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The Willow Tree
She scampers up the willow tree,
Her stripes flowing down her back,
Her velvet fur so beautiful to see,
A Xweetok, in the willow tree.
The river rushes by and by,
She rests and watches the fishes flop,
With a starry sparkle in her eye,
A Xweetok, in the willow tree.
A Weewoo sings, from its nest,
A sweet, sweet, melody,
Proving its song is the best,
To a Xweetok, in the willow tree.
'Tis a peaceful morning with a mystic dawn,
Light showering across the heavens,
The Xweetok sighed mournfully on,
"I'm only a Xweetok, in the willow tree."
A New Ghost in Town
Jeremy the Kacheek quaked with delight.
In a matter of minutes he'd be a ghostly fright.
Why, his eyes would shimmer,
His fur would glimmer,
And he'd give off an eerie light.
The paint brush tingled in his grip.
This was his chance! He couldn't trip!
Such a paint brush so rare,
Such a paint brush with scare,
He couldn't let it drop or slip.
He walked slowly to the pool,
A pool of rainbows! It was so cool!
The paint dripped off the brush so fast,
He had to hurry while it lasts.
What a magical, useful tool!
In a matter of moments he was done.
A new ghost around! Oh, what fun!
He spooked! He scared! He flew around!
Just then, he gave a terrible sound...
This sound made people quake and run...
Should I Be Painted...?
Deserted road before me leads
A life of Shadowed colour
Should I become
What I predict
Or should I
Achieve the other
Of being Ghost
A new, striking appearance
Although it scares
With roars and snares
I'd rather choose another
A 'shocking' fizz
And I'd say looks quite dazzling
But the price is high
I'll go with sky
And see what Cloud will bring
Cloud looks cool
An airy pool
Of colours blue and white
Though flying high
Will just defend
Not win a battledome fight
I think I'll just
Stick with Green
It doesn't cost a thing
I can still fight
With all my might
And see what it will bring.
Ghost Lupe Epic
Mystic shores, mysterious past,
A hero lingers in the mist,
A tarnished soul seeks revenge,
A bluish figure doth persist.
His crimson eyes emerge,
But in the mist, we see him not,
A teal haze along the coast,
Searching for whom he fought.
Paws silently brush the ground,
The grass parts to form his path,
His heart leaks with revenge,
Love cannot overtake his wrath.
This wayward spirit torn two ways,
Against the evil and the good,
Defeated once, but still remains,
This Lupe long misunderstood
The Flame of Perseverance
One day a young Scorchio who lived
On the shore of raging sea
Wanted to blow first flame from mouth,
Desired to be strong and free.
When the sun was just a freshly-woven veil,
He stood upon the rolling sand,
And from his mouth, came a wisp of red,
Which he hoped would spread across the land.
To his dismay, the dunes stirred
And snatched the flame as if in rage,
Then settled back down with a murmur,
As if harnessed by a barred cage.
The Scorchio vented a low sigh,
His hope quenched like the dancing fire.
Tears took the place of triumph in his eyes;
A flame was his only desire.
Fortunately, his determination was not gone;
Next day he tried above the sea.
He brought forth a body stark and white,
But no healthy flame it could be.
Disappointed, he breathed deeply and tried again;
Another colorless thing came.
It was not red as his work-beaten cheeks,
And thus would never come a flame.
He tried to be content with the fruit he reaped,
But then the ocean sensed the white spark
And leaped high, cheering jubilantly,
Leaving the white shard of hope dark.
Unfortunately, the Scorchio was through,
Sick of his hard work being small.
He had enough of ending the day with failure;
He would start flame once and for all!
The next day, he flew among the clouds
Perched upon the flimsy white.
Today was the day, he knew in his heart,
Fire would burn with all its might.
Anxious but eager, willing but afraid,
He rose his chest with all his strength
And from his mouth sputtered like a kettle
A scarlet string of such great length.
The fire in his eyes was triumph,
And he emitted a great cheer.
The flame was rapidly cascading,
And fleeting was his every fear.
Listen now, my faithful friend,
Perseverence is like this flame.
And the sand dunes and sea-
They're the weaknesses to blame.
If you keep trying again and again,
Determination will prevail;
But if you allow the obstacles to get ahold,
Then you may just be one to fail.
Let the perseverance within you kindle,
For it is the start of the fire;
And it will stand among the sea and sand
To bring forth all your desires.
Total Poetry Pages : 1865
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