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SCORCHIO DAY SPECIAL
An Ode To All The Scorchios
Baby Scorchio, your eyes
are wider than the widest skies;
your smile warms my heart.
Camo Scorchio, your scales
are red and gold from head to tail;
your skin is fiery art.
Desert Scorchio, the gold
that gilds your wings I long to hold
and buy you endless gifts.
Faerie Scorchio, you fly
above the clouds and through the sky;
could you give me a lift?
Golden Scorchio, your light --
like daytime sun, you end the night
and glitter bright and warm.
what? Who are you? Where'd you go?
I see not shape nor form!
Pirate Scorchio, your hook
and eyepatch give you a fearsome look;
don't make me walk the plank!
Robot Scorchio, a steel
and cold computer cannot feel;
you just say "BEEP!" and "CLANK!"
Royal boy and royal girl,
leaders of the Scorchio world,
you rule with iron fists!
White Scorchio, I must contend,
into the morning fog you blend;
I lose you in the mists!
And last, Tyrannian Scorchio,
your hair is thick, your brow is low...
we love you anyway!
To every Scorchio, big and small,
Neopia wants to wish you all
a happy Scorchio Day!
Bottled Scorchio Breath
I was oh-so-very curious,
I wanted to find out,
What was in the little bottle
And how it came about.
The glass was smooth and shiny,
With three funny little horns,
The stopper was on tightly,
Which usually forewarns.
But I was too enraptured
To see the danger signs,
Curiosity got the best of me,
I didn't read between the lines.
I never should have opened
The bottle that I found,
With the pretty swirling flames,
Inside, that danced around.
But I pulled out the stopper
And gave a mighty cough,
When the Bottled Scorchio Breath
Burned my eyebrows off.
An Orange Scorchio
On Scorchio Day this year,
new colors will appear,
and fans of this species
will let out a cheer.
And new colors are great,
although my favorite is out,
orange Scorchios are the best,
of that there's no doubt.
Their colors are solid,
like silver or gold,
but not so bright that
it comes off as too bold.
They're almost the same shade
as Maraquan, you know,
except that orange Scorchios can
still wear all their clothes.
And while orange might have
some competition with jelly,
I'd prefer my 'pet to not
taste like a raspberry.
The one downside to orange
is what a poet will find,
is that it's hard to find a word
to describe them that rhymes.
Do You Have A Reservation?
Thought it's not so busy now,
kelp was the spot to visit years ago.
It was Neopia's most popular eatery;
It used to be the trendiest place to go.
kelp was busy but ran smoothly;
One particular Neopet ran the show,
He is called kelp's "maitre d',"
The tuxedo-wearing Maraquan Scorchio.
Everyone needed a reservation,
His appointment book was always full.
If you wanted in at the last minute,
You'd better know a popular Neopet with pull!
kelp is not as busy as it once was,
But the food is still just as great.
You can find the Scorchio maitre d',
Only now, you don't have to wait.
He'll escort you to your table
And offer a selection of food and drink.
He'll also make his recommendations,
So you don't even have to think.
When you're hungry, remember him,
The Scorchio who gives kelp its charm.
If you have a reservation,
He'll welcome you with open arms.
The Mad Zapper Scorchio
Metal tubes and buzzing machines
fill each inch of my secret room.
My lair lies hidden under miles of sea;
enter if you dare -- into your doom!
I never stop zapping curious souls,
or, as I'm told, I might be obsessed.
Well, there is no greater mad zapper --
I am simply the best.
How amazing it is to see all the changes,
from color to level to species to stats.
But how annoying it is to see them cry
when a zap turns unlucky -- those foolish brats.
There's just too much fun
in changing their lives,
too much fun in my permanent power.
It's not my fault, they know the risk --
why, if they could, they'd zap every hour!
Fortunes, tragedies, I've seen it all.
Yellow to robot and Maraquan to blue.
Yet, they keep coming back for more and more --
I'm starting to think that they're obsessed, too.
I may be wacky and I may be mad,
but I'm doing my job, and doing it well.
So, come forth to the ray -- don't be shy.
What will happen? No one can tell.
Flying through this volcano,
This Scorchio is quite brave.
Dodging the flying fireballs
With each and every wave.
Oh Glubgar, I fear for you,
While you fly amid the heat.
You can fly among the rocks,
Which is really quite the feat.
You come from Tyrannia,
And are featured in two games.
But, I know you for Volcano Run,
Where you dodge those fiery flames.
Go, collect those precious gems
For an even higher score.
Have you been playing much
With this Obelisk War?
Glubgar, watch out!
You’re going to get hurt.
Remember to keep flying,
Or you’ll end up in the dirt.
On this Scorchio Day, be safe,
As you fly until the end.
Watch out for those rocks,
As you go upon your descent!
The Tale Of Torchio The Flaming Scorchio
When Lady Frostbite posed a threat,
The call went out to Torchio;
As a fiery, fuming Neopet,
He's one impressive Scorchio!
Surrounded by menacing Darblats,
Lady Frostbite made her stand,
Without sword or shield (not even hardhat!)
Torchio flew to her wasteland.
Although he truly hated cold,
Torchio understood his duty;
As a Defender of Neopia,
His own comfort was secondary.
When he met the fearsome, queenly Krawk,
Torchio was acid-tongued;
For the fire within poured out in talk,
Leaving Lady Frostbite stunned.
She threw him to her huge Snow Guards,
But with a few fireballs did they melt,
And Torchio, finding his way unbarred,
Went to confront Frostbite herself.
From his hands,
Torchio threw a flaming stream,
From Lady Frostbite came ice and snow,
The result was an obscuring cloud of steam,
How did it end? We may never know!
The Scorchio Auctioneer
Electric silence charged the air,
The darkened drapes yet drawn,
A Scorchio came into view...
The Auction House at dawn.
Most thought him just an auctioneer,
But those who knew his craft,
With keen eyes watched from corners dark
And, to themselves, they laughed.
For well they knew his subtle signs,
Which gestures would betray
The rarest of the items
Piled up for sale that day.
Slight upward flick of pointed tail,
A swiftly side-ward glance,
The drumming tap of sharpened claws,
A sudden shift in stance.
These treasures spoke with words unheard,
Of value undisclosed,
And from beneath some glittery guise,
Deceptions were exposed.
Thus, with uncanny insight
And his gavel tight in hand,
This auctioneering Scorchio
Was always in demand.
Keeper Of The Gift Shop
A cheery, pert, and rosy face
Awaits those who come in.
That's not the best part of the place,
For sweet gifts lie within.
His wares vary in sentiment,
Defaced posters, baskets,
A vial with beach sediment
Wrapped up if you ask it.
The Scorchio considers all
When choosing to stock gifts.
So, unless it's Valentine's Day,
It's often hit or miss.
Makes the shop perfect.
Foregrounds, trinkets, frames can be
Sold without regret.
The Scorchio's Feloreena
Helps him wrap and tie,
Greets visitors when they've seen her
Until she cannot fly.
An unstoppable team,
With tying, boxing, picking bows,
They make others beam.
The Qasalan Mummy
Have you heard of the Qasalan Mummy?
Why, he is scary, angry, and cursed!
If you haven’t yet heard, then listen up close --
I promise that soon you will be well versed.
You see, the mummy
Was once a normal Scorchio --
He used to play around, joke, and laugh.
Until -- one fateful day --
He angered Prince Jazan,
Who cursed him with his magic staff.
And then, one fateful day in Sakhmet,
When Princess Amira rejected the prince,
The Qasalan Mummy found himself summoned
And has been forced to serve Jazan since.
He has since been roaming among Neopia,
For his reign of terror never ends.
You see, he is forever destined
To scare the world...
Along with his other bandaged friends.
If you find yourself up against him --
Well, then, you'd better take care.
For with just one word, this cursed mummy
Can drain your life or give you quite a scare.
Yes, he is angry, evil, and frightening.
And I am sorry for those
Who must cross his path.
But there is something much scarier than him,
Such as invoking Prince Jazan’s wrath.
So, beware the Qasalan Mummy,
For he is a frightening ghoul.
But if you think he is the most terrifying,
You are quite a fool!
Total Poetry Pages : 1865
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