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Neopets Poems

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The Black Pteri
By Prows_back

The Black Pteri swoops low for its prey,
Its claws stretched and beak opened wide.
It seems to hunt food simply for play
Between naps in the mountainside.

Many pets have set out to search for the bird,
But none have ever returned.
To track down and defeat it is simply absurd,
A lesson that's been painfully learned.

Its song is said to freeze pets on their heels,
And its caw's filled with want and despair.
If you don't want your pets to end up as its meals
You'd best stay away from its lair!

Adventures in Black Pawkeet Slots
By Iloveshred

Though to Pawkeet Slots I am addicted,
My outcomes always can be predicted.
Seldom winning, not much gain,
And on my bank account it's a strain.

So why do I play? Why, oh why?
Do I like to lose my life's supply
Of Neopoints? I don't think so,
So why subject myself to this woe?

The answer, in time, becomes quite clear,
As my Neopoints disappear.
The spinning colors mesmerize,
"Arr"s and "matey"s hypnotize.

I don't notice my numbers decrease,
As I chase my reward piece.
Staring at Krawk congregations,
Hoping for that combination.

Maybe someday, five treasure chests,
Will line up in the way I request.
And once that plunder does align,
At last, the jackpot shall be mine!

(Forever) Waiting at the Wishing Well
By Webgirla_always

The dark tunnel rests silently;
planted amongst the lush green grass
of Central Neopia.
But somewhere below in all the blackness,
the faint trickle of water droplets
continues to chant its tuneless song.

Proof of the well's blessed existence
gives the visitors their hope.

I see them every now and then;
the many dreamers.
How they empty their spare change
into the nothingness.
Awaiting the faint sounds
which will confirm that their generous
donations have indeed been received.

The Great Act has not
been done in vain, however.
A wish must be made.

We keep our fingers crossed,
and hope for all the best.
Fueled by temporary hope
while (forever) waiting at the Wishing Well.

A Salute to Meridell
By Mermaid2918

Peasants frolicking,
Laughter rippling through the plains
A medieval world with great games

With its ye old shops,
Lush green hills to roll cheese down
The Tower of Turnips
Protruding from the ground

Round Table Poker games
Berry picks and counting potatoes
From the Rubbish Dump,
Salvage Squished Tomatoes

Kiss some Mortogs,
And then move on because
Turdle Racing is a must
And let's not forget Turmaculus

Visit Illusen's tranquil glade, and
Pick Your Own Berries from Meri Acres
Haggle with the Merifoods shopkeeper,
Their finest baker

These are only some of the several things,
That make Meridell worth visiting

The Maraquan Saga
By Isabela911

Deep beneath the cresting waves,
Off the island's jungle shore,
In silent pools and echoing caves
Maraqua sleeps to rise no more.

No more resounds the marketplace,
No more transparishield brightly shimmers--
No more the domes of the Palace's face
Glint in the depths of the blue-green glimmer.

Where now courageous Chiazilla?
Keikonna quakes and Smileys flee--
Where Koko's kelpcakes and coral salad?
All that remains is cursed debris.

Yet deep beneath the ocean's swells
Movement stirs and currents rise--
And from unfathomed bubbling wells
Stare wary pairs of Maraquan eyes.

Above this pit as black as coal
A bellowing seaslug plows the waves
Who marches around Maraqua's shoals
And greets curiosity with "GO AWAY!"

His cry resounds from surface to seam
Rippling the shadows 'round the stones
Where through the fronds an amulet gleams
At the throat of a Faerie, frozen and cold.

The curse that binds begins to decay
like sand swept before a towering wave--
A seaborn Phoenix by magic remade,
Fair Maraqua arises from its watery grave.



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