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BORI DAY SPECIAL
Snowfall and Rainbows
The snow falls soft on Terror Mountain's peak,
And blankets all it touches in pure white.
The scene seems drab; the colors are but bleak,
And every soul awaits the morning light.
As dawn's first rays illuminate the sky,
A Bori peers out from his snowy den.
Emerging from the shade, he seems to sigh,
Content to see the sun rise once again.
Behind the Bori, colors bright appear,
From scarlet red to violet of hue.
The rainbows dance with merest flick of ear,
As sunlight finds the Bori and shines through.
Though made of ice, his heart is yet on fire:
To turn the world to rainbows, his desire.
Ode to Armin
Of Armin the hero we sing
Of Bori, surely the most brave
The Heart of the Mountain he saved
No night could the dread monster bring
Through battle his catapult swings
Freedom to his people he gave
Driving enemies out from the caves
Ne'er once his courage flagging
White fur, blue eyes, claws of black
So small, yet a hero to many
We salute your courage and cheer
As you pass; oh, are there any
Who can follow on your fearless track
When heroes are called to appear
Woes of a Bori Gnome
You know me as a Bori gnome,
the raking one to be precise,
but mother taught,
though now you're grown,
that lab'ling someone isn't nice.
So though I rake up all your leaves,
and keep your garden nice and neat,
I really rather you'd reprieve
and find out that my name is Pete!
I am a Bori, and a gnome,
I can't deny these things are true,
but you should know that in the end,
I'm really no less human than you!
So next time you pass me on the lawn,
or are pruning flowers on the street,
don't treat me like I'm just a pawn,
and greet me with a "Hallo, Pete!"
The Churlish Bori
On Terror Mountain's silver peak
Where sleet floats soft in winter's bleak
There stands nestled 'mong sage-green firs
A sullen shack trussed by snow's furs
A halting step in hearth-warmed shop
Bares slate-grey desk cuffed off the top
And crabby figure brandishing hammer
Beckons with a fierce half-stammer
His eyes are hard and yellow-hued
The cap he wears is soft felt blue
His brows they rear in bushy chagrin
And slinky beard curls like shabby bunting
All day long he mends, repairs
Til frozen grey's crept in his hairs
Fuzzles have turned in those hands
And Uni's hats from distant lands
A mended bauble brings else-rare smile
To curving lips that are else-riled
And however moody the repairman may be
We still send our toys to the churlish Bori
The Honorable Ones
A special day to commemorate,
A Neopet so grand,
One that remains strong,
Through time that falls as sand.
Thriving in a place,
That sometimes forsakes,
The worth of every one,
And the courage they must take.
Honoring this Neopet,
Cannot be done in words,
But listen to a tale,
That so long ago was heard.
A creature of destruction,
Was brought upon the land,
Evil purged his thoughts,
Mighty sword held in hand.
The Bringer of Night,
Tried to destroy them all,
Until a great and mysterious force,
Caused the warrior to fall.
Frozen in time,
Escaped from their destiny,
The mighty Bori species,
Now lives in infamy.
Platted back and perky ears,
The Bori may be minute,
But its true strength lies within,
The self that is so cute.
To all who have judged them harshly,
I say that you are wrong,
The Bori is a mighty foe,
And has been for so long.
On this day I celebrate,
A species that is so grand,
The Bori shall forever be known,
As an icon among Neopian lands.
Total Poetry Pages : 1827
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