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CHOMBY CARNIVAL SPECIAL
Two Royal Chombies Take a Walk
Regal and serene she walks,
The Chomby Royalgirl
Resplendent in her stately garb,
Pink shawl like banners furl.
The bracers girding each royal foot
Chime as she glides along.
The furred and feathered tail cuff
Marks her trail through dusty ground.
Her head is held nobly erect;
Green eyes like emeralds shine
Beneath a cascading headdress,
Her expression grand and sublime.
Her brother soon joins in promenade,
The Chomby Royalboy.
He matches her in sombre gait
With equal pomp and poise.
With furry robes banded with spikes,
His power is proclaimed.
His bejewelled collar, circlet of rock,
Marks a destiny ordained.
His headdress springs from stony crown
Adding to appearance grand,
As side-by-side the siblings walk
Surveying their prehistoric land.
Ode to Chomby and the Fungus Balls
Are you a dancer? Perhaps a groover?
Do you long to hop and sway?
Do you dream, oh graceful mover,
Of a twirl-filled, tuneful day?
Then let me tell you, oh toe-tapper,
Of a band to fill your needs!
Of a group so slick, so dapper,
They might bring you to your knees.
I speak of Chomby! Oh, that crooner!
And those swinging Fungus Balls!
A band so great, they need no tuner,
A band that sets a-shake the walls!
Hear them rock and hear them wail!
Chomby gives a soulful cry,
Indeed, a band that never fails
To raise your hands up to the sky.
The stage, awash in psychedelia,
The crowd is jumping to their feet,
And oh, the piles of memorabilia,
For you to buy yourself a treat!
So buy your tickets -- buy them swiftly!
For you'll find without delay,
That these concerts sell out quickly,
For such an dancefest, folks pay!
So come watch Chomby go a-prancing,
Hear the Balls all harmonise!
And you'll find, all day, you're dancing,
Until the stars rise in the skies!
The Mayor of Moltara
Beneath the rocky ground,
And behind forgotten doors,
The elder Chomby waits for those
Who come from far-off shores.
Amid the grinding gears
And the workshop's steaming roar,
The Mayor of Moltara
Holds the secret to the core.
Countless years ago, they tried
To control the molten flame,
But Neopia's in trouble,
And the furnace is to blame.
The stabilising unit
Dwindles with each day,
Until all of Neopia
Descends to disarray.
The Mayor is deeply troubled
But is helpless in his plight.
He remembers vaguely the ones
Who vanished from the light.
The ones who broke away
And gave up fur for molten stone,
Never to be heard from,
And never to be known.
These Neopets haunt the Mayor
As the many fortnights pass along,
They could not be the answer,
They've been gone for far too long.
And so the Mayor has naught to do
But sit and wait and wait,
And gaze up at the ground above,
And leave the rest to fate.
The Chomby Fight
The vast Tyrannian gangs gathered 'round,
Two brothers circling drew the large crowd.
For a moment they just stood and they stared,
Thoughts echoing of precious moments once shared.
Why they could not share the title was unknown;
Only one Chomby brother would hold the throne.
Would it be the blue, his vast intelligence great?
Would it be the green, his strength welcome trait?
They circled to the left, and then to the right,
Preparing themselves for the upcoming fight.
A crackling tension resounded in the air,
How could this round be considered fair?
Their whole lives they had waited for this time,
The time when both Chombies reached their prime.
Today was the day that a decision would be made,
It would determine who left, and he who stayed.
Dawn was now here, beckoning them forth,
The sun positioned low in the skies to the north.
But instead of screams of warfare breaking to,
Two brothers realised what they already knew.
They couldn't bring themselves to fight a best friend,
To fight one they'd promised to be with to the end.
This was a conflict better solved with peaceful talk,
Not brutal fighting that left a single victor to walk.
So in this conclusion a compromise was sought,
Neither brother regretted that they hadn't fought.
Only one with the title of 'leader' could purloin;
This was decided not by war, but by flip of a coin.
The Chomby Djinn
There doth lie a lamp in the sands,
Painted silver by the light of the moon.
Made by the most skilful of hands,
It now sits upon the crest of a dune.
Within in slumber there lies a spirit,
A Chomby djinn to tell the truth.
Adorned with many a shiny trinket,
I must say, he is hardly a youth!
Then one day he was found,
By a Scorchio, to his surprise.
In a burst of magic was he unwound,
Into the darkened, twilight skies.
Three wishes I can give you, he yell'd,
And the Scorchio was quick to reply.
Glittering riches, treasures unparallel'd,
Neopoints of limitless supply.
To the foolish one the wish was granted,
The Chomby djinn did as requested.
Unto the Scorchio a rain had dropped,
A rain of gold and riches had landed!
Once hit by the blocks did he realise his error,
While the Chomby watched as he tried to alter.
For here lies a lesson made in times of yore,
Do be careful of what you wish for!
The Choosy Chomby
Chocolate at two o'clock,
Or Chomby Chips at three?
Perhaps a wedge of Chokato --
Or a slice of cake with tea?
A bite of Famous Crab Burger
Or a taste of Cheese Fondue?
Maybe a cuppa Cappuccino,
Or will cotton candy do?
Cherries Jubilee? Delicious.
Cupcakes? How divine!
Coconuts are so flavourful --
But a Chia Pop's just sublime...
Food. How can one ever decide
On any meal or snack --
When there's so much to be had?
I do believe I'll soon crack --
'Cause I'm choosy as a Chomby,
As only a Chomby can be.
What, eat them all? Ridiculous --
Do you take me for a Skeith?
The Origami Chomby
Gentle folds with caution made,
Such care that can't abate.
Marigold the paper's shine,
It's time to mould, create.
One tiny crease creates the head,
Now focus, don't lose sight.
A fold to form the graceful neck,
Must be done slow, just right.
A firmer twist and folds define,
Creating body's size.
A Chomby done in miniature,
Now grows before your eyes.
Take great care, the final fold,
That tail comes to view.
There he is, a tiny shape,
Created just by you.
Behold the fruits of ancient craft!
The folds made from the heart.
Tiny Chomby comes to life,
Through gift of age-old art.
The Secret Chomby
From the tar pits of Tyrannia,
A Chomby can arise,
Or so goes the story,
Both mystery and thriller.
His name is the Secret Chomby,
And for good reason, too.
He waits in those tar pits,
Patient and practiced.
Waiting for one to stroll right on by.
Oblivious to the tar puddle,
Sitting innocently by.
But oh no! Not true at all!
For that puddle hides the most
Fearsome creature of all.
Out leaps the Chomby!
Covered in tar,
Scaring the passerby,
Looking like a mud monster.
With a happy grin and gleeful yell,
He slinks back into the mud,
The Secret Chomby,
Waiting for the next one to come right on by.
Among the flowers in your garden,
Perched upon the ground,
Sits a yellow Chomby lawn gnome,
With eyes green and round.
Still as the rocks around him,
Motionless with passing days,
Yet protector of your flowers,
If you were to go away.
Head topped with a little hat,
A white beard surrounds his smile.
Cute flower clutched in his tail,
A creature made with style.
He sits still in your garden,
With his little flower pink,
But look twice at the little lawn gnome --
You might just see him blink!
Step Right Up to the Chomby Carnival!
Step right up, the Chomby Carnival's here!
It's really much more fun than it may appear.
With our prehistoric games
And food roasted with flames,
Come join us, there's nothing to fear.
Once every year in the month of Running,
The fun Chombies offer is simply stunning.
Each Chomby celebrates,
With toys, games, and skates,
If you'd join in, we'd think you're cunning.
Every Neopet gets its own special day,
But many turn out to be just a cliche.
Yet when a Chomby throws a party,
It's fun and hearty,
And everyone's welcome to stay.
Usually Chombies are munching on trees,
But the Chomby Carnival makes them freeze.
They run to their places,
Organise fun races,
And throw a party to put Neopia at ease.
So come one, come all, we're having a ball,
You might miss this great event if you stall.
Now put on the party hat,
Finish that pleasant chat,
And get over to Tyrannia's Concert Hall!
Total Poetry Pages : 1962
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