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Cleansing (to a Shadow Shoyru)
Shadow Shoyru on the wing,
A streak of dusk in a darkening sky --
Fly, swift one,
Born of the day that dies,
When the absence of light opens
These slow-dying twilight skies.
Fleet wings carry you on your
Quest to unravel the curls
Of night's black veil;
And the horizon builds a stormscape
Of clouds burning black --
Yours is the realm of shadows
Mingling with darker shadows,
The black lapse, the void
Of wind-whipped sand reflecting
Like a broken mirror,
A starless stygian sky --
And the heavens ring with thunder
And the heavy air turns to drops,
And this dusty world spread
Below your wings
Has its first taste of rain.
Trasn- No, Tras- No, Transmogrification!
The mysterious grog
is in your paw.
You stare down at it,
confusion and fear
racing through your veins.
Your heart skips a beat;
your belly flips and flops;
and your throat whines.
You feel like running,
but you just bite your lip.
Who was that man,
who put this bottle in your hand,
the one who gifted you this concoction?
His skin was green;
he was like nothing
you'd ever seen before...
Oh well, you shrug,
who cares, you think,
as you pop the cork and down the liquid.
It slides down your throat
thick as molasses.
You cough and hack,
but it's already done.
You fall to your knees;
you clutch your head;
you glance at your paws as they begin to stretch,
claws and spikes and crimson eyes,
fangs and worry and screams and lies.
He said it would make you beautiful;
he said it would make you grand!
That man had said you'd be perfect
as he slid the bottle into your hand.
How could you be so easily tricked?
How could you so easily forget?
That man was Sloth, no, Dr. Sloth,
and now he had one more.
One more mutant Grundo --
what could he be planning to use you for?
Relic Paint Brush
Mounted on a crumbling slate,
The relic Shoyru is a fearsome sight,
With a body formed of smooth cold stone,
He could give you quite a fright.
But how do these creatures come to be?
Where can the fabled Relic Paint Brush be found?
It certainly isn't an everyday item,
Not something found in the sea or on the ground.
No, you must travel to the highest mountain,
Until you reach the highest peak,
And it's there that, perhaps, you'll have a chance,
To find the paintbrush that you seek.
It may take days, or even weeks,
Before that ancient relic is sighted
Wedged between a cracked, creviced stone,
The fractured old brush will make you delighted.
While the relic Shoyru is first Neopet to emerge
In the Relic finery of polished stone and slate,
You'll want to keep hold of your Relic Paint Brush,
For I'm sure the other relic Neopets will look great!
There Is Someone Unluckier Than You
When life treats you badly,
And you feel like you're in mess,
Remember those less lucky than you
And that you may just have it best.
You may have heard of Caylis,
An Aisha under the sea,
Her nightmares told of disaster,
And her banishment was a decree.
She cannot help her gift,
We all know that is true,
But Maraquan friends turned from her,
Because they don't see our view.
Vira has troubles too,
An Acara with a ragged past,
She was a pretty girl,
But one wish changed that fast.
Her heart has now turned cold,
And her life has changed a lot,
She lives the life of an enemy,
While her old dreams have turned to rot.
You know the Grundo Plushie,
The one abandoned long ago,
He lives his life in sorrow,
Left behind in the snow.
Others visit him sometimes,
Seeing all his pain,
But he is nothing but a plushie,
Left behind in the rain.
The Ghost Lupe has it bad,
No matter if he is real or not,
He died while saving a loved one,
And now his heart is shot.
Life to him is terrible,
Living only on revenge,
He is distressed every minute,
Without much to avenge.
So no matter how bad it is,
No matter what life may do,
You must always remember,
There is someone unluckier than you.
Into the Sky
a gentle flap
of leathery wing
as the breeze whispers
a low, furtive murmur
of petals and leaves.
A sweet scent
of spring flowers.
The crisp, clean air
of a new spring.
Another tentative flap,
a test of the winds --
not quite, though
flight, ah, flight --
aches in your bones and
gurgles through your veins,
burns hot under your skin --
a desire for open sky --
for the ground stifles
every breath with every step.
When the wind yells, exultant,
that's when you fly.
aerodynamics, all fall away
upon a burst of joyous speed,
an explosion of rapturous
and into the sky,
a Shoyru soars.
Total Poetry Pages : 2009
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