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A Note from the Poetry Judge: Here's a special Poetry Gallery in honour of the Almost Abandoned Attic! Enjoy!
The No Longer Abandoned Attic
Beyond the creepy path and Gypsy Camp
Is found Neovia, dark and damp,
A town once cursed is now restored
By the Crumpetmonger and Chesterdrawers.
These businesses draw in the crowds,
The bargain hunters, rude and loud,
Yet while shoppers searched for pies and books,
One abandoned house sat overlooked.
Tucked in by cemetery wall,
One crooked cottage, bare and small,
Suddenly opened wide its door,
Deserted once, but nevermore.
A rush up creaky wooden stairs,
Crowds follow a rumour of hidden wares.
A phantom Aisha welcomes them
To an attic filled to raftered brim.
"Let me know," she says, "if you see
Anything you'd like, it's no use to me."
The crowd grasps and scrambles to take hold
Of Draik Eggs, potions, stamps, and gold.
Who knows how long she was alone,
The Aisha in her attic home,
But visitors are now guaranteed
By the bargain hunters and their greed.
The darkness here
obscures truth as much
as it obscures vision, for the
Attic is far from empty -- as the
lantern's sputtering glow gleams
Its valiant last, every corner bursts
into bright shine; piles upon piles of
treasures, and the keeper of it all, a
fragment of a ghost, a spirit lingering
on this side of eternity, alive only when
the day dies, is awakened by our presence,
and she materialises and floats circlewise
among the wares that she would gladly trade
for friendly company to join her in the dance
of shadows under moonlight.
I almost convinced him to stay with me longer,
And maybe he would have if I had fought harder.
I could've done something, should've been stronger.
Seems almost is never enough to get by.
If only I'd told him the things he'd be missing,
Then maybe I wouldn't be sitting here wishing
For times I can only relive reminiscing.
Is almost enough to avoid a goodbye?
Alone in the attic, I can't help but wonder
What life would be like by the autumn and summer,
With him still around -- but the crash of the thunder
Reminds me that almost cannot answer why.
I stare out the window. Outside it's still raining.
Surrounded by trinkets, the last ones remaining,
I close my eyes, feeling my energy draining.
I almost regret it, then let myself die.
A Light Almost Abandoned
The Woods: a land where vitality is
sealed as its unmarked graves, where
time is jarred forever at the hour
of a full-moon,
Pulsing beasts and reticent glows
best left unexplored by imagination;
dare ignore the instincts and
ethereal whispers, and
soon you may well find yourself
seeing the sole light of
warmth in forest gnarled,
though the gypsies' caravan fire
is not what you seek --
It is the almost-faded path that
you tread, beyond almost-crumbled
stones and an almost-closed gate:
and there you find what
at first stare is the ideal of
when, just almost unseen,
an attic lantern almost abandoned
flares and beckons with
thoughts of light.
The Haunted Attic
There lies a peculiar attic,
in an abandoned Neovian shack,
where a generous Aisha resides;
nothing does she lack.
From books to stamps,
as long as you don't beg,
you can find wondrous items,
even a rare Draik egg!
Of Neopians aged three years,
all are kindly invited.
So come, loyal users,
you'll definitely be delighted!
You'd better be fast,
if you don't hurry,
you'll be last.
Don't be scared,
just come on in!
You're sure to find an item,
that will bring in a smug grin.
I have a new addiction,
seven minutes between sessions.
Rare items for cheap, not fiction,
Draik Egg my obsession.
The new way to restock,
with junk, this shop is never full.
Watching the clock,
F5 is my only tool.
Usukis, morphing potions, gourmet food,
Something quite spooky
that satisfies my mood.
Origami Nova? That was kooky!
The lovely items go so fast!
If you blink you might miss them,
All rare, in mass.
Count Von Roo Plushie? Did you get him?
Never knowing what each refresh will bring;
stamps, books, weapons galore.
Did you see that ring?
It will not be long to hear the lore.
Many things to collect,
that Aisha is so kind.
If I could just select,
I wouldn't lose my mind.
Many things, joy and wonder,
Ghostly Aisha, we give you thanks.
Restock here, it's hard to blunder,
unless you forget to bring a bank.
Ultimate restock, awe... shock,
Thyoras Tear, in all its glory.
Over-refreshed, just my luck,
what a way to end this story.
Total Poetry Pages : 1809
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