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CHOMBY DAY SPECIAL
Chomby and the Fungus Balls
One blue Chomby and four Fungus Balls
Take the stage in the Concert Hall,
Anxious fans watch their every move,
Waiting for their chance to groove.
The Chomby puts on his yellow shades
And prepares to serenade,
The Fungus Balls, lined up in a row,
Get ready to put on an excellent show.
The music starts and the crowd goes insane,
They cheer and they yell
And they scream the band's name,
The Fungus Balls, with their hair swaying,
Keep to the beat the music is playing.
The Chomby nods and screams to the fans
Who are dancing and singing
And throwing up their hands,
Some even try to jump up on stage
To meet the band that is all the rage.
Before they know it, the show has ended,
And the crowd leaves, glad they had attended,
The band signs autographs
And hands out t-shirts,
Excited about their upcoming concert.
In the Tyrannian Jungle,
A silhouette can be seen,
A figure with a determined neck,
Striving for evening cuisine.
Printed against the setting sun,
The silhouette appears to be
A Chomby standing on the tips of his toes,
Nibbling the greenest leaves off a tree.
Munching them with his flexible jaw,
Pleasure filling his face.
Savouring the flavour of every leaf
At a steady Chomby pace.
Once his tastebuds are satisfied,
The Chomby gazes at the sun.
Then, despite his filled-up belly,
He leaps off at a skip and a run.
He reaches the plateau after barely a moment,
And watches the sun go down.
His smile shows a look of pure content,
As if there were no such thing as a frown.
Prelude to an Autobiography
Chewing on the tip of a quill,
Staring at an empty journal,
The giant hungry malevolent Chomby
Has decided to put his life into words.
It was the fault of all those taunts,
From peers of yesteryear,
That set the gentle mammoth off
On a raving rampage fraught with tears.
Village ruined, he was ostracized,
Forced into isolation with nothing,
His attempts at amends all for naught,
But so very hard he had tried.
Alone without food, nor water,
Lacking a place to call home,
Bitterness and spite crept in stealthily
Like dusk creeping upon fading light.
And soon he was utterly consumed
By a malicious will, hateful and wicked,
With not much more in his mind
Except never-ending hunger and revenge.
But even the most hardened heart
Seeks to be understood at times,
Thus this Chomby writes woefully
Of his long deserted simple life.
When I think of all the Neopets I could be,
I dream about being a baby Chomby.
Cute and cuddly is this little fellow,
He's adorable and sunny, drenched in yellow.
Tiny green spots like drops of dew
Trickle down his back in numbers so few,
As if they were placed with the greatest care,
Not competing or clashing,
Can anything compare?
A single placing of a few little dots,
Not overpowering, but they say a lot.
Resonating thoughts of innocence and fun,
His quiet way cannot be outdone.
Through a crowd can his cry be heard,
Each syllable like music forming each word.
Floating on air like a sweet little breeze,
Striking a balance with the greatest of ease,
Filling each thought that is sent your way,
Full of fun and laughter on this Chomby Day!
The Giant Hungry Malevolent Chomby
Breakfast time, and you're hungry,
But your cupboards are bare,
All the snacks you'd been saving
Are no longer there!
Confused and now starving,
You head for the food shop,
But they've been robbed too!
Where will this fiend stop?
There is a huge moving shadow
That blots the sun from the sky,
The giant jelly has vanished,
And the Soup Kitchen is dry!
You're near the giant omelette,
When all of a sudden,
From high up on the plateau,
You hear stamping and thudding.
Afraid it might be a quake,
You run to look over the hill,
And see a giant blue Chomby
Happily eating its fill.
Then, scared but quite famished,
Towards the omelette you creep,
Perhaps you can grab the last slice,
Once the giant Chomby is asleep!
Total Poetry Pages : 2009
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