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The Books! They're Flying Off the Shelves!
The books! They're flying off the shelves!
(Of course they can't do it by themselves.)
It's because of a Yurble librarian
Who is really quite the contrarian!
He says he wants you to organise
The messy volumes in the Archives,
But when you place them, safe and sound,
He comes and flings them to the ground.
Okay, you say you'll try again,
To figure out the strange system
And take incongruous volumes
And store them in adjoining rooms.
You study each book's printed spine
And sort them into four straight lines,
And once you think they're looking well,
You stand back, proud, and ring the bell.
The books! They're flying off the shelves!
Thanks to the cantankerous Yurble.
He turns and stomps back up the stairs
And leaves you, slackjawed, standing there.
Do they need to be numerical?
Colour-coded or alphabetical?
One thing you know: don't court anger,
Don't ring that bell until you're sure!
A Shadow Spectre Brute's Lament
To Brightvale I came with the rest, looking to fight,
Ready to tear my enemies to shreds.
But none counted on those heroic Neopets' might,
And before them, we all unwound like threads.
Wave after wave, these heroes we attacked,
But they effortlessly broke our ranks.
Called to help more Brutes into a corner backed,
I went forward, not expecting a thanks.
My body broke at a Ylana's Blaster's beam,
I only unleashed a scream so rattling.
My death served no purpose, so it would seem,
Other than earn you points from battling.
As I lay on the cold Battledome floor, defeated,
The pet who had faced me whooped with joy.
They cried about a cap to the seated,
My battle was a game and I, a toy.
I don't know what my intentions were,
I was only created for a war.
But in my defeat, a thought did occur;
What are we, but just part of a plot score?
Such the life of a Shadow Spectre Brute,
But why bother with all that, we have loot!
Hanso: Brynn's Perspective
I know you're a thief
With a past that you can't undo;
You're reckless beyond belief,
And your morals are askew.
As a guard it is my job
To carry out and enforce
Your punishment when you rob
Neopians without remorse.
Yet all those times
We've encountered, I knew
That despite your crimes
There was much more to you.
The others want you locked away;
They simply cannot see,
Thief or not, you won't betray
The faeries, guards, or me.
Maybe it's a mistake
To place my trust in you
When so much is at stake,
And you haven't proven true.
No, it may not be smart,
But I know deep inside,
A hero lurks within your heart
Full of honour and pride.
So please don't let me down.
Hanso, we're counting on you.
The others will come around
When they see all you can do.
The faeries need you to be free;
All Neopia may need you too,
So show them what you can be,
Show them the real you.
The Finneus J. Scrollbottom Auxiliary Surplus Archives
Ancient words strewn about,
Lying helpless and broken on the ground.
Who will save them, I ask?
One young, small Kougra guard
Destined to search for the secrets of old
To lift the faerie's fall.
But woe for those who search,
The library lies in sad disrepair,
Scattered and lost to thee.
Books mingle between rooms,
Colours of spines, shapes start to merge;
Confusion still persists.
A heart that is pure and true
Faithfully begins to search for clues
To save all of Neopia.
'Twas it Nox who did it,
Who sent the wraiths to pursue our hero?
One book will surely tell.
But where is this lost book?
Lost among the endless rows of knowledge,
Look hard and true, young one.
Shadow Wraith Minion
Sunset comes to the Neopian sky,
Heroes gather to rest;
Amid the shadowed forest,
Darkness begins its quest.
Only the mighty can fight
Wraiths of evil and bring light.
Worthless creatures, servants of death,
Rage through the endless night.
Another falls, but more shall rise
In this cursed land of plight.
Terror strikes deep in every heart,
Heroes are made, the cowards depart.
Millions battle the endless stream,
Igniting hope with daylight's arrival;
No shadow could ever prevail,
Indeed, good is favoured for survival.
Once evil has left this land,
Neopia returns, enduring and grand.
Total Poetry Pages : 1984
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