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Nose to ground,
He feels the expectation in the air:
The roaring silence,
As they start.
Forty-five minutes past the hour
In a burst of gasps and pants,
They desperately dart --
Keen eyes flashing.
Once a contender,
Old bones creaking,
Poogle Four darts,
Nose to dirt, tail to air,
One, Two, Three, Five,
He crowed sighs,
Loyal betters remorse,
Once an old champion
He walks across the line
Preparing for another defeat
In an hour’s quarter.
Each second I wait with baited breath,
Playing it cool, taking it slow.
One refresh after the other,
The same pictures, the same glow.
The minutes pass as time goes on,
I can’t be distracted, I can’t give in.
But nothing changes, I might add,
One quick peek and maybe I win.
Frantically, it happens all at once,
One second is gone, one second lost.
A chance to make millions had flashed by,
Not knowing the real price it had cost.
Alas, it goes on in a cycle,
A chance to take, a fleeting mistake.
The hours pass with nothing to show,
Maybe now was time for a break.
It all came to this, a frown and sigh,
One last refresh, one last desire.
But there it was, plain as day!
A chance to claim and be the buyer.
Clicking fast to win the race,
My last hope, the last test.
A frantic haggle with shaky palms,
Was it enough to end my quest?
The sight before me was surprising,
Unknown to me, it could not be true.
I had no words, my throat had gone dry,
I realized my offer had gone through.
The Neopian Times
The Neopian Times is
Neopia's one and only newspaper
It is the best around
There is simply no greater.
It has many different sections
Articles, stories, and comics to boot.
There's more to this paper, however,
I find the Editorial a hoot.
Somedays when I am stuck on that
Impossible game high score
I look in the articles section
And then I have one trophy more.
Or when I have those days
When I seem to feel in despair
I go straight to the comics
And then my happiness is repaired.
Or maybe I'm just bored
In need of something to do,
That's when I go to the stories,
And that's where creativity breaks through.
So, whenever you're bored,
Or in need of some hints
Read The Neopian Times
As it's the greatest newsprint.
Apple Bobbing Bart
The leaves, they crunched
The wind, he blew
The path, I walked it good.
I walked it good, that Haunted Wood,
'Til I stopped and looked and stood.
In front of my feet
Was a bobbing feat;
A feat that had seen many feet
A barrel was filled,
It was a test of some skill,
So I tried it,
How hard could it be?
Just dip in your head
And come out with something red
And juicy and shiny -- and green,
How hard could it be?
Well, hah, silly me
'Cause it wasn't easy
As apple pie,
Or, at least no pie I've ever seen.
I yelled, "Who's the bloke
that's running this joke?"
Then I saw him and everything changed.
He told me his name and his story, he did
And it was, though respectable, strange.
"The name is Apple Bobbing Bart,
But just Bart does okay.
Step right up to play my game;
Don't let them apples get away!
Careful, watch them pockets
Hold on tight to all them points,
Wouldn't want them slipping (Har, har...)
Wouldn't that just be your day! (Har, har...)
I run this game,
Not much, maybe,
But it's who I am and what I do.
Perhaps I've no fame,
No glory, no name,
But these apples, I pick them for you.
My hat, you say?
Maybe one day
I'll tell that story,
But not today!
For now, just bob them apples, boy
For now, that's all... today."
Solving a journal's cryptic clues
Leads you to faraway Shenkuu
To search in a dark and hidden cave
For the legendary Clockwork Negg
And what do you find in the mists?
None other than Rutu the botanist,
Or rather what is left of her,
The skeleton and dusty fur
For time unknown Rutu stood guard
Among the stalactites and shards,
None but a rocky pillow for her back
As she protected the artefact
Shining through dusty layers thick
The Clockwork Negg yet whirrs and ticks
As it must have done for unknown hours --
You marvel at its sustained powers
Warily you look for traps,
Reach out a hand, then take it back
And, exercising self-control,
Reach instead for some Negg scrolls
Reading, you see they contain clues
That you need to decide if you should use --
Are the secrets of the Negg yours to possess
If it means disturbing Rutu's rest?
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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