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Mystic Island Dreams
Across the waves from the sunken city lights,
Before you meet the fearsome pirate shore,
The paradise for which my soul excites,
My weary heart will rest forever more.
I'm sitting, serenaded by the breeze,
The ocean spray softly mists my face,
I'm shaded by the gently swaying trees,
There's no one else around this perfect place.
Then hear the laughter coming from the beach,
And the bangs and clangs from the Battledome,
Words of wisdom, which the Masters teach,
Tall sails pass as ships from harbor roam.
The sweet, sweet flavors of the grondik root,
My coconut cocktail, a slowly sipping sweet,
And the blobbule, you great refreshing fruit,
Dozing in the lazy summer heat.
Lost city rests upon the northern shore,
The rock pool offers wild companionship,
You can hear the great Techo Mountain roar,
Watch Tiki Tours along the sandy strip.
But lo, this place lives only in my dreams,
While here back in the city I must be.
But these dreary days aren't quite as they seem,
For my Mystic Island dreams still comfort me.
A Day at the Hidden Tower
Of faerie dust and purple hue,
Where precious treasures sit,
A tower hidden from your view,
Is bustling quite a bit.
A rich Krawk comes in with bags of gold,
His eyes are gleaming bright,
The sword of Skardsen he does buy,
To complement his might.
A yellow Usul saunters in,
Paying for a sack of dung,
To get back at a skunk Mynci
Who hugged her till she stunk.
Flocks of Eyries, packs of Lupes,
With many Neopets more,
Form a long and winding queue,
At the costly items they do gawk.
Traffic at the Hidden Tower
Never quite slows to a stop,
So once a day for about an hour,
Fyora sighs and closes the door.
Stock is taken, one by one,
The Faerie Queen and her assistants
Count the treasures, when they're done,
The tower, once more, is open.
Quick footsteps in the dead of night
Give Sal the Eyrie an awful fright.
She creeps out from her bed and sneaks
Into the basement, past pipes that leak.
A flicker here, a shadow there,
Makes Sal shake and curls her hair.
She wanted to be bolder, braver,
But now she'd like someone to save her.
From what lurks in that there corner,
This is the end! Her friends will mourn her.
Sal shuts her eyes, flattens her ears,
Her heart is beating fast with fear.
A clang of steel, a clink of tin,
What could be making such a din?
The monster jumps into the light,
Sal stops. Then laughs with all her might.
It's not a ghost or Balthazar,
In fact, it's something less bizarre.
A Robo Eyrie -- nothing more!
A metal friend bought at the store.
The Conundrum Lenny
As we try to squeeze our brains,
Thinking, mulling, stewing hard,
What infernal sight is seen?
The blue-robed Lenny's dull regard.
Smiling beak and Nova wand,
Crimson tail that's split in three,
Pointy hat with dangling stars,
Makes us want to throw a Pea.
Grinning, taunting, two-toed bird,
Showing off the offered cash,
Promised prize and avatar,
Just to hear our back teeth gnash.
On this day, you mark my words,
Lenny's puzzle will be solved,
Even if we have to guess,
Don't care how much time's involved.
In our triumph we will spare
Pitying glances at the bird,
Then we'll tell him what we think,
"Lenny, dude, your game's absurd."
And we'll wait for one more week,
Seven days of peaceful joy,
Then see that the Lenny's back,
With new puzzles to destroy.
Thus the cycle starts anew,
Headaches, tantrums, vision blurred,
All while hearing Lenny jeer,
"Dare you call my game absurd?"
The Cursed Prince of Qasala
The Qasala prince came to the land,
Which holds no grass, but desert sand,
To take her who could break the spell,
To take the princess who there did dwell.
But she refused and he made war,
The like of which none saw before.
He sought the princess; some ask "Why?"
The answer was, "He cannot die,
Nor can he live. And it was said,
To pull him from the living dead
And once again make Qasala thrive,
He must the Desert Princess wive."
So shall there be no Scarab feats?
And mummies stalk the cursed streets?
And shall no one with scratch cards play
And find it is their lucky day?
So shall the princess pay the cost?
Or shall the Desert twice be "Lost"?
Total Poetry Pages : 1962
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