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AISHA DAY SPECIAL
He quivered with fear,
Uncertain about his decision.
Whether he wanted to change,
He did not know.
He grasped the potion firmly,
Taking one last look in the mirror.
Reflected back at him was an Aisha,
Striped with lavender.
Swallowing his doubts,
He uncapped the brew.
Warm liquid flowed down his throat,
Like a waterfall
Plummeting into the unknown.
Tingling sensations rippled along his body;
His fur was buzzing
Like an ocean of insects.
A storm of bubbles
tickled his stomach,
marking the transformation's end.
He stole a glance in the mirror.
The skin of the Aisha
Was an army of flames
To match his enigmatic demeanour.
A smirk inched across
His newly morphed face.
For Xinoubi, One Darigan Aisha
One Aisha, aloof and solitary,
Sequestered in her dimlit den,
Waiting for a battle signal,
For the rise once more of Darigan.
Ears and tail are sagittate,
Her very form is weapon-like.
That tail, a writhing whip, alive;
Faster than a Hissi strike.
Acute spikes run the length
Of a mottled, violet frame.
Flashing white and cautionary
Are her two protruding fangs.
Claws are curved, acicular,
At rest retracted harmlessly.
But do not mistake, underestimate,
This Darigan Aisha, this Xinoubi.
Sanguine eyes with secret stare
Glow as though lit from deep within.
Inscrutable is her countenance,
Her motives masked by cryptic grin.
And so she preens with feline deference,
Like a knight who hones his sword.
Keeping herself at the ready
For the call from her Darigan overlords.
The Marooned Aisha
Wintry cold nips his pelt,
A storm of shards of baleful ice;
Frigid winds are painfully felt,
For that is the deserter's price.
Once of Shenkuu, once in skies,
Now he roams in veils of white;
Superiors he once defied,
And thus was punished for his slight.
All four ears now stand atwitch,
The Aisha notes a humming sound --
A branch with oil he does enrich,
And with a match a flame bursts round.
High in the sky a Sky Ship flies,
Leathery sails like Korbat's wing,
The Aisha calls with beckoning cries,
His fresh-made fire tall and searing.
Yet the ship maintains its course,
The marooned Aisha stays aground,
Pushing through the snowy gorse,
Always waiting, never found.
Dorina of Maraqua
If you look in Maraqua,
you'd be sure to find
Dorina, a famous Aisha
who's quite one-of-a-kind.
If you join Maraqua's team,
you'll surely see her soon,
for she's known in Yooyuball
as she plays every June.
Try to find an Aisha like her,
but I guarantee you will not.
There's no match for her deftness,
for her speed and perfect shot.
She's known for her perfection
as she shoots Yooyus in the goal,
but also for personality
since she's a kindly soul.
Dorina's kind and giving,
always with a fin to spare,
and also charismatic,
inspiring fans everywhere.
She always keeps on playing,
no matter how it may seem,
and she is always selfless,
both for others and her team.
All Maraquans know Dorina,
the famous Aisha blue.
All her fans get to know her,
and I hope you will, too.
She glides across the polished floor,
All who watch, her they adore.
Every footfall softly sweeps,
Closer still the enchantress creeps.
The silky dress is tossed and turned,
Each of her movements closely discerned.
Fabric wraps around her dance,
Ever closer she does prance.
Her eyes do glisten like the moon,
And place her watchers in a swoon.
Eyelashes mask the villainous glow,
As she advances smooth and slow.
Her parade will never end,
As long as there are minds to bend.
The elegant steps will never stop,
Until she has but reached the top.
Nobody will escape her form,
Her eyes an endless sea, so warm.
Her victims cannot even yell,
The curse of the Court Dancer's spell.
Robo Aisha Surprise
It's in there, I just know!
And if my mailbox is empty,
A fit I shall throw!
Days I've awaited my prize,
And as the days pass
So do increase my sighs.
But today my Robo Aisha comes,
I just know it will!
I can imagine it now;
As my pets look at it
With an expression of "Wow,"
In my Neohome it'll tower,
Roaming the rooms,
And all will surely cower!
It's here, it's here!
And for Aisha Day nonetheless.
Wait... it can fit in my mail,
Surely mustn't be it?!
It is... I might begin to wail.
I wait and I wait,
And when it finally comes,
Oh, how cruel is fate!
Merely ten pounds, and short in height,
This joke now roams my home.
The Almost Abandoned Attic
Deep within an attic hidden from sight
was an Aisha aglow with such eerie light.
Her white hair was frazzled, her eyes a deep red.
Her skin was transparent --
Well, of course, she was dead.
The place where she lived was packed with things:
from old hats to dusty bags,
To rusty chains and cursed rings.
Poor Aisha would give anything
To throw them all out,
but her ghost hands failed her --
A sad fate, no doubt.
Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to years;
time may have gone, but the pile never disappeared.
It was only when her neighbours left did she see
the thing that inspired her: a sign -- literally!
Before they went off, she asked them for the wood,
with glorious words that gleamed when it stood.
Then, they came in droves, with glee on their faces,
and soon, the Aisha was left with wide-open spaces.
Apparently, all it took was one big sale
to end the ghost Aisha's woeful tale.
I am the Chronicler.
It is my title and my purpose, all that I am;
Without it I would be lost, here in this deep dark,
The everything expanse that you call 'space,'
The space you claim contains nothing.
It is so frighteningly full.
I tell your stories.
Or at least I am meant to, made to.
I have a ship to sail me across the waves of light
Cast by stars, I have devices of metal to catch
Other waves, other light.
I have clever fingers, clever senses, a clever mind.
I have all these things to watch your stories;
I have nothing to understand them.
Sometimes I dream of walking your world --
But no, my speech is strange and stilted to you,
And anyway I am other. Alien.
Not just for the greenness of my skin
Or the number of my ears; you sense
The otherness of me, the strangeness.
You glance over your shoulder. You frown.
You hurry on.
And it's only sometimes, because it is beautiful here,
Here in dark and light, the hushed and the bright,
An everything full of things I understand.
I am the Chronicler. Your stories are mine to see.
But you are so very far away.
The Truth of Plains Aisha
Friends, I write to you all today
to end your fear and certain dismay.
The Plains Aishas, now certainly you
all have heard of this scary crew.
They wander the edges of our land,
Neopia Central. Vicious and grand.
Violence is assumed of these big pets,
but may I tell you one small fact?
I have done research, this is true.
I wanted to clearly find the truth.
These Plains Aishas, what are they
really like, do they laugh and play?
Or are they only a true violent breed?
To find them I went, to clearly see.
To the plains of Neopia Central I went,
and I found a pack after a day I spent.
One looked at me close and did not break
eye contact until from my bag I did take
an assortment of candied goods and a toy
and offered to the Aisha; this was my ploy.
The Plains Aisha looked, the rest too.
The eldest must have known what to do.
I braced myself as it came near,
I must admit I felt such strong fear.
But he simply shook my hand, as he took
the toys and candy with merely a look.
He smiled at me then, the big furry lug.
And then! Why then, he gave me a big hug!
"Finally," said he, "someone has come
to visit my pride of twenty plus one.
We are not a fearsome bunch," he cried,
"Just misunderstood, we're good inside!"
I left after a bit, now silent and sombre.
I would never think bad of them any longer.
And so now I tell you all this, my tale,
in hopes that your view will also change!
He wandered aimlessly,
Searching for a clue,
To answer his questions,
Of what and why and who.
What was he doing here,
Why must he walk this path?
Who is this Neopet,
Suffering fate's deadly wrath?
He stumbled through the sand,
Tormented by his thoughts,
His eyes laden with despair,
His stomach tied in knots.
A light caught his eye,
A reflection from afar,
Following his instincts,
He walked to his guiding star.
He picked up the object,
Unnaturally cold and sleek,
A distant memory stirred inside,
Blood flowed to his pale cheek.
"I am Pazo the Aisha!"
He shouted triumphantly,
For he had remembered,
His true identity.
He gently tied the object,
A single letter A,
Around his tired neck,
And briskly walked away.
Now he had direction,
Now he had control,
His fate was in his hands,
And he was on a roll.
Total Poetry Pages : 1962
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