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ANNUAL GORMBALL CHAMPIONSHIPS SPECIAL
The Gormball Circle
Round in circles, watch it go,
This ball that's filled with slime.
Round in circles, watch the show,
As players pass the time.
Round in circles, pass it off.
Your turn to get the ball.
Round in circles, decisions are tough,
How long to wait is your call.
Round in circles, wait a bit.
Two seconds, three, four, or five.
Round in circles, the ball's in your mitt.
Do you throw it or take a dive?
Round in circles, gauge the players,
Ember, Thyassa, or Kevin.
Round in circles, make sure all's fair,
Between Ursula, Brian, and Farvin.
Round in circles, it's crunch time now.
You don't want to be covered in gunk.
Round in circles, to you -- and POW!
Guess this Championship you didn't have luck.
Tension fills the autumn air,
Excitement on the breeze,
Eight figures gather on the grass
With confidence and ease.
Sheer talent and agility
Is certain to enthrall,
For on this field is crowned today
The champion of Gormball.
Twelve long months of sweat and tears
Have led up to this day,
But one wrong hesitation here
Can wash their hopes away.
One by one, the ball is passed.
Each breath is held in tight,
Counting seconds on the clock
Before the ball takes flight.
Feel its cold exterior,
A flawless azure shell,
Gaze deep in its reflection
And upon its beauty dwell.
Precious seconds tick away,
Until a quick explosion
Leaves you soaking in dismay.
The game of chance continues on
As one by one they fall,
'Til on the field just two remain
To answer glory's call.
Outstretched arms lift up to
Intercept the Gormball's path,
But, to the crowd's excitement,
All they're catching is a bath.
Early one day, some children came out to play,
One carrying a large ball, in a fragile way.
It was sloshing with water, ready to explode,
Suddenly "PLAAAAAAAY BALL!" another crowed.
Tossing the ball around, these children did,
When it exploded, the one holding it would be rid.
One by one, each would be soaked,
Each one would look quite provoked.
This continued for quite some time,
So long it was, though the fun was sublime,
Until one emerged victor, indeed quite proud,
Shouted, "I WON!" in a tone quite loud.
At last, I knew what they played...
It was GORMBALL, that they played!
One Second Too Long
Brian's Gormball history was bad,
He wasn't the champ yet.
His one big win, he'd rigged the ball,
A scandal none forget!
But now it seemed he had a shot,
This round was going great!
He felt excitement, building up,
He'd win fast at this rate!
Ember was ruled out so soon,
(A Gormball gone astray!)
Kevin had been drenched as well,
And could no longer play.
The Grundo chef was strong, of course,
But Aisha soon got wet.
Brian wouldn't hide his smuggest grin,
He wasn't beaten yet!
'That Grundo chef is not that good!'
Bold Brian thought as he threw.
'Hold it long so HE gets wet,
That's just what I should do!'
After Grundo's quickest grasp,
Brian felt the Gormball flop.
He held it (and did hold his breath),
Then counted, 1, 2, POP!
So sad but true Brian soon was drenched,
Where had it all gone wrong?
The lesson is, in Gormball games,
You shouldn't wait too long!
A Poem/Letter to the Next Gormball Champion
I hope this reaches you
in the best of health
and that you haven't been splattered
I hope you've made it
past the first round
and that fire faerie's been eliminated
(I don't like her face)
I hope you held on
to that Gormball for five seconds
like I told you to because
risk-taking usually works
I hope you win that title
I hope you don't lose
pathetically like last year
(it got pretty bad)
I hope you're sure of this
because I'd like you to know
that Neopoints are at stake here
so losing is not okay
I hope you liked it.
I've never been too good at games.
More like I never tried, because saw no aim,
Other than win, win, win and that's all.
No, books and learning were more my call!
But I have a dilemma, causing me much fear,
The Annual Gormball Championships draw near.
I honestly admit I don't know how to play!
It'll turn out to be quite an embarrassing day,
Would it be less embarrassing to simply quit?
Unless... unless I learn to use my amazing wit!
I can learn and make plans by simply reading,
And get the upper-hand by being misleading!
"How to Be a Gormball Champ"
Psh, that Gormball won't even get me damp!
Now to study up on that skilled playing crew:
Gargarox Isafuhlarg? I'll put him in his own brew;
Farvin III? Back to his planet he'll be blown;
Ember? Pretty sure she's currently stone;
Brain and Kevin? Not even considered a match;
Zargrold? HA, can't even make a catch;
Ursula? Go train some more,
None will be prepared for what I have in store.
Thyassa worries me because of his fame,
But this year he won't win this game.
I'm prepared and ready, my hands shake,
As the Gormball Trophy, today, home I take!
Thoughts on Farvin III and the Gormball Championships
for the last time
in a puddle of shame
with a river of sweat
mixed with tears
the Gormball smacks
one last time
a soaked Aisha dripping
is so close
but lost again
on its way
to the game
are black smears
lost faith begs
on its knees
in the dirt
is another chance
and who knows
Of the Gormball Championships
The Gormball flies across the sky,
Followed by the crowd's great cry!
Up and down, a liquid sphere,
Goaded on by a rowdy cheer,
Shining like a lovely pearl,
Filled with water in a whirl.
There it goes, a bluish thing,
Cast like a mere plaything.
One by one -- the crowd is hushed,
Up until the ball is gushed --
In a beat of silent dread,
The bubble breaks on Kevin's head!
With a song the orb does fly,
It was Ember's strong reply.
Arching through the crispy air,
The Gormball breaks upon the hair,
Ursula's out, Zargrold too,
Dripping wet -- drenched in dew.
Cheers erupt from simple talks,
For soaked next is Gargarox.
Farvin's flooded, so is Ember,
Till two remain within chamber --
Brian the Scorchio, a fiery sort,
And Thyassa the Chia, a champion sport.
Between the two the ball is thrown,
Back and forth, for the throne,
Until at last the Gormball bursts,
(Enough to quench the deepest thirsts!)
Behold, the champion remains!
The glorious title Brian attains!
The crowd hollers with delight,
At the proud, victorious sight!
They hug with joy, they clasp hands,
Cheers ring throughout the lands.
Thus ends the expectant grip
Of the Gormball Championships!
A game of skill,
A game of speed,
Agility of mind,
Quick as a Tigermouse
Or something of the kind.
A game of power,
Strength of being.
To claim the victory
Of the spin of winning.
A game of luck,
The sixth sense.
A battle of chance,
Dire and intense.
A game of glory
Tied down to destiny.
This Alien Farvin III
By Mamasimios and Napoleon_dynamites
Just who is this alien, Farvin III?
Did he play Gormball on his distant world?
What of his family, Farvins the second and first?
Were they athletes in their corner of the universe?
Whatever this Aisha's unknown origin,
He has learned to play Gormball like a champion,
Waiting and catching and feinting and tossing,
The Gormball released just in time for a washing.
They say his advantage is his six sensitive ears
And some faint signal from the Gormball he hears,
Some slight indication it's about to explode
Tells him just when to toss the unstable payload.
Could it be that Year 4's suspicious ear infection
Was his opponents voicing their objections?
It's unproven, but perhaps the incessant lavage
Drove the other players to furtive sabotage.
No matter -- he has spent the last year in training
And soon the exploding Gormballs will be raining
Upon his opponents like a meteor shower,
Extinguishing Ember and her fire powers.
Brian will be soaked in spite of his cheating,
And Ursula Usul will be in for a beating.
Kevin and Thyassa and Zargrold the COOL
Will join Gargarox as wringing-wet fools.
But if this alien, this Farvin III,
Should miscalculate when to let the ball hurl,
And the Gormball explodes in front of his eyes,
At least Farvin's helmet will keep his ears dry.
The Gormball Championship has arrived,
And the fans are making quite a din,
For they're eager to watch the sport,
And bet on who'll win.
Who will be number one this time?
Who will take the trophy this year?
Who will come in dead last,
And who will make the winner's tier?
Ember is a sure contender --
That is, if she's not turned to stone!
For she's usually quite the contender,
I dearly hope that she's not gone.
But Brian too is a skilled one,
This Scorchio is hard to beat!
For while his skills are evident,
He also really likes to cheat.
Ursula may also be a winner this year,
For I heard she's training very hard:
Her determination is unswaying:
I hope that it pays off in reward!
Zargrold, Farvin III, Thyassa, and more
Are also all aiming for that champion's bliss,
Such excitement and anticipation:
This is a game that you cannot miss!
A Bad Day for Gormball
We dash and scramble to find
The perfect moment to throw the ball,
For to be the one it selects to burst
Is not a good feeling at all.
The blue Gormball zips
Across a field so full of grass
From Gargarox to Ursula to Kevin,
And, of course, to Brian and all of his sass.
Oh, but what a year for this celebration;
The timing just isn't right!
For this year in the world of Gormball
A plot has taken flight.
The crowd lines up to watch the game,
Eager to see who will take the win,
But it is fairly obvious to see
That there is a serious problem within.
Seconds into the game, Brian tosses the ball,
And everyone in the audience lets out a groan.
It sure is difficult to play in a tournament
With a fire faerie made of stone!
A Tear for My Sisters
My mind's far away as the ball bursts again
To shower my skin like the last summer rain.
I can't make a show of competing today;
I go through the motions. My mind's far away.
I should have been there, in my fierce, fiery beauty,
Just one more lovely girl in the crowd. It's my duty.
I never replied, and no-one seemed to care
That I'd been invited. I should have been there.
And now they're all gone, in the blink of an eye,
While I survive, hidden two hundred miles high.
I was always the careless, rebellious one,
Too good for them all. And now they're all gone.
Am I really the last of my beautiful race?
My shabby sports clothes make me feel a disgrace
To Fyora's proud memory, lost to the past.
I can't make it mine. Am I really the last?
Whenever I sleep I see faces of stone
And curse the dark forces that left me alone.
I watch over my silent, lost sisters, and keep
A vigil in nightmare whenever I sleep.
The tears blind my eyes like Space Station light.
Fyora, if you hear me, don't give up this fight.
I'd die just to hear your bright wings in the skies,
Broken free from your prison. Tears blind my eyes.
I play one more game, for it's all I can do.
Each day is another I have to get through.
I have to live on, bearing my Faerie name.
For the sake of my sisters, I'll play one more game.
The Splash of Gormball
Eight figures stand in a circle,
Eyebrows together, fingers tense,
With twitchy tails, the air of static.
A big blue orb,
Shiny, beautiful, watery --
Darkness lurked under its sheen.
On the whistle --
On the count of two --
The orb thrown high --
Falling comet, dangerous too,
Blueness defined, one orb of light --
Eclipses the sun, briefest of flashes.
It's in your hands --
Fallen with a thump --
Sweat trails down your arms.
What's your next move?
Five seconds? Three?
Caution thrown to the winds --
The ball does not fly --
For the darkness inside --
Has finally decided...
Total Poetry Pages : 2008
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