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An Ode to Grundo Independence
Large liquid eyes, locked in the dark,
Tiny hands of innocence clasped in grief,
No words spoken from mute lips,
Chins are raised and struck down.
All freedom is lost to those from above,
Their own little prison in empty space.
Near webbed feet patter on metal,
Marching to the rhythm of order.
Cries are heard and arms are lifted,
United together the tiny ones run.
Manacles are broken and chains tossed aside --
Their oppressor lost in the fray.
Metallic masters and residents of the moon,
These once trapped creatures lament their loss.
They praise the day freedom came to them
And their voices join together in thanks.
Grundos run wild, alight with liberty.
Tyranny-oppressed and forevermore protected,
A brotherhood created to stand strong --
They celebrate their prize of independence.
A Kougra of the Mist
Idle do the tendrils drift,
Spiralling, they gently shift.
Pallid tones of sickly grey,
Heavy here, the mist doth lay.
Hurried motion, tendrils sway,
Entangled, shifting far away.
Some beast doth lurk with bulky frame,
Dividing fog like dying flame.
Padded paws like thunder tread,
Suspense, they fill the heart with dread.
Ominous the rhythm seems,
Echoed in one's darkest dreams.
A feline beast shall now emerge,
The coiling tendrils shift and surge.
A Kougra, vapours trailing 'round,
Translucent paws that skim the ground.
A beast created from the mist,
Kougra eerie doth exist.
Trembling, dare you meet his gaze?
Two sickly orbs through shifting haze.
Drab the tone of greyest form,
Awash with shades of darkest storm.
Drifting back and forth from view,
Transparent, silvery in hue.
Mere myth, some sceptics wish to state,
A mere tale frightened folk create!
And yet so many do insist,
There's talk of Kougras, formed from mist.
A decadence so powerful,
Neopets fall to their feet,
Breathing in such intoxication,
A smell so divine and sweet.
Swirling around in vast pools,
Glistening in the light,
Flavors exotic in every taste,
Try to resist with all your might.
No other food can transform,
Creatures in this way,
What a power it must have,
To lead even the good astray.
Just one more taste,
A single, solitary bite,
To keep me forever sane,
For one more lengthy night.
Finally the time has come,
For the gala of great desire,
A soiree that encompasses
Sweets from which I never tire.
So let me fall into the depths,
Of this never-ending dream,
Filled with dripping clouds above,
Meadows light with fluff like cream.
Perhaps my obsession turns,
And I travel on new tangents,
But to those who share my passion,
The immense craving is never spent.
White and dark they do appear
Before my very eyes,
Cookies, brownies, and bars,
They dance and tantalise.
Oh, this pain is too much,
My fixation begins to grow,
Just one more piece shouldn't hurt,
But one never really does know.
Empty pockets tell my tale,
Neopoints gained and sold
To fulfill my luscious greed
Of chocolate greater than gold.
Gormball in Faerieland
Then the day awoke to the sound
Of avid fans and ceaseless cheer.
What's the commotion, you may ask?
A big game played just once a year!
And this year it's held in a special place,
A realm of purple charm so grand --
Usually so serene and in order,
Now a hectic scene in Faerieland!
And the exciting event commences,
Silence halting the noise of crowd.
Who will be the first brave one to throw?
Well, all we can do is watch now.
And... Gargarox steps upon the highest cloud!
A rare strength slithers through his gaze,
Fists clenched tight in a quaint boldness,
A posture practised to amaze.
And, swinging his arm back gracefully,
He released the liquid ball,
Which climbs through the air like a bubble,
Sighing at the sight of its fall...
It lands in Kevin's grasp!
Why, that Korbat so small but sly
Is already devising his hefty plan,
Sure to make his opponent cry!
So his lips curved into triumphant smirk,
He tosses the menacing sphere,
Its plump shadow among the lavender,
Now well suspended in the air --
And... oh! This isn't looking good...
Ursula has met her defeat!
The cold water does tease her frame
As the ball her sleek fur does meet.
But the game is certainly not over yet;
Thyassa, now on the scene,
Throws the ball across the clouds,
Her eyes glinting with a glare mean.
Looks like it's out for Brian;
But who would have ever known!
That Scorchio is so very strong,
Firm from flesh to the bone.
Farvin III's looking up for the match
As he gives the faeries a grin,
Spinning about with ball in hand,
Knowing this aim is sure to win.
The ball does fall from the heights;
Zargrold now holds the ball with pride.
Had it exploded? Why, of course!
But, hey! At least he tried...
Is the game over yet? Who's next?
Why, Ember's up, so it does seem.
But who will she throw it to?
Is there someone to win this dream?
Well, the ball is now flying high,
But now who else could there be
To receive this great honour?
Oh, that would, of course, be me!
And... the ball is now in my hands,
Has not quivered or even moaned;
Looks like I'm the champion of this game!
Victory is now all my own!
And I hold my reward in pride,
My praises coming in a band,
For I have won this round of Gormball
So fondly held in Faerieland.
The Angry Korbat
In the deep darkness of the Haunted Woods,
Sat a lonely, angered Korbat!
He had no one to love, no one to hate,
No one to talk to while he ate!
One day, while he was eating,
He heard a strange sound!
Should he go investigate?
Yes, the source should be found!
He flew to where he thought
The noise was coming from.
Sure enough, there a Petpet was.
It didn't look like it had a mom.
He took it up, and gave it food.
He played with it, walked it, gave it baths!
He loved it dear, and it was good.
They always made sure they were
Together in their paths.
Now he wasn't lonely, nor angry at all.
He had someone to love, someone to hate,
Someone to talk to whenever he ate!
Someone to catch him when he would fall.
Total Poetry Pages : 1962
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