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LUPE DAY SPECIAL
From Tomos to Nabile
When you could not bear to say goodbye
in the rutted lanes of the open street
in the land where I'd grown up,
you sent a letter (I opened it
I remembered coming to rely upon you
like my own right paw,
always there in the time of need,
perhaps too much for a
Lupe like me.
Did I forget who I was,
did you take that away when you left,
when you left me?
We shoulder our burdens,
accept our lot in life,
and come to eat the dust
that coats the grimy streets.
Gold coins jingle and I still see your face;
I wonder if you see mine (occasionally
I still steal cinnamon and spice).
Was it my rags and patches
or fur cut too short?
I know I had a tendency to take too much --
(I knew that you would stop me.)
The dirty prints of childhood
clutter the map of my mind,
delineation between continents
set adrift (I was so naive,
a gangly young Lupe,
to trust you, Nabile).
The Road to Home
In a distant lonesome land,
there stood a Lupe, alone.
He could not find a place to stay;
Where was the road to home?
And soon the poor Lupe could not stand,
So tired he had grown.
He could not feel the ocean spray;
He could not reach his home...
They had chased him in the sand,
Into a place he'd never known.
They left him there, a ghost to decay.
He would never make it home...
So now, the Ghost Lupe rules the land;
He rules the land alone.
But he does not wish to stay;
Where is the road to home?
Reginald, Lupe of Neovia
In faded image town of old,
A world from long ago,
There were sewn seeds of plot,
To tell a tale of woe.
A Lupe youth, name of Reginald,
Did live a happy life.
His longing, though, for something more
Would only lead to strife.
The Lupe did clutch the potion now
And to his lips did lift.
One shaky breath, he gulped it down,
Consumed it, rather swift.
Wisdom graced our hero's mind,
Beyond what most could dream.
Reginald was brilliant now,
So wise did young Lupe seem!
Nothing is quite what it seems,
A lesson he would learn.
Reginald was wise, it's true,
But this, he did not earn.
Soon no one did understand
His every spoken word.
He did confuse his fellow folk,
Who found him odd, absurd.
One sip of potion, evil brew,
Did change his world one night.
It would take years to solve the curse,
And set the small town right.
So bravely did the youthful Lupe
Consume that fated flask,
But wisdom came at highest price,
In gloom he would soon bask.
"Be My Friend?"
There hardly was an odder sight
Neopians had ever seen...
Than sitting Lupe, by Money Tree,
Looking quite cheerful, keen.
Around his neck hung wooden sign,
"BE MY FRIEND?" it said.
"Chias welcum!" it added,
In (misspelled) words of red.
Sceptical, you wander o'er,
What's this all about?
Lupe attempts to sweetly smile,
And then, he does call out:
"Oh, I'm lonely! Pity me,
Won't you be my friend?
I'd love to have a Chia pal,
'Tis the latest trend!"
Quite confused, you listen on,
Lupe continues, grins.
"Chias and I will have fun,
We'll play the violin...
If music isn't to your taste,
Instead, perhaps we'll knit!
What's that? I wouldn't eat you, no!
Wouldn't dream of it!"
Lupe's shifty eyes are clear as day;
Alas, there's now a group.
He swivels 'round, comes face to face
With sign-bearing, hungry Lupes.
Indeed, our Lupe is quite grumpy,
He turns back and shouts:
"Pfft! They'll never fall for THAT!"
And sulks off with a pout.
Lady of the River
Rushing down the rapid river,
White Lupe of enviable grace,
On a board of gold and green,
Cassile, lady of the river race.
Soaring off a roaring waterfall,
She spins and twirls and dives,
Before landing safely yet again,
With a laugh at the crowd's cries.
Down the river, weaving fast,
Around rocks and fallen trees,
Cassile takes it all with a grin,
Performing her tricks with ease.
No prize is needed for this Lupe,
Who riverboards for joy alone,
But your hands together for her,
As she finally heads for home.
For she's outperformed the best,
And laughed as she flew above,
No care for safety, the others say,
But to Cassile, it's an act of love.
Love for the river, love for Shenkuu,
Love for the feeling of utter speed,
As she passes all her competitors,
Focused on one thing alone: the lead.
Rushing down the river on her board,
Gold and green and purest white,
Cassile, the lady of the river race,
Has taken first place again tonight.
The Werelupe lay awake,
Reaching out to the moon,
His soul is heard.
With no audience,
Just the echoes of his howl,
Until the sun does rise.
Who would want such a monstrous creature,
And large fangs?
Only the brave would go near,
For such a killer,
Not many come back,
Not many don't fear.
As he is the predator,
And the world is his prey.
An evil grin appears
Across his face,
Whispering words of darkness,
To the one he hunts.
But as the night comes to an end,
And the shadows rise,
A soul so misunderstood,
The fear of any misbehaving young Chia
Is the thought of that fearsome beast.
Parents warn their children of the Luperus,
For on naughty Chias he'll surely feast.
A terrible creature he is, they say,
All six eyes gleam red like fire,
Each of three heads has lethal teeth;
He has muscles that never tire.
His other features are even more scary:
He can smell a Chia from a mile away.
His ears can pick up the tiniest sound;
His howl keeps all others at bay.
He lurks at night, his senses keen,
For his favourite Chia meal.
His careful ears tune in perfectly,
For a little yelp or squeal.
Yet some say he's just a myth,
That would indeed be a nice thought.
But others claim that they've met the Lupe,
And always with fear they are wrought.
So whether real or just a legend,
It's best to tread carefully and behave:
It's said that he doesn't eat nice little ones:
It's the trouble-making Chias he craves!
Birth: In a laboratory
The scientists created me
And there began my life story.
Purpose: Hunting, ever hunting
In the manner of Lupes, seeking
Always trying to find something.
Trail: Others may be found
Trapped to walk the grassy ground,
While I through vast cold spaces bound.
I need no food, I need no air;
I withstand what most Lupes cannot bear.
I can go almost anywhere.
Kreludor or Maraqua deep,
I feel no pain, I need no sleep.
I've walked through magma, braved cliffs steep.
Conclusion: Of Lupes, I am unique.
My body is metal, strong and sleek;
I'll surely find that which I seek.
...but what am I hunting for?
The Werelupe Howls
The Haunted Woods stand in eerie quiet,
As even the wind makes no sound,
The night is black and strangely still;
There is no movement on the ground.
In the sky, the clouds do shift,
Slowly dragged by an unseen pull,
Shapes of grey moved against their wishes,
Revealing the white moon, bright and full.
Suddenly the wind stirs up,
As the black sky is streaked with light,
Silver and white gleaming from above,
Sending ripples through the night.
The Neopets in the houses wake
And run downstairs to lock their doors,
Huddling together in the dark,
Frightened of what may be in store.
In the blackness, trees shake with fear,
And every Petpet cries and growls,
Silence grips all of the Haunted Woods
Until, in the darkness, the Werelupe howls.
The Ghost Lupe's Tale
A howl in the night rings loud and clear --
Could that be the Ghost Lupe drawing near?
We were once friends, quite long ago,
When the moon was full in the starlight's glow.
To Mystery Island, adventurous in youth, I went,
With nothing but my torch and tent,
And although I suspected to see great sights
What visited me set my soul alight;
A pale spectre with eyes of red,
Looming over my makeshift bed.
I would have screamed or cried or yelled,
But with a burning instinct I was held --
A horrifying ghostly creature he may be,
But a moment passed and no harm had come to me.
I sat up, pinched my arm, and rubbed my eyes,
But it really came as no surprise
That as crazy and wicked as it may seem,
My visitor was not some phantom dream.
"Why," I asked, "Have you come this night
And not slain me like other ghosts might?"
He did not laugh nor growl but sighed,
And he told me about the day he died.
He'd been a knight with a burning heart
For a dear lady, destined to be apart.
On this lonesome island it did occur,
The Island natives came and took her --
His one true love and future bride,
His joy, his desire, and his pride.
So is it not natural that this knight
Might take his sword and run to fight?
He was, after all, a bold and courageous soul,
Though it was not enough to attain his goal.
On the Island's sandy shore,
Not in the battle of some great war,
This brave hero who fought for love
Was turned spectral and disposed of.
What happened to his bride he does not know,
But in his eerie bluish glow
I did see his heart's ghostly plan
To take his revenge on this tropic land.
He left me there with an enlightened tale,
And if I should want to forget, I'd fail,
For what a tragedy that Ghost Lupe hides,
Among the waves of Mystery Island's tides.
Revenge of the Seas
Above the ever-frothing waves
There sails a crew of venom strong,
Their cutthroat methods cruel and true;
To strike fear into the quivering throng.
Their eyes are cold in empty heads,
No souls they care to seek.
For they are fearless, bloodless, strong
And always in the shadows creep.
For there is many a horror told,
That gifts terror to the sleeping,
Of dreadful Captain Scarblade's crew,
To awaken a brave heart weeping.
They leave much carnage in their wake,
A nightmare in the living land.
The terror of the five great seas
Is this cutthroat merciless band.
And to head it all the Captain stands,
A Lupe of shocking green,
His crooked grin and bloodshot eyes
A crazed and deadly scene.
Upon Revenge they all reside,
its hull a looming epitaph,
And if you listen as it comes,
You'll last hear a noxious laugh.
So on the horizon if you dare sight
Those billowing deathly sails,
You would be wise to turn and run;
Before you cannot tell your tale.
The Halloween Lupe
Sharp claws scudding across the ground,
Over a tree trunk with a thudding sound,
Leaping the stream in a single bound,
Runs the Halloween Lupe.
Alert ears and bushy tail,
Finding his way, he never fails.
His body covered in thick brown fur,
Impervious to thorns and burrs.
It's the Halloween Lupe.
The moon shines above him,
Silver and bright,
Casting upon him its ghostly light.
His fluorescent green eyes in the night
Runs the Halloween Lupe.
On he runs, past a creature's lair.
Does it give chase?
Nothing would dare!
Even in these woods there is panic and fear,
When there's a Halloween Lupe.
He picks up his pace,
Wild and free,
Never a creature like him could be
But despite all this, he will still be in trouble,
If he's late home for tea!
Run fast, Halloween Lupe!
The Lupe Against Doom
For there was time of greatest peril
When the seas were dark,
The skies agloom.
And yet, in those dreary times
A hero bloomed.
Crests of red, gleaming honour,
Banners of red and blue --
A sword in tote, shield abreast,
A hero from the dust was groomed.
Standing might, steady breath,
Piercing eyes, hero ablaze!
Head aloft, skyward gaze --
Seeking the horizon where thunder boomed.
Where evil thrived, injustices,
Yet before the smites of light --
These stories woven into timey looms.
Jeran, the Lupe, embodiment of light --
Clean, pure, his heart,
Preventing what will surely be
Neopia's final doom!
They Come for You
Walk swiftly, Harker,
the villagers draw near,
Each one grips his pitchfork and grasps his spear,
They march boldly through the night, without fear,
Step softly, Harker,
make no sudden sound,
Leave no trail of footprints on the ground,
The villagers are turning the other way around,
Travel quietly, Harker,
the flames are almost gone,
To another hiding place you simply must move on,
The night is quickly racing toward a new dawn,
Wait patiently, Harker,
the sun will soon come out,
By daylight you will find another safer route,
Leave behind even the last determined little scout,
Breathe easily, Harker,
you're safe another night,
The sun is coming up, the sky is filled with light,
No need to keep on hiding, dashing out of sight,
The Ghost Lupe
A throaty growl,
a mighty roar,
a sudden flash of grey.
And then, before you look, he's gone --
the Ghost Lupe's gone away.
He wanders here,
he wanders there,
and as to what he seeks --
that nobody living knows;
he's shrouded in mystique.
I've heard it said,
though I'm not sure,
that vengeance is his only goal.
And if that is the case, then best
not cross this wandering soul.
Two hundred years
Ago he lost
His dear and lovely bride;
Two hundred years, but he will not
Forget his burning pride.
Two hundred years --
And surely now
The killers are all gone;
but every day, all through the night,
the Ghost Lupe wanders on.
Total Poetry Pages : 2008
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