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GREY DAY SPECIAL
A faerie drained of magic,
Garments ripped and torn:
Of wings and name she's shorn,
Caged and wandering forlorn.
A flower dropping petals,
Wilted as it blooms:
It draws light from the room,
Drooping soft in gloom.
A frowning little Petpet,
Never known but woe:
Although you love it so,
Still the mood is low.
A floppy-handled paint brush,
More a mood than hue:
A faded coat it drew,
Weary sorrow, too.
Sometimes it is that we believe
What first comes to the eye,
And we can let our sight deceive
And ignore what's inside.
A pet may seem externally
To be full of grief,
Unhappiness, and misery,
And sad beyond belief.
The effect of the colour grey:
It clouds what we can see.
It means that they cannot convey
Some Neopets are happy and blue;
Others are joyous and ghost.
Grey pets can be positive, too;
But they're overlooked the most.
A grey Neopet is always sad. Are they?
Would you say it was true,
That on their most joyous birthday,
They cried the whole way through?
Or when their owner gave them
A lavish, expensive gift,
Their response was to condemn
And open up a rift?
A grey pet always sits alone
And mopes about their life?
Despite the fact that, on their own,
There is no cause for strife?
A problem shared is lessened,
I'm sure we all agree,
So do they buck the trend
Of 'misery loves company'?
The myth of grey depression
Is nothing but a tale,
So I hope you'll start to question
This mysterious grey fable.
So, though grey may look sad,
And I don't know about you,
I'd rather be grey and glad,
Than be miserable and blue.
Cry Me Grey
Take your palette, painter,
And mark it with a tear,
For faerie cheerless, faerie hopeless,
Eyes streaming grief and fear.
Take your key then, locksmith,
Break my irons, call me free,
But faerie friendless, faerie chained,
Never tasted liberty.
Take your fabrics, dressmaker,
And dip them into sorrow's stream,
For faerie ragged, faerie worn,
And try to patch her dream.
Take your notes, musician,
And play me a soft song,
For faerie soundless, faerie silent,
Voice stilled for years too long.
Take your parchment, poet,
And sear it with a flame,
For faerie imprisoned, faerie pained,
Who hides away in shame.
Take your laughter, young one,
And say I'll fly someday,
But faerie wingless, faerie crying,
Can only weep in grey.
Grey Day We Celebrate
The day we praise the pets of grey,
The day our good joy goes astray.
Our gladness is chained down today,
But still, Grey Day we celebrate.
The trees and flowers, they doth sag
Without the beauty they once had.
Decline of glory's rather great
Because Grey Day they celebrate.
A jolly Lupe once pranced with glee,
But on this day there's none to see.
Before he laughed, but now he wails,
And yet Grey Day he celebrates.
I find myself without a hope;
Tomorrow seems so out of scope.
With woe and sorrow I can say
That Grey Day I do celebrate.
This day is not one full of play,
This tragic day there's tears and pain.
To praise and honour pets of grey,
Grey Day we all do celebrate.
Potion of the Grey Faerie
Lacklustre, its hues so bleak,
It holds the magic all do seek.
One glimpse at bottle doth display,
A potion mixed from magics grey.
Brewed by the faerie without wings,
Such tattered feathers, useless things.
In battle one may grasp it tight,
To use when the crucial moment's right.
It calls upon that faerie grey,
To seek her help in any way.
Whatever aid she'll deign to use,
Mixed in the potion's bleakest hues.
Mysterious, the bottle seems,
Containing faerie's hopeless dreams.
A magic mix of something bleak,
Of dullest sorrows she can't speak.
All blended, bottled, tucked away,
The potion swims with lonely grey.
A gift from one whose hopes are dim,
Without her wings, the future's grim.
And yet she gives this precious gift,
So others' spirits might just lift.
In endless battle, many call
For the greyest potion of them all.
Total Poetry Pages : 1863
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