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Neopets Poems

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A Note from the Poetry Judge: Due to popular demand, here's a special Poetry Gallery devoted to Neopian toys!

Cymbal Bashing Mynci Toy
By Anjie

I sought to buy the perfect toy,
To give me endless play.
I mentioned this to my small pet,
"I'll find one!" did she say.
I left the chore in her own paws,
I knew she would do well.
But would she find the perfect toy?
Well, only time would tell.

When she brought parcel to our home,
I opened it with glee.
But not a cuddly, merry toy
Or plushie did I see.
Instead the thing inside the box
Glanced up with angry eyes.
"Don't you love it?" asked my pet,
"Sure! Yes!" I told such lies!

The Cymbal Bashing Mynci Toy
So eerily did stand.
He had a dark, malicious grin,
A cymbal in each hand.
He stared at me, I stared right back,
We both remained so still.
Yet that sneaky, evil grin
Did bring me coldest chill.

It seems not every little toy
Does bring a smile, true.
But should it bring a sense of fear?
Or terror, I ask you?
I put him on the tallest shelf,
He's cute, I had been rash.
Yet when I turned off lights that night,
I heard the cymbals crash...

The Pinata's Song
By Dragonstorm_75

Hanging high up on the tree,
By the thinnest twist of twine,
A Petpet is hanging free,
Held only by the finest line.

The Petpet is quite silent;
Voices are growing louder.
The children are absent,
But they will be coming nearer.

They arrive with wooden sticks,
Laughing and filled with glee.
Turmaculus sees their antics,
He is at their mercy.

The pinata cannot take flight,
As the children bind their eyes.
Despite the absence of their sight,
They run to him with happy cries.

Soon there is candy on the ground,
Chocolates and mints, liquorice too.
Every single tidbit is searched for and found,
Plucked out of their wrappers to bite and chew.

The Turmaculus pinata is still calm,
It cannot speak, but it is very happy.
The children are having fun without a qualm,
And that is what the pinata loves to see.

Toys to the Rescue
By Concertogreat_8

All my toys
They are lined up
In rows
Little brave soldiers,
Marching forward.

My pretend cannons fire,
The ship is boarded --
The castle's under siege,
No escape in sight.

Captain Scarblade advances
Kass is not far behind;
They trail their swords.

Like wooden minions
My toys come to rescue,
And save my world,
Once again.

My Skeith soldiers,
Riding Whinnies to battle,
Chase away the nightmare,
Bring the light to life.

And the shadows are long
On the pillow-fort,
When the sun goes, they lie still,
My toys have saved the day
Again.

Resewn Shoyru Plushie
By Yoyote

Beside the Rainbow Fountain's rush,
Upon a wispy cloud,
I found the magic Grundo plush
Alone amid the crowd.

He grants you wealth and luck, 'tis said,
An avatar as well;
But as I neared with gentle tread,
I paused within his spell.

By some strange charm I came aware
Of other plushies lost;
I found beneath the Grundo's stare
A Shoyru blue as frost.

Her eye was patched, her wings resewn;
She was a sorry sight.
But there within the magic zone
I hoped to end her plight.

I walked away from magic's grasp
Without the avatar;
Without dear fortune's golden clasp,
But with a toy bizarre.

She sits upon my table now,
This Shoyru plushie found,
With many patches on her brow,
And a smile so soft, profound.

The Darigan Toy Store
By Umbreon_clone

A toy store isn't what one thinks
to find on Darigan's plain;
not a lot could make you link
its spikes to wooden trains.

As one would think, all it sells
is gruesomely bizarre:
eyeballs glazed and turned to bells,
a monstrous, shrieking car,
reject dolls with backward heads,
yoyos made from bugs,
dollies sewn with greasy threads,
and masks modelled for thugs.
Angry Usuls that make clear
they're wanting to be groomed,
figurines that always leer,
and plushies once entombed,
bubbles made from acid green,
squeakers that yell and scream,
vinyl, slimy and unclean,
puppets that plot and scheme.
Wind-up things, marching alone,
no need for you to aid,
jump ropes brandished on a stone,
their thorns akin to blade.

Whenever they review their stock,
the list goes on for days.
(What method makes a gagging clock?
Please, don't count the ways.)

Dancing Rosie Doll
By Jayo289

Swaying to and fro, you're mesmerised,
Rocking back and forth, you're hypnotised.
Dancing her special summer jig,
Like she's at a world-class gig.

You slowly start to dance along,
Finally somewhere you belong.
A place to dance all year 'round,
A nice new friend that you have found.

Extend your arms and swing your hips,
The most wonderful of all friendships.
Kick your legs and flick your tail,
A dance this good can never fail.

All through Neopia you dance,
Placing everyone into a trance.
In pirate hats and hula skirts,
Plus fur-lined coats and underwater shirts.

Even though spring has not come,
Have no fears, you still have fun.
Jiving through the thick snowfall,
With your special Dancing Rosie Doll.

Mutant Hissi Plushie
By _Razcalz_

"PLUSHIE SALE," the sign declares,
One morning at the shops.
Plushies piled in single mound,
On tables they are plopped.
Popular as soft toys are,
Soon, most are carried off.
But alas, the last ones stay,
At which the Neopets scoff.

"How can a plushie have two heads?"
Is what they all protest.
For indeed, this Hissi plush
Is mutant, as you've guessed.
One tail, one body, but two necks,
Two sets of golden eyes.
Unwanted for this feature odd,
On table's edge, it lies.

Shopkeeper now wanders o'er,
Explaining why it's last.
"The two heads need your equal love,"
She states as shoppers pass.
"You cannot hug just one of them,
But not the other, see?
Otherwise they get jealous,
That would be bad," says she.

"How odd!" you muse as Hissi lolls,
"Isn't it just a toy?"
And then you see the solution;
This plush can yet bring joy.
An (actual) mutant Hissi pet:
Both heads will now have fun!
To your dismay, shopkeeper beams,
"There's still a mutant Aisha one..."

Mynci Puppet
By Wicked_summer

Chipped paint, a tangle of
Broken strings. The paint
Is peeling, curls of tired red
And weary gold. Fool's gold.

Broken.

Back when days were warm, when the
Paint was fresh with freedom, the puppet
Danced. It spun, graceful,
Leaf on the wind.

Broken. It dances no more.

It was loved, cherished.
Would never be sold. Red and gold.
And now it sprawls in tired tangle,
Limbs twisted, eye blind.

Broken.

It still smiles.

The Air Faerie Doll
By Precious_katuch14

Dressed in robes of periwinkle and sky,
This air faerie doesn't exactly fly.
But who really cares if she can or not?
It doesn't change the fact that she costs a lot!

Millions of Neopoints for an Air Faerie Doll,
Sadly, sadly, the price is not my call.
Long, lustrous hair and glittery wings,
Far more expensive than those shiny earrings!

In her case she sits, awaiting one with money,
It's been a while so it is rather funny...
Who can pay the price for this lovely toy?
Who can take her home? Don't be coy!

Unblinking sapphire eyes watch each customer
Coming around only to gaze at her.
A precious treasure well out of reach,
"Won't you take less?" they beseech.

She knows that she is truly rare,
Peerless, no other toy can compare.
On many wish lists is her name penned,
The demand for the Air Faerie Doll never ends.

Day of Giving looms, and so do her fans,
Wishing to see her once, even once.
Dressed in robes of periwinkle and sky,
Her price has gone way up high,
Long, lustrous hair and glittery wings,
Never mind if she doesn't talk or sing!
Sapphire eyes set in a face so fair,
Who would buy her? Who would dare?
Someday, sooner or later, someone will,
Someone with the Neopoints shall seal the deal.

Someday, sooner or later, someone will,
Experience the dedicated collector's thrill.

The Magical Red Skeith Plushie
By Sadinei

The gift was tied by a neat shining golden bow,
Wrapped in red paper flecked with white snow.
What could be inside was anyone's guess,
Was it a new book or an elegant formal dress?

As the Acara came down on Giving's morn,
She found the paper already in one corner torn.
Poking from the corner was a plushie's red leg,
Carefully sown and as a straight as a peg.

She tore the paper off in a highly excited state,
Her face in a smile and her anticipation great.
When all the paper was torn from the gift,
The Red Skeith Plushie she played with, swift.

The plush was the Acara's new favourite toy,
And for at least a moment it brought her great joy.
But suddenly her flesh began to twist and turn,
Her transformation now her greatest concern.

No longer was she soft and fluffy as a Kad,
She was now large and enormously fat.
Her skin was scaly and her jaws great and wide,
Her troubled feelings her new eyes could not hide.

"Something has happened, and now I'm a Skeith,
With little scaly wings and quite sharp teeth!"
She exclaimed in the mirror at her new sight,
She exclaimed all morning and through the night.

But the little Acara was not at all sad,
If anything at all she was quite glad.
She was sick of the cute and sick of the dull,
And this present turned out to be best of all.





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