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Hide and Seek
Yellow Xweetok, little friend,
'Neath the sun-dipped daffodils,
Do you see me in my home,
Leaning on my window sills?
Looking outward, that I might
Catch a glimpse of golden hair,
Or perhaps a bobbing bloom
Hinting at your passing there.
But the flow'rs betray you not.
In their fragrant tongue they speak,
And conspire to help you win
At our game of hide and seek!
Fooling the Petpets
March had passed, a new day came,
April first, of joking fame!
That day a group did meet for lunch,
Some five small Petpets, in a bunch.
A Slorg, a Spyder, Snorkle too.
Kadoatie, and a Puppyblew.
All sitting having such a time,
Munching meal that was sublime.
A Wocky watched, and thought so quick,
"It's time for April Fooling trick!"
He grabbed his bag and searched around,
Ah-ha! His costume, quickly found!
He pulled it over giggling form,
And into Florg, did he transform!
With wicked grin, he stepped on out,
"IT'S FLORG!" the Slorg in fright did shout!
"He's hungry, and it's us he'll crush!"
The Spyder yelled, and fast did rush.
Kadoatie raised his voice up high,
Predictably, began to cry.
The Snorkle fainted rather fast,
As Puppyblew raced deftly past.
The meal was now in disarray,
The joke had worked, that April day!
What a desolate soul bears he
A rogue left in a power ambition
Business hews in solemnity
Setting his sights and completing his mission
A distressing fact he lives insecure
Feeling no trust nor allies
Supremacy thoughts leech at his soul
And feelings for Masila -- he denies
He crowned himself the king of thieves
With no care for envious eyes
He has his reasons, or so he believes
Along with his egotistical lies
But yet a mournful topic to have known
For he does in fact feel a persistent ache
Masila's soft gestures belong to Kanrik alone
And it's a fact that he cannot shake
The Mischievous Mynci
When night is at its darkest point,
A movement in the trees,
A silent plod of skill and craft,
The stars glow faint and ghastly dim,
A shadow darts, unseen,
Between the stretch of endless bush,
Hidden in masses of green.
A powerful jump makes barely a sound,
A figure crouched up at the roof,
And flashes so fast that it's only a blur,
Leaving no trace of the proof.
It was one chilly April's first
Mission successfully done,
Piles of riches were fastened in sacks,
All before light of the sun.
Unknown to all the other crowds,
With motion, oh so quick!
The mischef of this April's night
Performed by merely a flick.
Nothing in their rightful lives,
No technology, reading or tools,
Had ever prepared them well for this
Disastrous April Fools.
The Sword Against the Spellbook
Within, malicious magic hides
In inky scribbles across pages white,
Spells to ruin and to curse
Do burst forth with wicked words.
Wizard's tome of dark intentions,
Innocuous mien belies sorcerer's tool
For visiting revenge most cruel
Upon opponents and poor fools.
Used by Ramtor, in his tower,
Unbeatable, this magician dwells,
All challengers to his proud rule
Leave defeated, nursing wounds.
But comes a gallant Blumaroo,
Armed with humble blade and fortitude,
Destined to halt Ramtor's reign,
Rohane is this hero's name.
Great sparks fly and tremor ripples
Through the tower, now place of fierce battle,
Watch the sword against the spellbook,
Fray of might, none knows who'll lose.
From volume thick, a shadow rises,
Filled with aura nefarious, merciless,
But one timely strike of sword,
Sends the spell veering off course.
Once more, slashes rip through the air,
And soon the blade revels in triumph sheer,
As Ramtor falls in defeat,
Rohane the victor emerges.
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