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Nine Times 50, But Not Yet Ten
This same time one calendar ago,
I sat down and thought, and
I wrote and I wrote
and I rhymed --
of Weewoos white and
of a certain Four Hundred
and all in between.
(I wrote in the dead of night then,
too, as I do now, though
not by the light of the moon,
as I would like to say;
and some notions prefer
to visit in the dark than day,
such as numbers.)
Time gallops as it
perceives delight, and in
a few clock-ticks it'll seem
like our Neopian Times is already
boasting 450 -- but
one might say
what a wavering
number that is, nine times
fifty but not yet ten,
penultimate before Five
Hundred and not quite there --
But I say,
nine will do as fine as ten
or twelve or thirty-nine,
and proven when there is still
at least one resolved someone
tapping quietly away in
honour of our Times,
even in the dead of night.
...Though really not by moonlight.
is when you've just missed
that shiny stamp in the shop
by a fraction of a second.
is when you drop your Neopet
off at the Pound and
he's gone the next day you visit.
is when that snazzy new shirt
retires in the NC Mall
just days before you wanna buy it.
is when you find yourself at the
Soup Kitchen, having minestrone
for the third week straight.
Tragedy Tragedy Tragedy
Neopia's full of Tragedy --
enough to make Thyora weep,
a Werelupe howl,
and Boochi bawl his eyes out.
The Mystery of Snorkle Snouts
So cute and round, little Snorkles:
Petpets more adorable you cannot find,
But how could that horrid Snorkle Snout dish arise?
Here, the mystery will attempt to unwind.
Perhaps one day a Kacheek farmer
Found that Snorkle Snouts were quite delicious,
And decided to share the recipe abroad,
For he'd hate to be greedy and selfish.
Or perhaps a starved mutant Chia
Gobbled up a Snorkle but left the snout,
And a wandering cook decided to make a dish
Of the thing, though filled with a little doubt.
But likelier than all the rest
Is that Snorkle Snouts are not really snouts after all,
But a mixture of oddities, shaped accordingly,
Otherwise, wouldn't the PPL squall?
So perhaps the haunted food, Snorkle Snout,
Remains a mystery still today,
But watching adorable Snorkles root in the mud
Will keep me far from that food, I'll say!
Ode to a Fashionista
An artist of fashion, a palette of clothes,
And an eye trained for beauty and style,
Creations of elegance, chic unsurpassed,
Designed to bemuse and beguile.
Step into her closet, where magic unfolds,
Transformations around every bend,
An endless procession of racks, floor to ceiling,
With outfits to match every trend.
Sparkling sequins inlaid upon lace,
Velvet ribbons that reach to the floor,
Garments that speak of impeccable taste
Guarantee that you'll come back for more.
She expertly scours through dresses and wigs,
Shoes to take you wherever you go,
A Spyder Web Staff and some Gingerbread Wings,
And to finish, a Prissy Miss Bow.
Need something more suited to sail the high seas?
This Uni can offer that too.
A Sea Captain Superpack's just what you need,
And she'll throw in a Fake Sloth Tattoo.
As day comes to close, she's exhausted but proud
Of Neopian style come true,
Don't be fooled into thinking that fashion's a breeze,
It isn't easy being faboo.
Thanks for the 450 Issues
The Poetry Contest is for those with rhymes;
The Art Gallery is for those who can draw.
For any writers there's the Neopian Times,
And for 450 issues we've been filled with awe.
A special thank you to the Weewoo of white
And of course to Droplet, we love you!
Let's not forget the authors who write --
Without you and the Times, Neopia would be blue!
Thanks for all the laughs, thrills, and fun
Every week the great work leaves us wanting more.
A nice joke each year, like the town of Goldrun;
Who could forget the moustaches and Faerie War?
To all you at work it's more than a game,
And for 450 weeks this has been clear.
Now 500 is your new aim --
Sweet Fyora, it's only one more year!
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