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Bubbling cauldrons and sickening smells,
A bellowing fog, followed by whispered spells,
Cooking nasty concoctions in her tower,
Edna works the best during the witching hour.
A potion to induce hives and boils,
Over a simmering cauldron, Edna toils
Away in her tower, under the looming moon,
Ladling disaster in her spoon.
Before the sun rises, the potion is complete,
Cackling and taking the cauldron off the heat,
With a wink, she captures the potion in a vial,
And pockets it with a mischievous smile.
It's Halloween in Neopia!
It's Halloween in Neopia.
Everyone shivers in fright.
Candy and sinister dealings will
Be taking place all the night.
Up in the skies of Neopia,
Jhudora sits on her cloud,
Cackling with glee and preparing the
Carrots she'll feed to a Floud.
Meridell's all celebrating; from
Cottage to castle they run.
Darigan watches, enchanted, till
Dragged down to join in the fun.
Mystery Island is partying;
Tombola Man shares out masks.
Still there are torches that burn over
Things it is best not to ask.
Through the Lost Desert there's laughter, and
They even have their own ghost.
Off to the Shrine, trick-or-treating, for
Coltzan's a very good host.
Even the Pound tries to join in;
Dr_Death dresses in black.
Sweets and confections are donated,
Loneliness briefly thrown back.
Up upon cold Terror Mountain, they
Dress up and share Witchy Neggs.
Deep underground are the Boris, though,
No more asleep in their digs.
Sloth's up above plotting takeover;
Space Faerie gives him a scare.
Space Station costumes look like his face...
Kreludor's factories despair.
Pirates who go trick-or-treating are
Not welcome sights at your door.
Gold is their favorite, grog more so;
Hope that they leave you on shore.
Haunted Woods are in their element!
This is their time and their place.
Mad run the quests and the Carnival,
Gleeful the tests and the chase.
This Halloween in Neopia,
Party and eat, but watch out!
Pant Devil, Shadows, and vampires all
Will be their business about.
Carnival Of Terror
It was once a place of laughter,
Where shame was prohibited,
Now swarming with these evil Chias,
Pestering all who once lived in it.
Their robotic faces are painted,
Their eyes are ever gleaming,
This evil comes in many parts,
Always destructive and scheming.
They'll throw pies if you're near
And ride umbrellas down,
Therefore their faces always leer
And they never ever frown.
You can try to dodge the pie,
Try to time your time right,
Allow ammo boxes on your side,
But there's three easy ways to die.
Halloween Night In Neopia
Pallid moon shows eerie trees,
As ominous clouds give way.
Horrors speak on the breeze,
Mind's caught in terrible fray.
Witch's cauldron, heathen fire,
Shadows alive in odd dance,
Consumed with hate and dark desire,
She gives a broken glance.
Up atop a desolate hill
Cries one who has no hope.
He is that which is terror,
Sets pace in ranging lope.
Torrents of rain wasted here,
Where no one places foot.
Ghosts who abide the other plane,
Protect it from those who loot.
Little sprites made of night
Give those who walk their way,
That which they crave most,
With a price that's dear to pay.
Seeking knowledge, ever bright
A tree alive as you.
Its crystal glaze strikes fear,
Brain a mass of bubbling goo.
A fair that demands visit,
Chills all in horrid dread,
They are that which you were seeking--
Now they're trapped inside your head
These are known as dark,
For them life is a game.
Been dead or haunted for years,
Your soul is theirs to frame.
On this night of black prowess,
Dwell those who seek to harm,
Full of malice and of spite,
They wish to coax and charm.
This is the day that all is loose,
There is nothing you can do,
But on this day I do declare,
A happy Halloween to you!
The Werelupe's Lament
Wocky's eye's bright at night,
Pumpkins glow ever bright.
Shadows move in a ghoulish light,
As Pteris now, off in flight.
Creatures moving door-to-door,
All in hope for a little more.
Yet nobody goes on the moor,
Nothing more than an empty core.
Up there, where the Werelupe stays,
All alone, each night, all days.
A friend for himself, all he prays,
A small release from the grey haze.
Youthful laughter all around,
Little feet begin to pound.
No one hears the mournful sound,
Of the Werelupe on his mound.
Total Poetry Pages : 1962
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