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HISSI DAY SPECIAL
The Pounded Darigan Hissi's Plea
Don't be alarmed, do hear me out,
Dismiss my fangs and fearsome snout.
Dwell not upon my jagged scales,
And please look past my whip-like tail.
Before you turn and run away,
I hope you'll listen when I say,
Inside me lies a gentle pet,
The nicest one you've ever met!
I really could (if you would like)
Put pompons on my every spike
And wrap my claws in fluffy gloves,
In hope that I might earn your love.
If I put on a cute disguise
And if I shut my frightful eyes
And wear things made of furry rugs,
Would you then give me a hug?
I'll carry 'round a pink balloon,
And sing a bright and happy tune!
Some cuddly toys won't go amiss
So you might bear to blow a kiss.
I'm very sweet, I never bite,
I'm scared of dark and stormy nights.
The Pound's so lonely on my own,
So please, please, will you take me home?
She lies amid silence,
The rain-swept dump around her
A soaking mess of decay,
Thoughtful she rehearses her credo,
To remind herself of the how and why --
Decay is transformation,
Because nothing truly ends,
Fruit rots to soil, from whence springs
New growth; decay is the smell
Of refuse, but not in that sense:
Decay is the smell
Of life refusing to end.
The day will come when
The surge of these mounds
Of rubbish grey
Will soar green and alive
Into a forest silent under a quiet sky,
And these forgotten puddles coalesce into
A lake mirror-still, and these slopes,
Grow slow and even into
A deep-grassed expanse --
The sequence runs through
An endless refrain,
These small deaths are but a journey
To life renewed again.
Note: This poem was inspired by Storytelling Contest #456.
The Paints of a Sunset
A flourish of iridescent feathers,
Teal and violet tinged with blue,
The wind but a whisper on their tips.
Goaded on by unknown zephyrs,
That first charged forward then withdrew,
Leaving a smile on the Hissi's lips.
Creamy yolks of the slitted eyes,
Lightened with unimaginable joy,
As the four-winged figure banked left,
Into the skies and clouded dyes,
That shone pink and gold by some alloy,
Mixed so finely by a hand most deft.
A streak of light left a fiery mark,
That stretched the breadth of her azure back,
Down to the tip of her swaying tail.
A faerie Hissi painted gold by a spark,
Along with orange and red, a sweet lilac,
From feathery down to the very last scale.
Sunset ends, nightfall descends,
The lithe Hissi falls alongside,
Joined by millions of stars;
Swaying by their invisible threads.
Streamlined wings end their glide,
To rest upon clouds and sleep.
I'm a Hithi
"I'm a Hithi," repeated the baby
In answer to the bully's query.
Her violet cheeks blushed deep crimson;
Her emerald eyes shone wet and teary.
"And, yeth, I know that I look thweet,
And, yeth, I know that I look thmall,
But I really am a full-gwown Hithi
Not jutht a puwple Cobwall.
"And, yeth, I'll tell you oneth again
Even though it maketh you laugh,
But, yeth, I play with Hithi Glidewth,
Hithis-in-a-box and Finger Twaps."
The baby Hissi turned to leave,
Her movements sinuous and slow,
But the bully giggled and jumped to block her
Not wanting to let his victim go.
Eyes narrowing to dangerous slits,
The Hissi faced the bully down.
"I've never athked for twouble," she hissed.
"But we could end thith in the Battledome.
"I'm a Hithi," repeated the baby,
"with Hithi Thtwike and Hithi Wing Blatht,
And, yeth, I play with Hithi Thtickth,
Hithi Blades, Awmour, and an Amulet."
Emerald eyes ablaze with fire,
The baby Hissi fumed with wrath.
The bully stepped back with surprise
And let the baby Hissi pass.
He's naught but a coil in a corner,
an irregularity of colours dulled among
the uniform cream carpet --
a textile loop whose identity
or purpose (aside from domination
of dusty floor) is, to the Neohome guest,
just somewhat baffling.
Is it a pillowcase eccentric?
Or -- this must be it -- a sock.
Yes, an old sock, and a mismatched
one at that, for one such striped
teal/tan commodity of fabric,
complete with a pair
of purple... flap things...
is quite enough a sight in the
absence of a counterpart.
But then you mutter something
of violet caterpillar-eyebrows, and
at that... you could swear it
was an apparition of light, but
your so-called "sock"
has just stuck at you a cheeky
From a Hissi to His Cloak
cloak, you hang in ragged tatters,
flayed from hem to hem in strips;
would that I could mend you,
set you right again.
once, I know, a Hissi wore you,
grandly flowing from his back;
once, I know, I bore you proudly,
for that Hissi, he was me.
cloak, your fabric is now worn to grey,
where once a rich green shone;
the fabric was strong and sure,
and now is showing silky thin.
you have seen some better days,
and still with fondness I do recall,
the escapades we had together,
my faithful cloak and I.
ragged Hissi cloak, so grand once,
memories are steeped in your essence,
calling out to me in reminder;
I dedicate you these words,
that you might know,
just how much you meant to me,
and still will always do.
The Hissi Day Hoax
What do you mean, I can't join in?
How dare you bar a Hissi's way?
ALL Hissi can parade -- I win!
Step back! Today is Hissi Day!
What's this? Good sir, please step aside.
What part of this did you not hear?
I've crowds to wave to, floats to ride,
For I'm a Hissi. Is that clear?
I'm not a Ruki, of all things,
For Rukis, unlike me, have feet.
They have antennae and lack wings,
Which slice the air with every beat.
My wings are cardboard? Sir, you jest!
These wings are real, smooth, and strong.
You see a Hissi at his best.
Cardboard? No, sir. You've got it wrong!
My mouth does not move when I talk
Thanks to an ancient evil spell.
My tail clatters when I walk
Because I am not feeling well.
My eyes are still and do not blink
Because I stayed up late last night.
This line here looks like tape, you'd think,
But it's a scar from a grand fight.
Now that I've made my species plain,
Show me the Hissi's free buffet!
There's none? All my work was in vain?!
Goodbye then, and... Good Hissi Day.
In Honour of My Mutant Hissi
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
My Hissi is grumpy, largely unhappy.
His name, Lurkxy, fits his sulking mood.
As he slithers in stride with my booted steps,
I never know what he truly thinks.
When offered Petpets, he will snarl.
Both heads will snap and growl,
His red eyes are enraged. Glitter. Gleam.
His tough thick hide is like his heart,
Impenetrable. Powerful. Thorny.
He's thick-skinned, yes, but I love him all the same.
He's a scary sight to behold -- that's for certain.
Four eyes will glare you to pieces. Paralyse. Freeze.
I wish to see him smile.
He's a mutant, pure and simple.
He's not rainbows and gumdrops,
Or silly grins and shameless laughter.
He's deep, profound, thoughtful.
Always lost in thought.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder --
Of this I am now for sure --
For beneath the scaly hide,
He has a magnetic soul,
Arresting brilliance, utter courage
To stand and face the odds,
Against the tide. As a mutant.
He has a shattering beauty -- special.
A beautiful heart.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
And for this,
He is allowed to be sour,
But only every now and then.
Cave of the Hissi
You'll find a cave on the highland.
Off the coast of Krawk Island,
On a peninsula lost in time,
After three days' walk and two days' climb.
And into the mountain you must depart,
The rock lips of the grotto part,
Once the secret pattern is drawn.
Letters form words almost foregone.
And the red clay and black rock blend.
Hot air cushions you as you descend,
Water seeping into your clothes and skin.
Go forth until the light grows thin.
In venerable darkness, you play no role.
Deep from within the hole,
Sound erupts -- the flapping of wings,
They hiss the language of kings.
Barely grazing your face you are gifted amnesty.
Thousands of eyes, glowing with majesty,
A sudden screech and an unexpected gust,
A musky smell and shadows into the air are thrust.
You sink into the damp clay as they embark,
Swiftly they circle, higher into the endless dark,
Their screeches and hisses grow powerful,
Bouncing off the rock walls, the sound is deceitful.
As suddenly as it began, a silence caps the clamour,
Like candle snuffed or insect crushed by hammer.
You are left alone on your knees in the clay,
Alone in the dark with only memories of the display.
Crossing the Desert Sands
Sinuous and twisting shape
Sleek and scaly form
Slithering over desert sand
By shining sunlight warmed
The whispery hissing of the winds
That scorch travellers so
Is but a soft sweet symphony
That soothes you as you go
Desert Hissi, sure and swift
Not once do you get lost
The silver, shimmering moon's risen
The Lost Desert you've crossed
Your journey is now finished
You sink in restful sleep
What dreams shall you have, regal Hissi,
As you slumber sweet and deep?
You lie still, scarcely stirring, yet
The sand is in your soul, it seems
Long journeys through vast hot deserts
Compose the shape of your dreams.
Wishes and Dreams
I am a mysterious and coveted creature;
I have wishes and dreams of my own,
Today the greatest of which I shall tell.
Hope not to confuse my flight
With predisposed notions of capability,
For it is not on slow ground, but in air that I fly,
Soaring at night in the pale cast of moon.
My wings spread I cast shadows below.
Or perhaps my grandest scheme
Lies in my thoughts and secret design,
For the reign of my kind and the rule of the skies
To harden my scales and sharpen my claws,
The greatest Hissi yet to be seen.
But my greatest wish is for all to know me as Hissi,
To keep wide company despite my rare structure
I desire to see all of Neopia, all from every land.
Let them not be fooled by the glow from my eyes
And see not darkness, as the wary advise,
But under my scales, fangs, wings, and claws
A curious nature inside.
An Encounter with the Ghost Hissi of Geraptiku
"Rawr! Me hungry!" he exclaims,
His wings and jaws spread wide.
He has no title, has no name;
In this tomb he resides.
The ghostly Hissi, spectral;
He never seems appeased.
As wraithlike shadows move and swirl,
He looks a bit displeased.
"What's wrong?" I ask him. "Why so glum?
Have I done something wrong?"
"No, no," he answers. "Listen, chum:
I feel I don't belong.
When I appear and state my hunger,
The pets all run away.
I wish they'd stay just a bit longer.
My life's in disarray.
No one ever stays to chat
Or have a cup of tea.
They see me, and in no time flat,
They oh-so quickly flee."
"There, there," I tell him. "Don't be sad.
I'll gladly be your friend.
I'm not scared; in fact, I'm glad
I met you 'round this bend."
"Oh, really?" he says. "You'd do that?
You aren't at all afraid?"
"No, not one bit!" His head I pat.
"I'm truly glad I stayed."
And so we are now best of pals,
The Ghost Hissi and I.
And now, within this grim locale,
I've found a new ally.
A Shadow Hissi
Scales softly gliding,
A glimpse of a tail
A lithe body sliding.
small wings flutter gently
the coiling Hissi swerves
inscribing a figure
within his dark curves.
Jet black -- black as new coal,
and his luminous eyes
fix on me, and I am held still,
frozen, and paralysed.
A forked tongue flickers out
and shivers, tasting the air,
and I shiver too,
feeling the depth of his stare.
Fluidly twisting, he turns
the sinuous length of his tail,
Beautiful, and deadly,
Fang, and feather, and scale.
Over and around
Wings bursting into flight,
and the Hissi vanishes
Disappears through the night.
Hissi Day, as Expressed Through Alliterations
Scales sliding through the sky,
Signing the sparkling sun
With a stirring signature.
The stratocumuli sigh with spite.
Moiling through mud and mushrooms;
Moving mutely through murkiness.
Moehogs and Myncis moan.
Miserably and measly they mope.
What causes this covetous catastrophe?
Can a creature be so cold?
The whole country casts out cheerfulness
And clutches to quiet craving.
It's Hissi day, you silly dolt!
Dance, dart, and disco!
Don't let envy and discontent
Damper your Hissi delight.
Watch the Hissi wheel
Through the wide, winsome welkin.
Oh, to be a winning Hissi
Would be wonderfully without wretchedness!
Let it be Hissi Day
And do not look lamentable!
Limbo and line dance and even the lindy
Play into the lovely luau.
Rays recede behind rough rises.
Today's rally has gone from rude resentment
To radiant rejoicing in respect.
And when the refulgence retires,
We ruminate upon the Hissi.
Total Poetry Pages : 1984
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