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I entered a curious shop to gander,
To peruse around inside.
Rows and rows of empty shelves!
No items did within hide.
A smiling Kau gazed at me,
her coat vibrant and starred.
And while her smile was beautiful,
She seemed to be on guard.
I browsed a little longer,
Before my sight took focus.
Astounded by a Draik-shaped bottle,
I heard the tremble of locusts.
Not locusts did I see, though,
When I turned curious to the buzz.
But a horde of bloodthirsty Neopians!
Running like an Alabriss does.
I brought the potion to the Kau
and offered her my cash.
But before we could work out a deal,
The crowd and I did clash.
Out flew the potion from my hands,
as a paw trampled my head.
Shoving and shouting above me,
Until "I'll accept that offer!" she said.
Then quickly did the crowd retreat,
some with Neopoints well spent.
I, however, was trampled on the floor,
Singing a restocker's lament.
A Scorchio's Grace
Shining, glinting, majestic wings,
they spread apart like open arms,
welcoming you as a smirk cracks upon
the face of a grand creature
with spunk and elegance,
with class and style,
smarts and wit,
complete with a sarcastic wink
as he flutters away into the sun.
The creature's wings beat against the air,
pushing it down like a dumbbell on a blanket.
The grand beast's nose points in a perfect line
And the Scorchio gracefully...
The Curiosity Curse
Up and down I must fly
To escape this wretched place.
There are boulders moving constantly,
I must keep up my pace.
The gems, oh how they taunt me,
But alas I must stay away.
For the fireballs hurtling closely
Would surely end my day.
The small dear bubbles mean safety,
Though only for a bit.
The fickle things just disappear
Right as I'm to be hit!
My name, of course, is Glubgar
And my curiosity got me in this mess.
Now to get out of this cursed volcano,
I must fly my very best.
There are a couple problems, though,
As plain as the eye can see.
I'm afraid all these rocks and lava
Will get the best of me!
The Great Turmaculus
With a grunt and gentle snore,
The mighty beast slumbers once more,
In lush fields 'neath golden beams,
The Turmaculus; what does he dream?
Of Meridell's sweet and tender fruit,
Or jester's song and player's flute?
Of times of old and ancient tales,
Or never-seen, unridden trails?
Of highest peaks of mountains great,
Or crumbled cities lost to fate?
Of faeries in their hidden realms,
Or warriors beneath their helms?
What secrets does this creature know?
Of scorching sun or blowing snow,
The language of the molten caves,
The wise advice of heroes brave.
Perhaps the whispers of the sky,
Perhaps one day, he may dare try,
To sprout vast wings and soar away,
And with those in his dreams to play.
The beast groans and snorts again,
Hulking over his domain,
A sweet smile on his maw,
Rumbling into his curled paw.
Perhaps he dreams of nothing grand,
Beyond his simple, adored land.
What more could this creature ask?
Eating and sleep his only task!
A sapphire sky, where clouds billow,
The farms and cottages below.
Meridell's fields of true gold;
A splendorous dream to behold.
Scorchio Roll Call
Scorchios will roam,
Here's an ode to inform,
Where each calls home:
The Scorchio Warrior...
Iron-clad from head to toe,
So brave and strong,
He battles in Meridell,
Opponents won't last long!
The Scorchio Alchemist...
In a Neopian magic shop,
While dressed like a wizard,
He concocts strange potions,
What a crafty lizard!
The red Scorchio...
He lurks near the Tyrannian volcanoes
That are filled with fire;
He's careful not to be harmed,
For his wings help him fly higher!
The yellow Scorchio...
In the dusty Lost Desert,
He basks in the sun,
The sand doesn't bother him,
He finds it quite fun!
The Maraquan Scorchio...
With no legs to speak of,
But rather a mermaid's tail,
He explores the Maraquan sea,
Without leaving a trail!
The brown Scorchio...
He's the laziest of all,
Always sitting by palm trees,
He hangs out on Mystery Island,
And enjoys the cool breeze!
The Scorchio Avenger...
During the wee hours of night,
In the Haunted Woods he'll wait,
This masked predator,
Will show enemies their fate!
So as you explore,
Keep an open eye,
For you may just be lucky...
A Scorchio you might spy!
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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