
Roxton gets fed up and rams a stalactite,
The monster recoils and retreats.
The Lutari thinks that they will be welcome,
Too soon, once again, he speaks.
"We're looking for someone who can help us,"
Roxton asks rather desperately.
The magma Grarrl is pedantic,
But the magma Gnorbu corrects him politely.
They had been expecting him to come
From the world outside.
The Gnorbu knew just what to do
And they rode a lava creature out in time.
Reunited with the Chomby mayor,
There was no time to smite.
Magma pets channelled into a vertical stream
As the Moltarans pulled at a rickety pipe.
The goal is to fix the unstable core,
Straining with the ropes with might,
To never have this problem anymore.
With all the parts in place and the machine ready,
Cog goes to test the core stabiliser again.
You would not believe the relief they felt
Knowing that Neopia's safe from these events.
There come the yells of a celebratory "hooray!"
And many festivities were had in Moltara.
The Moltarans were grateful to this day,
To Roxton, Jordie, and Clara.
The magma folk and the Moltarans unite
After a long time of prejudice.
The mayor wanted the company to be thanked,
But Roxton could resist.
Jordie, on the other hand,
Had thought of one small favour.
As they returned to Shenkuu to tell of the land
Of Moltara and their good behaviour.
The old Gnorbu was satisfied the mystery was over,
He looks out of the window to see
Young Jordie on a creature.
Two young children from the start of the adventure
Ran over to marvel at Jordie's souvenir.
That was one interesting warm venture
And now there's nothing left to fear.
Frozen clouds encase the breath,
where high atop iced mountain peaks,
Wrapped in furs and solitude,
the faerie of the snow land sleeps.
Eyes of clear aquamarine,
While fair white skin in lamplight gleams,
She takes your hand, bringing you home,
when lost amidst the winter storm.
What new magic does she seek,
When at the slightest of a glance,
She'd ask a guest to take the quest
of treasure-hunting for her task?
None who know her story told,
could tell you should you inquire,
Why did she choose such harsh terrain
when she could live her own kind?
A mystery wrapped in fur-lined hood,
Rewards those who return her call.
The lady of Terror's cold peaks,
The faeries call her Taelia.
Total Poetry Pages : 2009
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