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Copper and Vert
Past the dells in shadowed woods,
Where sunlight danced on dappled grass,
'Neath the crimson-dimpled hoods
Of leaf and branch, entangled mass.
Coiled up in the dusty earth,
A spangled emerald Hissi young.
Shining gem of life and birth,
Of hooded gaze and flickering tongue.
Gliding close in sepia stealth,
The ochre reptile seeks its prey.
Lustrous scales of burnished health,
And verdant eyes intense, but fey.
It strikes! And catches struggling rat,
And injects it with venom sweet.
In blink of eye, dark death has met,
The limpid result of Hissi's feat.
In evening cool, the heat is mild,
And all the Neopets flock to home.
Amber mother coiled 'round peacock child,
And, till the sun's rise, not to roam.
Maraquan waves through the misty blue,
everything so pure, so true.
Let's stop by the Bubbling Pit,
How do all these creatures fit?
Here we see air, with a cave as a lid --
We could catch a giant squid!
Now I need some financial help,
because I drank some water from kelp.
We leave this wonder with a sigh,
And swimming away we wave goodbye.
I was empty. Didn't feel whole somehow.
Oh, I was content, but not complete.
I spent my days alone and quiet,
Quest after quest, trick after treat.
I didn't fit the bustle of Neopia Central
or the ceremony of Brightvale.
I couldn't cope with the brash Krawk Islanders,
or the sickly sweetness of the faerie maids.
Lost was my countenance atop Terror Mountain,
and the warm sand of the mysterious isle
was not enough to soothe
my unusual desire.
So I left Neopia for a while,
and when I chanced to find
again my once happy home,
I was filled with delight.
In my absence a discovery --
the most beautiful land of any,
Shenkuu, pristine, perfect, untouched,
I found as I got off the ferry.
The crystal mists, the sweeping mounts,
The wise old Gnorbu with his chart,
The food, the Petpets, quite the best,
Shenkuu: there lies my heart.
Ode to the Royal Paint Brush
Oh, the Royal Paint Brush,
The regal purple prize.
Just seeing you in storefronts
brings me a great surprise.
Oh, how I'd love, my paint brush,
to paint something with you.
A Xweetok, an Aisha,
or even a Gnorbu.
But yet you escape me,
My Royal Paint Brush fair,
As you cost too much money,
So I must sit and stare.
At windows of the Hidden Tower,
neopets of friends,
In hopes their luck will rub off on me,
And you are 'round the bend.
hat's this, a new Random Event?
A paint brush, for me?
I can't wait to click on it
To see what it might be.
OH NO! Another orange one,
I have ten of those,
I don't want them anymore...
Who'll trade? No one knows.
So I'll wait in solitude,
Until my paint brush is here.
From Wishing Well or Hidden Tower,
Or never, I fear.
Isca, Is the Sea Too Loud for You?
Isca, Isca, is the sea too loud for you?
As it chides the gale, plucking its white mane,
And glares back at twilight's gleaming cutlass?
You curl up in a bed of seaweed to rest,
But slumber's fingers are arrested by the arms
Of frantic waves.
So Isca, Isca, is the sea too loud for you?
Isca, Isca, is the dusk too dark for you?
As night tucks the world into bed with its veil
And a ruler garbed in pallid silver takes the throne?
Your eyes are closed, and you're lying down,
But sleep is elusive as the flitting shadows.
So Isca, Isca, is the dusk too dark for you?
Isca, Isca, is peace coming any time soon?
As the lowest tide of the ocean comes
to chase the gale away, and break
nightfall's sword in two?
You will feel your eyelids weighed
down with sleep at last,
And your nightmares will become
a final roar of thunder.
So Isca, oh Isca, hope peace comes soon!
Total Poetry Pages : 1961
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