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NIMMO DAY SPECIAL
The Baby Nimmo
he seems nothing more
than a splash of water
when you first see him,
and he blends in
as if he were truly one
with the water he swims in
he splashes around
from leaf to leaf,
careening above lilies
skimming the surface
of this sweet pond.
gloriously free of care,
without a ripple
of worry in the world.
for here is his home,
and here he belongs --
a mere splash, perhaps;
but no doubt the happiest
splash of all.
Nimmo of DOOM!
Should you seek a chilling read,
A horror you may share.
Find the tome with Nimmo's gaze,
And read it if you dare.
No other tale grips the heart
Or runs the spine to ice.
Yet chapters urge you to read on,
For story doth entice.
Of Nimmo dark of soul and heart,
With malice doth he tread.
Filling folk with fear and doubt,
Instilling coldest dread.
Some say no sound gives such shock,
As swoop of spanning wing.
Others claim you won't be warned,
You just won't hear a thing.
Crimson gaze like fire burns,
As forth doth creature rise.
Such wickedness, such molten sheen,
Does glow within those eyes.
Some claim he journeyed from afar,
With motives bleak and dark.
Across the skies so endless, cold,
Where shadows dwell so stark.
His plans do seem nefarious,
What does this beast intend?
You just can't guess, you'll never know,
Unless you read the end.
I bid you, friend, do read this book,
In crowded, well-lit room.
For no story doth chill the soul,
Like Nimmo, beast of DOOM!
A Ripple in the Pond
Silent stalker of the dawn
As morning's mist doth rise,
He crouches undetected,
But for two unblinking eyes.
Ever watchful, poised to strike,
His balance never shifts,
Awaiting breakfast patiently,
On lilypad he drifts.
Sticky tongue unfurls to lengths
Unheard of for his size,
And with a single darting move,
He's swallowing his prize.
With the concentration
Of a Neo-fu expert,
Before you blink, he's already
Enjoying his dessert.
The Nimmo's lengthy limbs extend,
With elegance he glides,
A vision of athletic grace,
Into the pond he slides.
No splash of water as he swims
Into the great beyond,
He seems but, to the untrained eye,
A ripple in the pond.
Gorunda the Wise
I heard a rumour that there lives
At the western edge of the Spooky Woods
An aged Nimmo, Gorunda the Wise,
A crone cloaked in cape and hood.
They say this Nimmo does possess
A large book of history
Wherein are written the solutions
To all of Neopia's mysteries.
As I was desperate for the answer
To the question burning on my lips
I did decamp to fetid swamp
And into its mire did slip.
Having been forewarned about
The hidden traps the crone had laid
The snares I dodged, through muck I slogged,
Until her hovel I surveyed.
Gorunda came out to meet me,
Her eyes narrowed warily.
She clutched the fabled book of answers
And pointed her heavy staff at me.
"You have proven yourself worthy,"
Said the hunched and humble crone.
"You have traversed the trap-filled swamp,
Much determination have you shown.
"As reward for completing
This most difficult of tasks
You may ask me any question,
But just one question may you ask.
"Would you like to know how Dr. Sloth
Arrived upon this world?
How Captain Xelqued tricked Fyora?
What caused the Great Whirlpool to swirl?"
I shook my head and answered,
"Yes, it's true that I came far.
But my question is if you happen to know
How to get the new Wishing Well avatar?"
The Ninja Nimmo: Shenkuu's Plight
Silence -- it rings clear
yet the guards of temple tense,
weaponry at hand.
Eyes dart back and forth
in search for a single sign,
a hint of movement.
What is it they seek?
What is it that keeps them still,
alert and waiting?
And then there, black cloth
against the white of the moon,
a glint of the blade.
He is feared, abhorred,
Nimmo clothed in darkened garb,
master of the night.
Brisk are his movements,
tricks of light, they seem to be,
gone a blink away.
Finally, he stood
beneath guarded temple's gate,
a sword in his hand.
Shenkuu's friend or foe?
As guards drew their weapons near,
mystery is solved.
The Ever-Smiling Nimmo
What? Smile, you say?
The robot Nimmo?
You must be mistaken,
For a robot is expressionless, bleak.
He's got shiny orange eyes, yes.
But a straight line for a mouth.
He won't ever smile, I promise you that!
He has a metal heart, hardened with steel.
He won't ever feel for you. Don't even think it.
But he's a lovely creation, don't you think?
All sharp iron toes,
Nimble black fingers.
Legs of painted red.
A body of -- What's this!?
Not in the normal place, for sure!
Come close! Come see!
A smile upon his centre body!
Slightly digitised, yes.
But a smile all the same!
Green font, a colon, parentheses.
A little smile, grinning with
Strange heartbreaking innocence.
What wonder! What surprise!
This Nimmo posts his expressions --
Right where his heart should be!
Under all that heavy casing,
Under all the wires and sparkplugs --
He's got a heart, and it'll beat in time with yours!
Never read into what he says,
But instead into the ever-honest heart.
He puts a new meaning,
To wearing his heart on his sleeve.
Calmly, swiftly, the Nimmo glides,
As lilypads appear from all sides,
He sits silently, as they inch near,
His face has not an ounce of fear.
Then, bam! He shoots, the pad is gone.
He hasn't broken a sweat, just sits and yawns.
More pads appear, he moves fast!
Destroys them all with a single blast!
Now the Nimmo is surrounded by all green,
And yet he stays just as serene,
Till just one lilypad is left,
And then it's gone with a single shot so deft.
He leans back, satisfied with his work,
And stretches with a little smirk,
But while the Nimmo thinks he's done,
He doesn't know that he's barely on level one!
The Balance of a Royal Nimmo
Make a bow for his excellency!
Line up, line up!
For something royal this way comes.
Crane your neck, catch a glimpse!
Of both ruler and scribe,
Oh, scholar and political genius,
Of the balance between social presence
and intellectual studies!
Down the carpeted walkway,
Royal Nimmo walks.
So unlike other royals!
His head among the books
While also imperiously at court.
What be this creature ever so fine?
Royal Nimmo --
All whiskered lips and glinting eyes,
Crimson red, golden yellow,
Dressed in golden arm bands,
Crowned with spikes of solid gold.
He's got a towering presence!
Powerful jumper's legs.
A strategist's mind,
A warrior's body,
A King's fist.
Can any hope to match?
Nimmo Anger Management
Sometimes, it's too hard to contain what's within
Sometimes, we lose control,
And out our emotions begin to spin
And so you have to say "NO!" and take a stroll
While plastering on an utterly fake grin.
The feeling can swell
From your head to your toes
It can travel through the body --
A tickle in your nose --
And it has a conscience, whose mind flows
So you have to say "NO!" and the anger won't grow
And the feeling will be cast below.
It's not melancholy, it's not mutual
But a blast of annoyance or regret
But with Nimmo Anger Management, m'dear
You won't have to fret.
The Shadows' Last Serenade
A lonely Nimmo enters his abode.
The sun has died.
Twilight swallows the world.
Rain beats down upon on Mystery Island,
Drenching all who pass.
A single candle is lit to warm the unforgiving night,
Casting its incandescence on the walls.
Shadows are born, silently dancing across the hut,
greeting the Nimmo in serenade.
The shadows dance in rhythm to nothing,
Creating their own beat as they move.
The Nimmo stares in awe with only
a single thought in his mind:
"How is something so free?"
The shadows spiral aimlessly,
yet flow with the grace of a Shoyru.
The shadows are monotone,
yet hold the beauty of a Acara.
The shadows have no power,
yet move with the strength of a Grarrl.
The shadows dance their serenade.
The shadows flick about and fly in circles.
They climb to the top of the hut,
then pummel downward to the floor.
The shadows surround the Nimmo
casting an unknown beauty
As they dance their serenade.
All of the Nimmo's problems flow out of him.
He is mesmerised and calmed by the shadows.
He stands and joins the shadows
As they dance their serenade.
The Nimmo is empowered as he twirls
and jumps with the shadows.
His problems leave him
and his miserable life changes.
A new life enters his soul
As the shadows dance their serenade.
The Nimmo moves with his first dance while
The shadows dance their serenade.
Their last serenade.
Ssscratch a card,
Extend your finger,
It issssn't hard,
You just need to linger,
Pleassse don't run and hide,
I'm a good Nimmo insssside.
I know my clothesss are tatty,
And my hat'ssss a disgrace,
But let'ssss not get catty,
For I know my place,
I don't pretend to have ssstyle,
But I charm with my ssssmile.
Sssome ssssay I sssound sssneaky,
That my hissss isss unnerving,
That my dialogue'sss freaky,
But I'm ssstill dessserving
Of your cussstom, your money,
So buy a card, sssonny?
The Nimmo Shopkeeper
The books line the shelf, each a dignified hue,
As the customers gaze onward in disbelief,
All pristine to touch, each soft and glazed,
All immune to poor, petty thief.
The Nimmo shopkeeper emerges from door,
Skipping along whilst he reads,
Three books in his hands, all open at once,
Fulfilling his knowledge his only needs.
His face aglow at the stories before him,
Each mystified with tales of creatures,
Of warriors, of maidens of beasts,
Each dignified with blazing features.
He closes all three, for each one is read,
And he continues to browse his shop,
Passing all, for all have been read,
Until at one he reached a stop.
What's this? A book he hasn't read?
It just possibly cannot be!
He had read the shop twice over, you see,
On his beautiful reading spree.
So he clutches the book and returns to sit,
And he opens page one of the text,
Mind flooded with images and ideas,
On what book he could read next!
Total Poetry Pages : 2008
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