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The Failed Tiara Theft!
One night at rich Fernypoo's palace,
After a long fashion debate,
Concluding tiaras are gorgeous,
And clear visors somewhat third rate,
Fernypoo went for her beauty sleep,
Kalora pretended to leave,
But in the hall decided to linger,
- She had an idea up her sleeve,
A short while later she emerged,
And crept up to Fernypoo's room,
Stopping to make cricket noises
To make things sound normal, I assume,
She took the crown from sleeping Ferny,
And set it upon her own head,
She admired herself in the mirror,
With Ferny unaware in her bed,
Kalora tiptoed toward the door,
But then came an unlucky hitch,
The crown fell off her head to the floor
As her ears gave an untimely twitch,
Fernypoo woke up; she'd heard the bang,
"What going on?" she demanded,
Kalora made her excuses but,
She had been captured red-handed!
Swordplay for Justice
Invisible amongst the shadows of night,
A nomadic, cloaked form exists.
With a magic katana strapped to his back,
And sharp claws hidden under white fists.
A wandering soul with a purpose unclear,
Perhaps a justice crusader, they say.
For rumour has it that he has saved towns
From destruction on many a day.
Flitting in shadows, his form indistinct,
Now where may be his destination?
He's sure of his path, guided by above,
Yet to others he gives no indication.
Looking to be but a small, black-cloaked sphere,
Underestimated he should never be.
As he is as dangerous as any other,
But only fights those against equality.
Fighting for fairness and what is right,
He is especially skilful indeed.
Jab-slash with his sword in the blink of an eye,
Of this Kiko you had better take heed.
For the next place he visits might just be yours!
Has he reason to go after you?
Be careful, as you'll never want to cross blades
With this ninja. Niten Hiroru.
The Desert Ruki
Across the sands he wanders alone,
No place to call his home.
Night and day, he does not stop,
Across the desert he roams.
Many pets claim to have seen him,
But have they really? Who knows?
He passes like a whisper in the night,
It is a lonely life that he chose.
Some say he helps travelers,
Those who got lost in the sands.
Others say that he is a ghost,
Forever doomed to haunt the land.
He treks many miles under the sun
Through trackless sands and desert waste,
Often tested but never fooled
By visions of water he cannot taste.
He overcomes every obstacle,
Wades through danger, thin and thick,
He battles quicksand and bandits
With his trusty walking stick.
Always moving, he never stops;
Across the sands he roams.
Even though he is alone,
The desert is his home.
The Missing Page Pteri
I'm a Pteri by birth,
And a nuisance by name.
I guard all the pages with care.
And when you most need,
A page right away,
I'll be sure to fly into your hair.
I'm so good at my job,
When it comes to annoying.
I handle the addresses all.
You'll come to a place,
That you wanted to see,
And into my trap you shall fall.
A blank space of whiteness
That stretches for miles.
With no information in sight.
I've whisked it away,
So that maybe you'll stay,
And I can laugh very hard at your plight.
For I am a Pteri,
The guard of the world.
And I will decide if it works.
If you find that a page
Has gone missing for once,
Then by all means, blame me for the quirks.
Digging A Friend
Digging a grave
just makes my flesh twist,
it raises my hair;
what's that in the mist?
It looks like a paint brush,
dug deep in the mud.
Oh, Fyora, please bless us,
for I want it so bad!
I have no big patience,
my hands are at work.
The body feels the turbulence...
it's nothing but a Slorg!
I stand here, appalled;
my eyes do not move;
my arms lay stunned;
my dream is disproved.
A line of slime
has covered my thoughts.
I guess I'll need time
to put in those plots.
My other companions
are gone away.
I know, there are millions
of graves in the way.
I pick up my finding,
its eyes are so big.
It seems like it's asking:
"Take a look at my wig!"
"This shall be my new friend,"
I mumble, while we leave.
"With it I'll spend my life.
Yes, I truly believe!"
Total Poetry Pages : 1962
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