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1,500TH POETRY CONTEST
Let's recap what has occurred
This year since Neopia's birth.
Faerie quests have been revived
With much more colors and much more vibes.
Krawk Island was divided in two
Since its disappearance into the deep blue.
It was safely returned, mission fulfilled
By none other than Gavril McGill.
Eight-Bit is a robotic twist
On pixellated graphics -- is it a myth?
Try your luck to get this zap
And try it for your Petpet too, young chap.
Wheel of Extravangance, let's rejoice
And spend those Neopoints; it's your choice!
Petpet royalty was the fad
With the Petpet Royal Paint Brush --
Aren't you glad?
Let's not forget old Trillion for the win!
Auctions of infinite rarities
Made our heads spin.
But alas, Team Shenkuu lost the Altador Cup
To Team Virtupets -- what a toss up!
Water and wraith are amazing colors;
Their reactions were so big
They can't get smaller.
And that's it for now, whew, what a year!
Happy birthday, Neopets,
You'll always be dear!
In Praise of Skeiths, Big and Small
Skeiths are sure hungry all the time;
They desire their many sweets.
So eager for a key lime pie
Or other yummy treats.
But who would fill the restaurants
The shops and the cafes?
For hungry Skeiths, we all join paws
And gladly shout "Hooray!"
Skeiths love to play, though they are slow
As they slither 'long,
And if you please a kindly Skeith
You'll never see a smile as strong.
They love to nap, those tired Skeiths,
Relaxing at the Neolodge,
Or driving with their convertibles
Into a Skeith garage.
We love the Skeiths, one and all,
Purple and orange, blue and green,
All the Skeiths, big and small --
Though strange if they were lean!
Those Bright Lamps
In the dark caverns of Moltara,
the renowned Lampwyck
lights up the atmosphere
with flames appearing with a flick.
He scours the tunnels
for more material,
to make his lamps
that look so ethereal.
What dazzling move of
those tiny particles
make his exotic wares
such fine articles?
Combing Moltara's curious
yet intricate inventions,
the cunning Buzz creates
so many new dimensions.
Even though there exists
no natural light deep under,
his beautiful lamps
glow with wonder.
Sloth's Kad Feeding Frenzy
Who in Neopia would have possibly thought,
Though known to be "bad"
That some of the things he brought,
Weren't so sad?
Just when you thought
He was turning your items to sludge,
Little did you know,
He just wanted to make the Kadoaties glow.
It's a tough call to judge.
The Kadoaties kept crying,
Which left Sloth's heart just dying.
Unable to tolerate the sad, sad sounds,
He'd swap your Draik Egg
And leave you with grounds.
That's right, there's a Pile of Sludge,
Right where your egg once stayed,
Of course you'll hold a grudge,
but guess what he made?
The Kadoatie stopped crying, imagine that?
A Draik Egg snack was all it took,
And take a look!
They became fast friends, just for the books.
If the incessant meowing
Of the mutant Kadoatie takes 5,000 NP away,
Never forget Sloth Appreciation Day!
Watch Out For Kep!
Today we'll talk about a certain Buzz,
Barely scoring points is all she does.
She's very special, you ask why?
She's left defender, Kep Bonnefie.
A Darigan Buzz is her color,
There's no reason why you wonder.
She plays for Darigan Citadel's team.
Watch out! She can be quite mean.
She's been playing on the team since 2006.
Like that? Then get this.
She keeps to herself, and it turns out alright.
She locks her lips, nice and tight.
The reasons why are outstanding!
She read some articles not too flattering.
Leave her alone or you'll feel her wrath!
Though, she did give an autograph...
So back to Kep's strong abilities,
Going so fast, you won't even see.
Though she lacks in strength,
She'll make that up!
She'll steal the ball, better duck!
She really can't score, as said before.
Doesn't that sound like a bore?
Well, instead she'll tackle you for the ball!
Or she'll steal it, so watch out all.
That's enough about Kep for now,
Seeing as she's probably on the prowl...
Watch her at her games and cheer her on!
If you don't, I'm sure you'll be gone...
I could collect avatars, cards,
Or Neohome lamps
But I just discovered that I
Can also collect stamps.
There is nothing that I would rather do
Than go to the Post Office
And see what is new.
The Chunk of Meat- I've already got that
And the Golden Khamette
And the Tyrannian Korbat.
Advisor Wessle -- is that in my stamp book?
Let me go through my album
And take a quick look.
I love the Snowy Valley stamps
Though I don't have many
And the Mystery Island stamps;
Of them I have plenty.
I only have three stamps from Virtupets
But I don't have ANY from Qasala yet.
While I look though my stamps, I am seeing
That I collected more
Than the average Neopian.
But there are still so many
That are left unchecked
There must be dozens of stamps
I have to still collect.
And whenever I view my lookup
I can surely see
That the number of stamps
I've collected is now 43.
I hope to expand my collection,
I hope to have much more
And hopefully when tomorrow ends,
I will have 44.
Tribal Tones of Tekkitu
Strange, the rhythmic, pulsing beat,
That fills the humid night.
Something dark is dwelling near,
You're not alone tonight.
A thudding rumble, deep and strong,
As strange staff hits the ground.
Rattled echo trills through shade,
So sinister that sound.
Dare you part the jungle fronds?
Peer through, what lurks just past?
Dare you risk the Techo's wrath,
The spells that he might cast?
There the witch doctor doth dance,
To tribal, ancient beat.
The sounds that echo jungle's rage,
Are tapped through shifting feet.
With each shake of the wooden staff,
The magic weaves and drifts.
Something in the air doth change,
The realm itself soon shifts.
He throws his head back to the sky,
And gives a tribal yell.
You melt back from the jungle's heart,
Where Tekkitu doth dwell.
Horrors Of The Meepit Oaks Sanitorium
An asylum buried in the Haunted Woods,
Where terror lines the walls.
Blood stains cover metal doors,
Bones littered across the hall.
Empty rooms encased in darkness
At every twist and turn.
Skeletons still left untouched,
Show the revulsions to be learned.
Sights inside the rugged building
Will make a stomach lurch.
Red streaks upon the gravel floor,
Bodies overturned in dirt.
Piercing, stifling echoes
Tell of madness come to pass,
But memories still do linger
Of an overrunning mass.
The abandoned hospital
Once was home to those insane.
The patients kept inside their cages,
Came loose with costs so grave.
All was lost that horrid night;
The peace, the order -- lives.
In one lone cellar there lays a flower,
Over tragedy survived.
Enter through the wooden doors,
Before the day is done.
Discover all the horrors inside
The Meepit Oaks Sanitorium.
My New Wraith Friend
Deep within the shade
Of winter's coldest night
You're startled as you watch
A winged thing take flight
As it gently lands near
You're compelled to run
But curious, you're held astray
This discovery could be fun
Carved from pinkish glow
Two empty eyes and mouth
As features smile creepily
You're plagued a bit by doubt
For one more test there is
You hold out your hand
As the Wraith Korbat shakes
Both drag themselves to stand
A friend you've made
He flies into the shining sky
As you're left behind with
Only memories of the guy
Masks Of Dread
In the middle of the Haunted Faire,
Amidst the ghosts and ghouls,
Is a caravan in disrepair,
That doesn't welcome fools.
Silky purple curtains,
Are hung 'round and about,
With a ropey, wooden, Neovian theme,
Both inside the place and out.
A Cybunny named Saskia,
Lifts her pretty head,
But instead of looking your way,
She looks at masks instead.
"This is the Masks of Dread," she says,
As she folds her ears back,
"Maybe you could help a while,
Whilst I get through this stack?"
The masks are spread before her,
With an oh-so-wicked stare,
As she beckons you in closer,
To pick one you will wear.
With your mask in place she claps her paws,
And sends you on a quest,
You hurry through and speed on back,
Hoping she will be impressed.
She thanks you with a wink and says,
"I knew you wouldn't slack,
Keep that mask for helping out,
But please promise to come back."
You leave the faire in puzzlement,
And try and think it through,
I wonder, do you own the mask,
Or does the mask own you?
Total Poetry Pages : 1984
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