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BOROVAN DAY SPECIAL
Beloved Borovan Brownies!
Made every day at the Food Shop,
Fresh and warm, spongy in texture.
With whipped cream by the dollop,
Many eyes do they capture!
Their smell is most irresistible,
As it wafts right through the room.
Even though they are small and humble,
The scent comes in a vast plume.
Formed from Borovan most fresh,
Still quite warm from the machine.
In the winter their sight does refresh,
Like the same drink right from the bean.
The famous Borovan brownies,
So delectable and delightful.
Sweeter than the smallest candies,
That release a feeling beyond blissful.
Every bite is filled with Borovan goodness,
No wonder they cannot be refused.
The sprinkling of sugar is a tasty bonus,
Their eating is quickly enthused.
So when you come over on Borovan Day,
Feel free to bring some brownies as well.
Not only will you receive a great hurray,
You will be beloved, this I foretell!
You Can Keep Your Borovan
I go to Terror Mountain
For I love to ski and skate,
But there is one pleasure of the slopes
Of which I will not partake.
Why do those caring citizens
Think that I should be warmed up
By pouring foul Borovan
Into my waiting cup?
Now, even I must admit
That the brew is piping hot,
But force it past my curling lips?
I think I'd rather not!
I suppose that if I were quite chilled,
I'd hold the cup within my hands,
But mere moments in the fetid steam
Is more than my nose can stand.
And do not think that you can mask
Its malodour with added flavours --
No cranberry, apple, orange, or mint
Could cause my disgust to waver.
Yes, you can keep your Borovan
In your cakes and crepes as well.
They might indeed be delicious,
But I just can't get past the smell.
I should like to avoid Borovan,
And the places where it's sold,
Though one day I just might try a cup
If my nose is stuffy from a cold.
Borovan for Breakfast
One morning as I stretched and woke,
A thought did cross my mind.
If I rushed down to kitchen small,
What would I hope to find?
The perfect snack for early morn,
When outside was soft white.
The memory of the fallen flakes,
That drifted down that night.
Super Spicy Borovan!
Would be my breakfast treat.
Warm and filling, super smooth,
A boost and rather sweet.
Creamy with a hint of herb,
A touch, a pinch of spice.
On mornings when the world is cold,
No drink could be so nice.
Warmed by thoughts of spicy treat,
I traipsed down, half-asleep.
Stumbling as I sought to wake,
Traversing stairs so steep.
I'm sad to say my hope did fade,
As I searched here and there.
For though I sought warm Borovan,
Alas! The cupboard? Bare!
One day in icy wonder,
When outside the sky was grey,
The Catacombs snowed in,
The Storytelling fire dim;
I sat inside the Coffee Shop,
My paper on my knees.
My pen had frozen,
The ink ran sluggish cold;
Illegible scribbles crossed the page,
A ruined attempt at stories great.
I cast a glance upon my table,
A slick surface, wooden,
And in the centre, at rest,
Stood a lovely, lovely sight.
A cup of Borovan, piping hot,
All lusciously thick, brown, and warm,
With steam rising, and marshmallow puffs,
Floating serenely on the top.
I could smell the heavenly scent,
That hot, hot Borovan,
To warm my chilled toes,
My insides cold as ice.
I reached out in haste,
And promised just a taste,
Before I'd return to greater matters,
But first, a sip of Borovan.
But alas as I lifted it,
And raised it to chilled lips;
That hot, hot Borovan,
Indeed it was completely not:
My steamy, sweetly toasty Borovan,
It had long gone cold.
With 365.25 recipes,
You'd think my Borovan wishes
Would be easy to please.
Brownies! Ice Cream! Crepes and more!
So much Borovan, you'd think
My tummy couldn't store any more.
Who knows what Borovan is, per se,
'Cause it can also go into cement and molten rods.
Just two more ways for Borovan to play.
The best way to enjoy it, clearly,
Is to make a hot cup with a Borovan press.
No better Borovan than Borovan made sincerely.
Curl up on a couch in front of a fire,
With flavours like spicy, sprout, orange, vanilla,
Borovan will quench every chilly day desire.
And so, this winter, I melt with reason,
I read "A Summer of Borovan" and wonder
Why every season isn't Borovan season.
On winter days I always try
To remember days gone by;
Oh, in those days, how time did fly
As I sat and drank my Borovan.
As I lie awake at night
I look back on favourite sights
And though I know it must sound trite,
I always think of Borovan.
When snow lies soft on window sill,
When moon is bright, and all is still,
When heart is made frost by wind's cold chill,
I sit and drink some Borovan.
And though those days are long since gone,
And it seems like years since sun last shone,
I always try to focus on
The joy of drinking Borovan.
Ode to Borovan
I think that I shall never forget
My first steaming cup of Borovan.
When it slipped down my throat all hot and wet,
I'll tell you -- I was an instant fan.
Flavoured with apple, flavoured with mint,
I simply cannot get enough.
Borovan ice cream with a vanilla hint --
I simply love the stuff!
You can have your Weevil Coffee,
I'll wear my Borovan Badge with pride.
It inspires me to poetry,
For Borovan love cannot be denied!
An Icy Sonnet to Borovan Day
Drifting gracefully down from the clouds or
Carried roughly by brisk winds of winter,
Snow blanketing Terror Mountain before
Now has captured Neopia's wonder.
All Neopets love to gather around
The warm hearth with flames crackling.
Blankets wrapping them in a snug mound,
From cups of Borovan they are sipping.
This hot, flavourful drink is their delight,
Thawing them out down to their frozen toes.
It is the best for any winter night,
And one may be lulled to a pleasant doze.
But some spite is caused by Borovan Day.
"We want to try!" the snow and ice pets say.
Relax With a Cup of Borovan!
Home at last, in the afternoon,
After being bullied at school.
But a cup of Borovan will make my day,
Keeping me warm and full!
A variety of flavours that I can choose,
Orange, mint, and cranberry.
A refreshing ice cream scoop as well,
To make my heart so merry!
Is it a hot summer's day?
Iced Borovan will cool you fast.
Some Borovan Brownies as an aside,
If only they would last!
Have a scrumptious Borovan Cookie!
A Borovan Pavlova, too.
A Borovan Press to use at home,
To make Borovan dreams come true!
Settle down, now, just relax,
With a cup of Borovan nearby,
For Borovan always calms me down,
So why don't you give it a try?
This Cup of Borovan
Snowy flakes fall from high up,
To settle softly in your cup,
Melting in the hot rich brew,
Cream dots looking up at you.
Silver strands of steam are singing,
From the point your breath is ringing,
Fast against the icy chill of winter,
Lest the porcelain vessel splinter,
Breathe the wintry roasted scent,
To the bottom where it went,
Taste the bitter sweetened flavour,
Sip and stop and slowly savour,
Feel the warmth against your fingers,
In your mouth the essence lingers,
Dark and hot and silky smooth,
All your cares to softly soothe,
The Night of the Borovan Ball
The night of the Borovan Ball
Was beautiful to enjoy for all;
Borovan Cake here and there --
Borovan Cookies can be found everywhere!
This night was a feast for all --
Short or tall, even some quite small.
A Borovan fountain can be found at the centre;
You can even smell it before you enter!
The cooks in the kitchen prepare with haste,
Since everyone wants a taste
Of the glorious Borovan Ice Cream
That can make anyone want to scream!
Neopets go all around,
Looking for what can be found,
Like Borovan Brownies scattered about.
You can really hear them shout:
"I found one!" they always say,
At the Borovan Ball that was held today!
Before everyone leaves they get a basket of treats,
So they will have something to eat on the streets.
Packed with Borovan desserts to adore
What are you waiting for?
Total Poetry Pages : 2009
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