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GADGADSBOGEN SPECIAL

Sometimes Gadgadsbogen Means Goodbye
by Mamasimios

Each year on Mystery Island,
As Gadgadsbogen concludes,
It's Cinto Pango's pleasure
To reveal the year's new fruits

As the natives cheer and clap
And head to the Tropical Food store,
Cinto Pango also lists
Which fruits retire, to grow no more

Over the years we've said goodbye
To Rahketmelon and Gurney Fruit,
Nevermore to taste fresh Scabu,
Pheppacorn, or Pango Chute

Farewell to Gruish Melon,
Postula, Foozette, and Gwermal,
Tagobo Plant, Purplum, and Peachpa,
All the Juppies, Red and Purple,

Where once the vines grew heavy
With long-forgotten fruits and berries
They now support new offerings
In delightful varieties

Just like winter yields to springtime
And its promise of renewal,
So, too, must old fruits yield to new ones,
They are the island's crowning jewels

Welcoming New Fruits
by Trubiekatie

It's that time once again: 
Gadgadsbogen is here! 
The parade can begin, 
So come down and cheer. 

The excitement builds; 
What are these new fruits? 
Everyone is curious, 
Let's examine their roots. 

What vivid colours 
And unusual shapes. 
They look quite different, 
Compared to grapes. 

Only one knows: 
Cinto Pango, you see. 
A wise tribe elder, 
Who can foresee. 

He reads a scroll, 
With all the fruit names. 
Everyone cheers, 
As he proclaims. 

So enjoy this festival, 
The arts and parades. 
Soon it will be time, 
For shovels and spades.

The Origin Of Gadsgadsbogen
by Chavo_guerrero

Llugh was an ambitious soul,
A Mynci who was red,
Watching the sunset with a friend,
Before he went to bed.

Between them was quite a bet,
That he could race the sun!
His Aisha friend was scornful,
She didn't think it could be done.

But Llugh rose bright and early,
To meet the shine that day,
And as the dawn rays touched him,
He was quick to speed away.

He raced as fast as he could go,
With running, climb, and swim,
But by midday it looked like he,
Was destined to not win.

The sun streaked on ahead of him,
And left him far behind,
And so he pushed on harder,
He was the fastest of his kind!

All too soon he had to stop,
To have a bite of fruit,
But he saw someone who needed food,
Trudging on his route.

He gave his up to help them feed,
But then to his surprise,
It turned out to be Tyleine,
An earth faerie in disguise!

"Run on fast my little friend,
You can still complete this race!"
And so he ran until the end of day,
With a smile upon his face.

When next he saw Tyleine she said,
"Take this fruit of yours,
On drop the seeds upon the floor,
With your dainty Mynci paws."

And when Llugh did as she required,
From the ground then rose,
Some brand new fruits he'd never seen,
Where the seeds land that he throws.

The origin of Gadsgadsbogen,
And the reason we get the new food,
Is all thanks to Llugh and his race with the sun,
And with that I would like to conclude.

The Purblare’s Monologue
by Larkspurlane

So
it 
seems 
winter’s grip has 
loosened on the island’s 
landscape -- green makes its 
slow return, and with it, dotted 
here and there, new-sprung fruit,
vivid, bright joys, in the forest gloom.
Gadgadsbogen is here, and spring is its
herald -- the sap of trees is stirred, blood
of the soil, leaf and twig kissed by soft 
petals of sunlight. And the new fruit 
are flights of fancy -- flavours new, 
colors unnamed, and discovered, 
edible masterpieces, as the
spring sun sets in the 
cloud-broken sky.

Running & Fruit
by Aldurswolf

It's the month of Running
And running started the legend
Of fruit of many shapes and sizes
That no one had seen before
Llugh ran and ran and ran
Aiming to race the sun
His bag dropping food
Behind him as he went
Still he saved three juppies
To eat along his way
But gave one to a faerie
Who seemed to need it more than he
For his kindness the spirit of the earth
Was with him as he ran
And he beat the sun in his race
Once done, the faerie gave him seeds
That he then did scatter all abouts
And new fruits that'd ne'er been seen
Began to grow
So each year we celebrate
With a party called Gadgadsbogen
Because each year new fruits begin to sprout
And that makes it a good, good day.


Total Poetry Pages : 1884

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