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KACHEEK DAY SPECIAL
I went for a walk last night again,
Through those woods behind our house;
The sky was clear and a deep blue,
And filled to the brim with stars.
I made my way between the trees,
Treading a familiar path;
Yet the branches were all barren still,
And winter's frost remained.
I walked under the sky's dim light,
Expecting nothing more.
Yet last night I saw a different star,
As I turned round that corner;
A young Kacheek, with curious eyes,
Her fur glowing warm and bright;
She darted away, in shyness perhaps,
And she was gone in just an instant.
Only then, in her wake, did I see
The shoots sprung upon thawing footprints,
All the signs of life's awakening --
And that spring was finally here again.
While a Master Bakes Away
Shapes, flavours, textures, toppings,
causes for delight --
you've done it all, and what's more,
(if more were possible,)
with ingenuity endless.
A bucket cookie? Who'd do that
but you, Master Baker?
Yet these crafted
simplicities of the everyday
are exactly what keep them
for it's not just the children
your work brings a smile to, but
all and any others;
The scent of your
cinnamon turns back time, and
your applesauce reminds even
the most down-to-earth
of orchards they'd once played
Master Kacheek, your craft
knows no bounds. A
creator you are, an artist, save for
one thing: what paints or
admiring to the heart's content,
could one eat?
The Aimless Search of a Zombie Kacheek
Withered smile, baleful eyes,
A heart filled with cares and lies,
Rotting flesh and rotting cloth,
Melting marks of mortal troth.
Wading through the murky gloom,
Gnarled branches a clasping doom,
Yet the Kacheek feels them not,
For they, like him, will one day rot.
But soft, what is this? A living smell:
Tempting as a chiming bell.
The undead groans, tail aground,
And moves to follow the scent he found.
There, a moving form is spied!
The zombie Kacheek keeps his stride,
Until the figure lifts its head,
And then the heart is filled with dread.
Another zombie languishes there,
(Hardly pleasant table fare)
Disgusted by this lack of food,
Our zombie lost his neutral mood.
A searching groan now echoes forth,
Through the woods that swathe the north,
The Kacheek follows his aimless way,
And where he went, we cannot say.
Cursed For Life
He sits alone in the Graveyard of Doom
Where creatures do howl and shadows loom.
He serves the Esophagor in the night;
This poor little Kacheek lives in fright.
His master is bloated but still he wants more
Of Eye Wraps and Gummy Rats and Spyders galore.
His master's stomach is a bottomless pit;
This poor little Kacheek cannot quit.
He hopes to one day remove the curse,
And that one day all evil will disperse,
But to this day his efforts have failed --
Still the Esophagor seems to prevail.
He wasn't always grotesque and freaky too.
He wouldn't have gone there if only he knew.
Now he lives miserably in a strife --
This poor little Kacheek is cursed for life.
A garden, do
You see him? I
Know he's there
Because he's hiding
Just for me to seek him,
In our game of the Kacheeks.
Gedda Happycheeks, living gnome,
Guardian of the Kacheek gnome tribe,
Steals quietly through his sylvan glade,
Where the Rowzez tower above him like
Fragrant and thorny umbrellas, shielding
Him from rain and sun and seeking eyes.
Gedda excels at protecting the smallest
Of his Kacheek gnomes and the even
Smaller Petpetpets who float and fly
Alighting safe on the outstretched
Hands of the living gnome who
Hides them all from harm.
Oh, happy game is this!
I tread so carefully
Not wanting to misstep;
Find his hiding place with
Foot, not sight, what an awful
Conclusion would that be to such
A pleasant game! And so I creep, as
Gedda hides, I seek, my feet as light as
Aisha paws, my breath held fast so as to
Not give myself away, and yet I know I am
At a disadvantage: my tiptoeing must thunder
Like summer storms, sending gnomes to ground
Hiding in secret places where they can't be found.
Awaken with the creeping dusk
And sleep when sun will rise,
Tending waves of starlight wheat
In fields of moonlit skies.
Each night is like the golden fall,
For harvest here awaits,
The farmer with his gentle touch
Tends fields before you wake.
In Altador, when leaves do fall,
The time of harvest nears.
Finest fruits and golden wheat,
In autumn every year.
The farmer watches from above,
Within his starlit crops,
And gazes at the fields below,
Each barley and cornstalk.
Guardian of verdant lands,
Protector, gentle, just,
Tends a field of leaf and green,
And one made of stardust.
Though you're just a gentle soul,
Florin, we do cheer.
Without you there would be no green,
No harvest every year.
The Kacheek wriggles into place,
Hidden just out of view.
He giggles quietly,
"Does she see me?"
His owner searches carefully,
Double-checking every spot,
Calling out her beloved pet's name.
The pursuit is exciting;
It feeds a sense of playful adventure.
He peeks above his camouflage,
But he's been spotted.
His owner races toward him,
As if running toward heaven.
Effortlessly enjoying the day.
They prepare joyfully
To begin the chase again.
The Extreme Herder
A game of tag it looks to be,
Involving Balthazar and me.
Around the pen I'll run all day,
Carrying Petpets out of his way.
The golden ball will grant me speed,
To be used when in dire need.
With it I'll escape the paws,
Of the Lupe who'll chase 'til hoarse.
The frost is there to help with play;
It will cause Balthazar to stay.
Still, I have to keep aware,
And save each Petpet with extra care.
Samrin is my name, you see,
An Extreme Herder I've been known to be,
So play my game if you dare,
For Balthazar will be lurking near.
Realm of Eliv Thade
In a place of darkness and wonder
resides a genius of haunted horror.
Known for his cunning nature --
no puzzle remains unsolved.
Eliv, Eliv, the forest whispers,
enticing, a calling -- a siren's song.
The impending appearance of death,
an enigma in himself, nevertheless.
Fear quivers in the presence
of the elusive Thade.
Within a moment's grasp,
the gears to your mind --
a sanctuary of thoughts and secrets
No puzzle remains unsolved
in the world of Eliv Thade.
The Royal Kacheek
She treads among the frosted blooms
Beneath cloud-punctured skies,
A snowflake in her dainty paws,
Lost in her world of ice...
Her coral gown glides across
The endless fields of white,
The scarlet gem upon her head
Gleams in the feeble light;
A rose sits perched behind one ear,
A blush of pink amidst the snow;
The royal Kacheek looks around,
Her warm, dark eyes aglow.
Some Kacheeks prefer the warmth
That Mystery Island provides,
Built of sun and sand and sea
With playful surfing tides.
Others like to dwell
In places grim and grey:
For them, the Haunted Woods
Is the perfect place to stay.
Many think it strange indeed,
But for this royalgirl Kacheek,
Terror Mountain is her castle, her home,
With its blizzards and its pearl-capped peaks.
Appeal to the Imperial Examiner
Oh, great gaurd of the gates!
Oh, masterful mover of the fates!
He who scholars fear!
He who draws ever near!
Here I stand, mysef so livley,
Day and nihgt, I cannot rest,
This one wish consumes my thoughts,
That you shall see me pass your test.
When I was but in kindergarden,
Spelling was my cheif consern,
And though I was just a begginer,
To school I went and sought to learn.
But fundametals, they did bore me,
So quikc I tried the harder stuff.
I hating waiting, as you can see,
So I volounteered in the libary.
I knew that wokring in that palce
Might help me acomplish my very dream,
But it turns out I hate labourious tasks
So promptly I quit and began to scheme.
I decided the unviersity was the spot
To develope the skills I would need to succeed.
I could skip the dull studies I didn't find usefull,
And focus on reaching your threshhold with speed.
But whenever they told me that I'd made an erorr,
I just could not immagine that I could be wrong,
So I left vowing not to return to attendence,
Untill they'd admit that my spelling was strong.
That day never came,
But I had perseverence,
I left for this kindgom,
And was on my way since.
So that's how I come to be waiting before you,
My heroe, the most briliant Kacheek in the land.
My life has been lonley, friends far in betweeen,
But all's worth it if you'll say that you understand.
Oh, knowlegeable knower of right and wrong!
Oh, iminent inspiration of this littel song!
The time has come at last,
Will you tell me that I passed?
Sweeping through the velvet night,
Skulking on, he makes no sound.
He disturbs nothing as he moves,
His shadow seems to dodge the ground.
Meridell Castle stands alone,
A black silhouette against the sky,
It's a fortress, locked up tight,
Impenetrable to the naked eye.
The doors are locked, the windows shut,
The bridge is well and truly drawn.
The moat is deep and dangerous
And many guards patrol the lawn.
King Skarl is sleeping soundly,
Quietly tucked up in bed,
When suddenly a mighty clatter
Causes him to raise his head.
He awakes to find an empty room,
His cupboards empty, cold and bare,
Jumping up he calls the guards,
Raising his arms in vexed despair.
The castle was completely searched,
They looked in every single nook.
No fingerprints and no stray hairs --
No way to see who was the crook.
But King Skarl knew who was to blame,
And he shrieked through gritted teeth,
"I know that it's you again!
One day I'll catch you -- Kacheek Thief!"
The Zombie Kacheek's Propensity
The zombie Kacheek has a slight propensity --
That is to say -- tendency --
To gaze about, with wide, wide eyes,
Eyes of liquid amber, black with hints
Of russet brown and rust orange.
All the while groaning, mouth opened wide,
Calling for something only other zombies know.
He is searching despite
The decomposing arms, the weakened limbs,
Despite the crumbling tongue and
Despite the insatiable hunger, so far unmet,
Despite the anguished moans that hold no meaning,
Calling for something only other zombies know.
Yes, he has the propensity to walk for hours on end,
Showing no sign of stopping, no sign of being
Faster or slower than that bumbling walk,
Blinding creeping along, swaying side to side,
Seeking something only other zombies know.
Let's just say that the zombie Kacheek has a propensity for brains,
(As all other zombies know!)
Hurry, scurry, Kacheek of blue --
Balthazar likes your Petpets, too!
No time to waste, don't hesitate!
Don't let that poor Babaa get ate;
Toss it in the pen, back for more,
Saving lives and boosting the score.
Freeze that Lupe to the grass;
Buy time for another pass.
Doglefox in the corner, run,
If you want to see another sun!
Picking up a boost of speed,
Barely snag a Petpet in need.
Toss to safety, turn on a dime --
That Angelpi's running out of time.
All safe in the pen, stop and breathe.
Balthazar grumbles as he leaves.
Congrats, nimble Kacheek of blue,
Another round won; good for you!
Next day dawns, back to work.
Balthy's back; what a jerk!
More rules and items in version II;
Learn them quick, Kacheek of blue --
Wibreth into danger walking;
There's no time for idle talking!
Puddle blocks your way; the pain
Blue Fangy, gone: such a shame!
Use X2 for twice the power --
You can do this for hours!
Each to a paw, place in pen,
Time to run and do it again.
Attract them with a treat: apple'll do.
What a smart Kacheek of blue!
Balthazar has to stalk away;
You've (mostly) saved the day!
Learnt the new game on the fly,
Herder Samrin, you plucky guy.
Kacheeks of Neopia: Control Your Ego
While many Kacheeks are being born,
I watch as your ego grows,
and I agree you have some pros:
On you clothes do look best,
Nice smile and eyes filled with zest;
The optimal species you seem.
Bet you think you deserve a crown,
But to Neopia you should come back down,
Because like Faerieland you will crash,
Your image will turn to ash.
Your fifteen minutes start now.
Physically you have a big head,
And as your ego is being fed,
Now metaphorically you do too.
And although everyone seems to like you,
To Shoyrus you'll always be number two.
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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