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KORBAT DAY SPECIAL
A voyage across Neopia,
The seas I take due east.
A dark land I stumble upon;
'Tis the land of the deceased.
I hear howls in the distance,
As I'm watching where I step.
A mysterious old land this is,
Harbouring a secret well kept.
Leaves rustle in the wind,
As something swoops overhead.
A Draik? An Eyrie? A KAU!?
I wish I were back in bed!
I turn around to look,
Surrounded in black haze.
I'm greeted by a shadow,
Amidst the full moon's gaze.
Groaning sounds surround me,
But I mustn't turn to listen,
The shadow chugs toward me,
Its tiny eyes do glisten.
Panic overcomes me,
As I gulp in anticipation.
The creature that has greeted me
Is versed in echolocation!
With large pink ears,
And claws like a cat.
With razor-sharp wings,
This creature is a Korbat!
It's probably more scared of me,
For I am a stranger.
My heartbeat starts to slow;
I know he means no danger.
From beneath his wing,
He presents me with something.
Trick or treat, I say --
Halloween must be coming!
It's a special day for Korbats,
And for this we'll be reflecting
How fantastic these creatures are
On this 26th day of Collecting.
Korbat, Fly High
Korbat, oh Korbat, I'd love for you to fly
High above the others in the clear blue sky.
Is it just another impossible dream,
Or can reality actually find its way in?
I hold you up by your flimsy wings,
Dangling you on a thin piece of string,
But if only the wind would give its blessing
Then I would definitely be dancing and prancing.
With your cute, round eyes and a pointed tail,
I'm sure with practice you'll prevail.
Simply climb up a tree and leap from its branch,
Then flap your wings and you'll have a chance.
Although you're small and soft and clumsy,
Although you're old and battered and flimsy,
You'll always be more than a plushie in my eyes.
Korbat, oh dear Korbat: please, fly high!
Wings of Darkness
Where Citadel so idle dwells,
In clutch of midnight sky,
The thunderclouds like warning signs,
Do darkly circle by.
There where sunlight doesn't shine,
Where nothing good may be,
He dwells, a fixture in the sky,
From whom fair creatures flee.
The span, the width of leathered wings
That part the howling breeze,
Sliding through the onyx sky,
The creature soars with ease.
A sentinel in shadowed clouds,
Who watches all below.
With malice do the dark eyes gleam,
With bitterness, they glow.
He pays no heed to chilling wind,
No mind to utter dark.
He relishes the freezing cold,
Embraces night so stark.
Loyal only to the one,
Who rules the Citadel.
What he guards no one dare guess,
And he won't wish to tell.
Darigan, the midnight realm,
In sky there does he stalk.
Taking in things that he hears,
All secrets from loose talk.
Nobody knows what keeps him there,
Nobody could guess why.
Yet he dwells where darkness lives,
A nightmare in the sky.
Interview with a Korbat
Clop. Clop was an easy opponent to beat,
But meeting Barallus was my desired feat.
I had no interest in Cellblock as a game.
Idly waiting until the right time came,
To finally question Barallus.
"Make your move," he said with a shout,
"Either make your move or just get out!"
"Wh-why are you in chains," I said very slow,
"Manage to beat me, and I'll let you know."
No choice did I have, and the game began.
And just like Clop he fell for my plan.
After my easily won victory again I asked,
But he looked different and aghast.
His eyes were swollen bright red,
And "Move on now," was all he said.
I mistakenly goaded him to answer me,
And with a swipe of his tail he let me see.
He looked unlike any other Korbat;
Fierce, savage, cruel, merciless.
I shall spend Korbat Day in fear,
But for Lord Darigan I will cheer:
For keeping this menace locked.
The Korbat Who Couldn't Hang
"Isabel," her Korbat friends would say,
"Maybe, just maybe one day--
If you try your absolute best,
You'll be able to hang like all the rest."
But weeks went on and although she tried,
Through thick and thin, many tears cried,
Poor Isabel just couldn't hang from a tree
And was the laughingstock of Korbat society.
While all her friends rested high above,
On the ground Isabel slept it off,
The longing to be like all her friends,
And hang like a Korbat from the branches' ends.
It soon became the norm that Isabel was frail,
A Korbat who couldn't sleep hanging from her tail!
But what Isabel had from the rest of her kind
Was a keen brain and a very quick mind.
So one day, sick of never hanging,
She scurried off and did some planning.
Why should she sleep up in a tree
Instead of resting comfortably?
A few weeks later Isabel gloated all around
About her newly built home right on the ground.
The other Korbats mocked Isabel, so clever,
But grumbled bitterly at the bad weather.
Continuing to laugh at Isabel, they were uncouth,
But secretly they all could have done with a roof.
And so now it's the norm to find
That Korbats are like every other kind.
Sleeping in the trees is all good fun,
But keeping off the rain is better in the long run!
The Mutant Korbat
Warily did I approach,
Skittish like a tiny Moach,
Poor weak wings, they trembled so,
A shade of my fear, a beating echo.
The potion was black, silky, inviting,
The battering wings were somewhat exciting,
And yet I recoiled and touched not the cork,
My jarred fingers refused to work.
At last I clenched both fist and jaw,
Until my palms were clammy and raw,
And yanked open the bottle with feverish haste,
Ignoring the acrid, burning taste.
At once my flesh began to twist,
Claws erupted from my fist,
My eyes grew large, blue wings blossomed,
My tail was made thick, forked and numbed.
Dirty green fur, silky blue ears,
Only compounded my earlier fears,
I was a mutant, a caricature,
A freshly made, powerful creature.
All was as I was told,
Knotted muscle, thoughts were bold,
I was mighty, I was strong.
But I was also unspeakably wrong.
Celebrate for the Korbats
Today is the day of the Korbat,
And it's an awesome one at that!
They have wings that glide
That enable them to hide
In the dark caves that surround
On green mounted ground.
They have ears that detect noise,
And a steady and gracious poise.
They can detect anything from afar,
Including a shooting star!
Oh, how wonderful Korbats are,
No other Neopet like these is on par!
It's the day of the Korbat today,
You can hear them singing as they play!
So nimble they are, fast and ready,
Yet then again, they are rather steady.
Their ears begin to twitch in their delight,
As hordes of them fly about at night.
So wonderful are these creatures that you see,
It's easy to see what they mean to you and me,
For Korbats are wonderful in every way,
So let us celebrate their fantastic, special day!
The night sky is dark --
Almost too dark to see,
Except for those whose eyes
Can see through the blackest darkness.
The Korbat flies
His wings outstretched,
Air rushing past,
Trees' branches skimming his toes.
He is cold,
Chilled to the bone,
But he doesn't care,
For the exhilaration drowns it out.
He forgets everything
About all of his hardships at home
In the joy of flight,
The only time he is truly happy.
Suddenly, his wings give
And he tumbles to the earth,
His body a crumpled heap,
Slowly, his eyes open
To reveal a tall figure,
Standing over him
Holding a net.
He has been caught.
No more freedom.
No more happiness.
No more flying.
The Korbat Who Touched the Moon
Slowly, the moon crept
and pounced upon the sun.
It thwarted the rays
of piercing, blinding light
& stilled the laughter
of the daytime dwellers.
My eyelids eased open,
my wings gently unfurled.
The Vernax's soft chirp
filtered through the woods
& the glow of Lightmites
danced in my eyes.
I dropped from my branch,
wings beating against the hard air,
gentle touch of moonlight
playing in my fur.
I flew higher and higher,
the coldness chilling my bones.
My wings felt weak,
heavy and slow.
I pushed and I stretched,
and held out my hand
to the softly glowing light.
That night, I swear,
I touched the moon.
A Korbat Experience
Flitter, flutter goes the Korbat,
and I bet you did not know that
Korbats are smart and graceful too,
and they can do nothing to harm you!
My pet, an Aisha, is quite afraid
of Korbats and things that live in caves
in the endless dark and dreary spaces
where one imagines grabbing hands and faces.
But one day you see, I took a walk through
the Haunted Woods around the hour of two.
It was dark, and though I could see
many Korbats above, there was no fear in me.
One stopped and smiled and tilted his head,
squeaked and flew off then to a dead
tree to where other Korbats were sitting.
I think this experience is fitting!
For Korbats are cute, this is what I feel,
a friendly and playful atmosphere is the real
truth. Though they live in the Haunted Woods,
their personalities are truly kind and good!
Happy Korbat Day!
The Korbat Researcher
Behold the Korbat Researcher
With his great taste in literature.
His countenance is quite contrary
While he works in the library.
On tattered wings he flies around,
Tossing volumes to the ground,
Tearing pages from the books
While barely giving them a look.
Loose papers fly on windy gusts,
While he grimaces with plain disgust.
Who knows what research brings him here
To stomp and chomp and jeer and sneer?
What causes the Korbat to behave
In such an unconventional way?
What answers can he hope to find
In the books he leaves with broken spines?
Does he know Mauvara, the dark faerie?
Did she send him to this library?
Perhaps his golden key unlocks
The riddle of some artful plot.
If the Korbat is sincere
In his efforts as a researcher,
I think he would find much more wisdom
If he read the books instead of eating them.
Say, you know
those faeries who used to sing
and waltz these skies?
Like stars they were, stars
who knew more
than just gold light and white light;
they knew the
wisteria (of the lilies),
(of the morning fields);
the apricot (of the sunsets), and
teal (of the seas).
And such lustre would
speck our skies,
never twice the same nor
just once coming.
We knew their
names, and the trill of their
song-like laughter --
But now the night is
dark once more, and we, the
forgotten that this,
is how things once were...
But whoever thought
that the time would come when
again we'd have these
nights to ourselves?
The Mutated Korbat
Lord Darigan --
ruler of Darigan Citadel,
He tried so hard
to keep grasp
of who he truly was.
He turned savage
When King Skarl,
power, captured the orb,
peace and stability,
turning them dark
His land was torn
from the ground he once
touched, smelled, remembered,
now hovering over Meridell.
He would mutter under his breath
how he had to
retrieve the orb for his
The people who once
knew no war
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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