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DAY OF GIVING SPECIAL
Don't Forget Your Wreathy
You bought him in the market,
You let him play out in the hall,
A cheery, festive little Petpet,
To welcome anyone who calls.
A ring of rich green leaves,
Topped off with a bright red bow,
Perfect for the holiday season,
Though this can be a source of woe.
Wreathies aren't just for celebrations,
After this month they don't go away,
Bring a Wreathy into your home,
And all year round it wants to stay.
Wreathies get forgotten about,
When summer comes back around,
Just because it's no longer seasonal --
Please don't forget this friend you found.
Wreathies won't only love you,
When you're home, warm and snug,
Even when the weather's sunny outside,
You'll find they still want a hug.
So please don't forget your Wreathy,
Now the festive season's almost done.
It's not just a seasonal Petpet,
But a whole year's worth of fun.
Dawn of the Day of Giving
Alabaster, fallen flakes,
Did drift down through the eve.
The winter wind did gently blow,
And 'round the chimneys weave.
Slumber drew back peaceful spell,
As midnight's gloss did melt.
Within the heart of waking pets,
Gentle tendrils of soft dawn,
Did creep through window sill.
Each pet awoke with merry heart,
And out of bed did spill!
A frantic scuttle through the house,
To stockings hung up high.
Brightly wrapped the waiting gifts,
Which brought a cheery cry!
Plushies of all shapes and forms,
A Petpet here and there!
Wrapping was admired fast,
Then snatched off with a tear!
Within the glow from dancing flames,
One found this touching scene.
Excited pets and present stacks,
A massive tree of green!
Upon the day of giving gifts,
All decorations glowed.
The scene inside was warm and bright,
Outside it softly snowed.
A Lenny shaped of snow outside,
(His beak a carrot, too!)
On this magic, merry day,
Pet's every dream came true.
A NeoQuest Christmas
Snow falls upon the frozen plain,
Showing no signs of wane.
Creatures of the tundra have fled,
Ancient Neopia's children are abed.
A blizzard comes this Christmas Eve,
A blizzard that has yet to leave.
Alas, our hero has not a warm bed,
Nor a pillow to rest his weary head.
He withdraws into a cave for the night,
More than exhausted from his last fight.
White Lupe, you have earned your rest,
It is not yet time for your next test.
Ancient Neopia is excited for giving,
But all our hero wants is to go on living,
His quest is still far from done,
No time for company or gifts or fun.
He is alone, alone in the wilderness,
With only pelts and glowing stones for presents.
Minutes to midnight tick by fast,
Upon the white blanketed land so vast,
Others can forget the evil that is Jahbal,
And, for a moment, answer Christmas's call.
Not he, not our heroic Lupe far away,
He tries to stand guard until the day.
The Day of Giving has arrived! Joy of joys!
Soon, so shall Jahbal and his sinister ploys.
Saddest reality, our hero grips his staff,
No time for a smile, no time for a laugh.
He waits not for friends, but for storm's halt,
(We could say this is partly Jahbal's fault.)
Snow falls upon the frozen plain,
Slowing, showing signs of wane.
The towns are alive with hustle and bustle,
Adorned trees stand tall, light up and rustle,
Our hero's journey goes on as he stands,
And traverses, once more, these ancient lands.
A Grundo Christmas
Grundos raise their voices
In joyous jolly songs
From Kreludan Christmas Carols,
Inviting all to sing along.
For no Neopet loves Christmas
More than the Grundo nation
As they await the Day of Giving
On the Virtupets Space Station.
Their homes have no fireplaces
From which to hang their stockings,
But Splat Dr Sloth sock puppets
In the Hangar while they're docking.
A Grundo family never yet
Has had a Christmas tree,
But hang stars atop towering stalks
Of Cosmic Broccoli.
They read from A Grundo Christmas
Before bed each Christmas Eve,
Then go to sleep and start to dream
Of how their gifts will be received.
For it is especially true of Grundos,
With their steadfast way of living,
That their greatest joy at the holidays
Is not the getting, but the giving!
They wake early Christmas morning
With a flurry of unwrapping,
Delighting at each thoughtful gift
And each other's pleased hand clapping.
They sit down to their rehydrated feast,
A happy smile on each face,
Each Grundo heart filled with more joys
Than there are stars in deepest space.
Pity the Christmas Paint Brush
Pity the poor Christmas Paint Brush,
So simple and so bright.
Its reds and greens come in a rush,
Against winter's cloak of white.
Every year, in the Month of Celebrating,
Something special does occur.
Cries abound at its coming,
Upon the Advent Calendar's recur.
The Christmas brush is given free,
Much to the crowd's delight.
Neggnog flies with shouts of glee,
At its colourful sight.
And yet not every pet does paint,
In the Rainbow Pool's rich water.
Instead they sell without restraint,
To the quickest buyer.
The prices quickly drop and drop,
Faster than the Sleeper's eyes.
The Christmas Paint Brush is in a shop,
A price tag it espies.
No longer is it popular,
Its numbers are far too great.
The paint brush is made ever idler,
By its cheap price -- a terrible trait!
Pity the poor Christmas Paint Brush,
So simple and so bright.
Its reds and greens are now pale,
To the expensive brushes out there.
I Do Not Like the Day of Giving
I do not like snow or cold or ice;
The colour green is never nice,
Firs make me sneeze,
So take them away, please.
Wrapping paper is a waste;
Crunchy loud, environmentally unsafe.
Presents are always rank --
My money wants to stay in the bank,
And anything unto me they unload
Is bound to shortly explode.
Hot chocolate has no taste,
Eggnog comes out an awful paste;
Candy canes are falsely bright,
And peppermint gives me a fright.
I do not like wreaths of holly,
I do not want to be jolly --
The pomp and ado make me ill,
Especially from those on Neopia Hill.
No, I'd really rather you kept away;
Please don't bother me on this day,
I do not want to be included,
I will not be falsely deluded,
These celebrations are a mockery.
I hate the Day of Giving, it's true,
And if you were sane, you would too;
All those pies and cakes,
Baking and popcorn snakes.
I will not relent, I will not have levity,
I will not join in any festivity --
What's that you say?
You made cookies fresh for me today?
You did the cooking, the decorating, the work?
Yes, of course I'd like to join you, dear,
Christmas is my favourite time of year!
A Month of Celebration
Happiness is all around
From Tyrannia to Neovia town.
A world in a month of celebration,
Neopia has full elation.
Presents circulate around
And Meepits sing carols.
Mika and Carassa stock up their sales
And Meuka holds up the mistletoe.
Snow falls in other lands,
Than just on Terror Mountain.
Holly decorates houses and
Wreaths are hung on doors.
Neopia celebrates a wonderful time
Of happiness and cheer.
Snow outside the window falls;
Borovan on the fire boils;
"Happy Holidays!" the Moehog calls,
And gives her neighbours Christmas Noils.
Pawprints in the snow arrive,
As tiny Petpets play and thrive;
They build a snowman, ball by ball,
And share the merriest day of all.
The bell on her hat begins to jingle,
As the Moehog brings the cookies and milk;
Her many guests talk and mingle,
And enjoy the chocolate as smooth as silk.
The holidays are finally here,
Filled with joy and Christmas cheer;
The guests sip their Chestnut Neggnog,
And thank their hostess, the lovely Moehog.
Give on the 25th!
25th of the Celebrating month,
Oh the joy, the joy!
The snow, chilblains, the ice's wrath,
Yet the little Neopets come out to play.
Colourful ribbons, trees, and wreaths,
The fireplace, our favourite place to be,
Outside, the snowflakes falls,
Sing some songs about giving, shall we?
Give, give, and give,
That's what we ought to do,
What about take?
Oh, that's for me, now what about you?
Fancy a holly wand?
Candy cane hair bow?
How about a garland?
Or even toast made of snow.
Your pets and friends,
You should reward,
With red and white socks,
Something for them to hoard.
Oh, make me fat, say the socks,
Make me fat with gifts,
For only once 25th comes,
The day of days,
Filled with grins.
A Time for Miracles
Baby Aisha looks out her window,
Hoping for it to snow,
"Even a drop!" to Grandpa she says,
"It is the time of year, no?"
"Don't give up on your wish just yet!"
Grandpa says as Aisha frets,
"It is the Day of Giving,
And even a time of miracles, I bet!"
"Take, for instance, the Grumpy Old King,
Who cannot dance or sing,
Why, I saw him crack a smile!
Who would've believed such a thing?
"The Snowager, guard of all treasure,
Gave away goods out of pleasure!
While Meridell and Darigan celebrate together,
(Bound by a peace treaty for good measure)!
"Today faeries cherish care over beauty,
Hard-working Balthazar picks family over duty,
King Hagan thinks of love over wisdom,
And Krawk pirates prize friends over booty!
"Even the elusive Lutari Island can be found,
By its inhabitants' merry-making sound!
And deep within the Haunted Woods,
Joy and laughter abound!
"So, baby Aisha, worry a little lesser,
Snow is possible, yes sir!"
But baby Aisha countered,
"Not here in the Lost Desert!"
Winter Is Here
Icicles hanging down, sparkling, shimmering.
Christmas lights draped around houses, glittering.
Snow gently falling, white everywhere,
A chilling breeze is present in the bitter air.
The small delicate snowflakes softly touch down;
Neopets on the ice rink skate round and round.
Angels in the snow, snowmen being built,
Neopians hiding inside tucked under the quilt.
Fires blazing, their flames so warm;
Outside the weather changes into a wintry storm.
The wind whistling, all rivers frozen,
Presents lie under the tree, all thoughtfully chosen.
Christmas is near, the festive feeling high;
Holly trees are growing, mistletoe hanging nearby.
Delicious mince pies are passed around the room;
Snowballs being thrown in the breezy afternoon.
Christmas trees so high, tinsel flowing,
Stars in the midnight sky beautifully glowing.
Decorated stockings hang upon the fireplace,
Each Neopet awaiting, excitement on their face.
You Can't Bottle of Day Of Giving
I stare, captivated.
It's the Day Of Giving, jolly and merry.
The tree is heavy.
Bright lights aplenty.
I laugh as the latest Advent prize came by...
But I must say that I liked the Coral Recorder better.
With sly smirks, we pass the punch...
Only to come up gasping with two-day-old Extra
Strength Terry Berry Tea dripping down our lips.
Punch is hastily exchanged for Groggy Grog Nogg.
The presents were passed next.
Ones from Faerieland, Mystery Island, and one
like grey mysterious present from three days past.
We sit in a circle.
The presents bounce, in and out of our laps.
We're playing hot potato...
Only with these shimmery presents.
That grey one lands in mine, and the music stops.
I want to unload it to another, but no one is willing.
Slowly, I pull the ribbon.
It was still pretty, I admit.
The ribbon slid off like water.
From beneath the cracks of the lid, a muted glow.
I open it completely.
I find a bottled faerie. A light one, to be precise.
She's sitting cross-legged in the centre,
Idly making sparkles dance around her.
She looks sad, and doesn't meet my gaze.
I think about my abilities. I've only got Flash.
Perhaps it's time for Bless?
But her little face, screwed up in sorrow,
Made for a stark contrast to Day Of Giving spirit.
I lift it higher and stare at her.
She doesn't appreciate it.
I briefly have sparkles whirlwind around my eyes.
I was really seeing stars.
Huffing, she sneers at me.
I was baffled.
Weren't all faeries inherently like angels?
Then she sighs.
And I understand.
I open the bottle, but before she makes to bless me...
I stop her.
"Have a good Day of Giving," I whisper.
No one deserves to be stuck on the Day of Giving.
She smiles, stunning and beautiful.
She vanishes in shower of gold.
Total Poetry Pages : 1884
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