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Booktastic Book Dreams
A crate came for me from Kreludor,
All wrapped up in silver rope.
I caught my breath as my heart soared
With irrepressible hope.
I read the tag and let out a squeal.
"From Auntie, for my dear niece.
I know you're filled with reading zeal,
So please read these piece by piece!"
A crate of Booktastic Books for me!
I couldn't contain my joy.
I'm on a big mission, you see,
A quest I really enjoy:
I want to read all of Bernard's books,
Every single one of them.
It might earn me a few weird looks,
But I think each is a gem.
Galactic Adventures I and II,
Guide to Orange Furniture!
Then there's Binary Stars and You,
One of the best ones for sure,
Or Low Gravity Rock Collecting,
Which was such a sleeper hit.
With each book I've been perfecting
My Books Read score, bit by bit!
I'll get a badge someday, just you wait.
Then I'll display it with pride.
Booktastic Books are really great,
Both covers and what's inside.
This crateful will last me through the year.
Will it grant a badge to me?
I'll have to read to see, I fear --
How fun that will be for me!
An Ode To Tarla's Shop Of Mystery
If it piques your interest so
Or, perhaps, if you dare,
Venture to a land of snow,
Into an Ixi's lair
Amongst the sleeting hail and ice,
I assure you, you will find,
A certain peculiar shop
Keeping mystery in mind
For Tarla's Shop of Mystery
Is where you'll want to be,
When visiting Terror Mountain
Drop by to see this Ixi
And, if you are lucky,
And have spent your money well,
Draw back the string and look inside,
There a might be a prize that's swell
Perhaps it could be nothing,
But that's more left up to fate...
Try your luck at Tarla's shop,
You could get something rubbish...
Or you could get something great!
I'm done with playing Bagatelle.
Done with that smirking, ne'er-do-well
Harker the Lupe with his rickety table,
Who cheats me whenever he is able.
In rigging the odds he does excel,
So I'm bidding Bagatelle farewell.
The books are there to keep the table stable?
Good one, Harker; tell me another fable!
There must be fairer games of chance;
I could name a handful at first glance.
Harker takes delight in taking my NPs,
His smile grows bright when it's me he sees.
He lures me in with his song and dance,
And I spend my Neopoints
In some kind of trance.
My entire pocketbook he might as well seize,
The way he ignores my tears and pleas.
He uses a Mootix instead of a ball;
My heart leaps up every time I see him fall.
I can't help feeling sorry for the guy,
But I, long ago, stopped asking Harker why
He keeps the Mootix under his thrall.
I think he's managed to bewitch us all!
Harker's just not a reliable ally,
And that's why I'm bidding Bagatelle goodbye!
I've never actually won anything that great;
Each time I play, I end up irate.
If I felt like throwing my Neopoints away,
I'd go to kelp for their lunch buffet.
Harker, he's such a notorious cheapskate,
His constant cheating has started to grate...
But you say the jackpot is how much today?
Sorry to run, but I've got Bagatelle to play!
The Pirates Of Krawk Island
Raucous nights in Smugglers Cove
As pirates searched for treasure trove,
They dig and dig for more dubloons
Before they depart from the lagoon
Oceans shone in countless shades,
Vessels loaded with Krawks and trades,
They saw the life within the sea
As the compass pointed to their next degree
Winds carried them to far-off lands,
Acquainting them with stranger sands,
They sought to make world history,
Instead, they stumble upon
An island of Mystery.
Disembarking their ship to go explore,
They creep up and down along the shore,
Whilst migrating up the coast
They spot a hut called the "Trading Post"
One by one, they grin from ear-to-ear,
In hopes that they can commandeer,
The treasures found in this little place
In such a way that will go untraced
Inside, they find no one around,
But treasures piled in huge mounds,
Paint brushes, codestones, and pieces of gold,
Gathering as much as their small arms can hold
They run, unscathed, back to their ship,
Ready to depart from their short trip,
Onward they go, to continue their pleasure
Of stealing other worlds' precious treasure!
Where’s the Xwee’s statue hidden,
Or has she been forgiven?
Your home may not fly,
But at least her plans went awry
Because of her own careless actions,
But don’t you think her punishment
Is an overreaction?
Fyora, Fyora... what became of her glasses,
That were blown off in the ruins
Where Xandra took her chances,
And dug her own grave
In the garden of the faeries?
Fyora, Fyora... what was she like before?
Before she was evil,
Before she went to war?
When she was naive and, dare I say, cute?
What changed and mutilated her,
What morphed and transformed her?
Or, maybe, it was simply a realization
You feared would accur.
Fyora, Fyora... are you hurt at all,
That your own student
Caused the ultimate fall
That divided Neopia
And split you from the sun?
Fyora, Fyora... are you getting bored,
Of the owner asking questions
Whose answers you can’t afford?
Xandra, Xandra... I don’t understand,
Why you would leave an artifact in the open
For the thief’s nimble hands?
And why you would trust him
After all you’d have to withstand,
To claim the artifact
That sunk our homeland?
Xandra, Xandra... you made the faeries see,
But was worth it to be turned to stone
From now until eternity,
So that now the Queen’s rein,
Is splattered with a saddening stain?
Total Poetry Pages : 1955
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