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A Day at the Races
Let's all head down to the track,
The race will soon begin!
We bet our every Neopoint
On who we think will win.
Crowds all gather around the race
To watch with amazed eyes
Poogle number three who can
Run fast for his small size!
And just to make sure he will win,
We feed him a small treat,
Hoping that it will increase
The speed of his small feet.
Number three is gaining speed,
He's setting a fast pace!
The others, really, are too slow,
He's sure to win the race!
In this small pocket of Faerieland,
Lives are lost or made.
'Cause there's a jackpot to be won
If your Poogle makes the grade!!!
Burden of the Skunk Neopet
"What a smelly stinky stench!"
They laughed as she passed by,
"She really needs a bath or two,"
They sneered; she didn't see why.
She doused herself with perfume,
She shampooed twice a day,
The skunk Usul tried all these things,
"But still you smell!" said they.
She frowned and sprayed on fragrance,
She frolicked through the roses,
This Usul tried 'most everything,
But still they held their noses.
Poor Neopet just could not understand,
Their accusations were not justified,
She had no stench, she did not reek,
"I DO NOT SMELL!" she cried.
The skunk Usul was in despair,
Her paint job caused such a fuss!
Who would have thought such learned Neopets
Would see it as basis for a ruckus?
But one day she ventured out again,
She saw accusations everywhere!
Grey Neopets were blue, and faerie Neopets spoilt,
Darigan Neopets lived in a lair.
The little Usul fin'lly smiled,
She finally accepted
No matter what she did, they'd think her rank,
"I DO not smell!" she said.
Lost City of Geraptiku
Tropical sun slants
Down through the ferns,
In warm morning mist
We teach and we learn;
When sun's riding high
In sea-colored sky,
We sing of ancient times.
The heat of the day
Fades after noon,
As blue darkens, up
Rises silver-orbed moon;
When night turns to day,
And gold fades away
We sing of ancient times.
To ward off the night
We light up a blaze,
To gods new and old,
We sing our great praise;
Before fire's dance,
While flames pop and prance
We sing of ancient times.
Flames turn to ember
As night wanes on late,
This time is not mournful;
Instead celebrate --
For those who have come
With new-rising sun,
We'll sing of ancient times.
The Two-headed Terror, Gashrok
Suave and persuasive, that's my game,
I share a body, but have one name,
I lure you in with my devilish charm,
All your defenses I disarm.
I am the one who always lures you in,
Now let my mean half's verse begin...
I am the one you're unwittingly led to,
I convince you to do things
You'd otherwise not do,
My face speaking of my ruthless intent,
Threatening you 'till all your courage is spent,
And you relinquish your precious possessions,
None are left with anything after our sessions.
We are the two-headed terror Gashrok,
Upon one body are our heads locked,
Two craftsmen experts at their trade,
In stealing and thieving we're paid.
We take what we do not want to earn,
And all the rest we see fit not to burn.
Suave and persuasive, ruthless and nasty,
Two talents in one are twice as crafty,
We work as one, partners in crime,
We're on our way up there, making it big time,
Each day a bit richer than the day before,
We steal all you have until there's nothing more.
But we're not so bad,
When you REALLY get to know us...
Now Meridell's a land to see,
And Brightvale is another,
And both are kingdoms fair and green,
And ruled by two Skeith brothers.
King Hagan's ever wise and grave,
Impressive at each meeting.
King Skarl would rather laugh and wave
And quickly go on eating.
In time long past they did agree
That Brightvale should be sheltered,
Pursuing learning safe and free
From all that helter-skelter.
So Meridell bred heroes bold,
While Brightvale bred its scholars,
And strength and wisdom did unfold
Across both fields and hollows.
But Brightvale's secret safety meant
To Meridell went glory,
For academic circles aren't
The talk of song and story.
'Twas Brightvale made the armor strong
That Skarl then gave to Jeran,
But Hagan harks in vain for songs
That credit Brightvale's sharing.
And Meridell spoke loud of pride
But envied Brightvale's beauty --
The haven for the learning mind
Protected as a duty.
In famine some aid Brightvale gave
With agriculture's knowledge,
But though all in the end were saved,
The first fed were the college.
The orb was Meridell's own prize,
And war was their best showing,
But not so much do they describe
As unto Brightvale owing.
Still Brightvale teaches, kept secure,
And Meridell does realize
That through dislike and hardship sore,
They evermore are allies.
Total Poetry Pages : 1827
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