500TH STORYTELLING CONTEST SPECIAL

Editor's Note: This Poetry Gallery is to commemorate the 500th Storytelling Contest!
Also, we will be having a special Lawyerbot Poetry Gallery soon, so please send in your Lawyerbot poems by 9:00 AM NST, April 14th. Thanks!

Old Dreams
By _Razcalz_

Old dreams of waves --
like ghouls they came, sometimes
persistently and
at other times relishing in
reappearing just as he began to realise
he'd lost them;

Like shadows they drifted
in and out as they pleased, empowered
only by a Kougra's mortal
fear of water --

Water, crueler than the
steel of cage: for when trapped
amidst the dark blue, water is the one
who let Matt glimpse
the gold of sunlight unreachable,
then watched
with apathy as he sank,
sank,
sank.

He knew the endless sandbar
as he would a childhood friend,
and in the surf
an enemy as patient
as time itself.

The Pipe
By Chocolate_lover67

Was the pipe for drainage,
Or was it like a flute?
No one ever specified,
So I don't have a clue.

If the pipe was hollow,
With water flowing through,
That would make a bit of sense,
But do drainage pipes glow blue?

Some say the pipe was a flute,
The musical kind, of course,
But flute-pipes are more delicate,
Can it withstand such force?

This pipe has to be strong enough
To smash a porcelain bowl,
It has to survive the impact
And make a big enough hole.

Maybe the pipe could be both,
For sewage and for song,
But until then, I'll simply say,
It's an AWESOME PIPE.
And that can't be wrong.

An Epic Battle of Words -- the 500th
By Filter

Kynne and Kyth, the sisters of our prose,
Blurring the lines between evil and good.
Setting the stage for a powerful torment,
To suffer through this, no one should.

One Light and one Dark, though you'd never know,
They were born of each other's creed.
If you'd love to know more, there's a story to tell,
The Storytelling 500th entry to read.

Within those words, this great battle ensues,
The sister's battles with their power.
The action will have you on the edge of your seat,
Just like the storyteller's each entry hour.

Commanding the elements, controlling the void,
Kynne's corruption rampant over all.
Her befouled mind creating nightmares,
Let's hope those Neopets don't fall.

Water and Fire, Air and Earth,
Each has their own fear to overcome.
Just how they do it, you'll have to see,
You won't know 'til the story's done.

So grab a pillow in a comfy chair,
And nestle up to our woven tale.
Each writer now an emotional mess,
But winners all without fail.

The 500
By Herdygerdy

The tales they weave,
The stories strung,
The legends told,
The songs they've sung.
Each week anew,
Another rung,
On the greatest tale,
That's yet to come.

From Sarah's friends,
To Matt's dream-quest,
With such characters,
We have been blessed.
The Storyteller,
Deepstalker's nest,
Or Seraph, Aletia,
And the rest.

Such tales they weave,
Such ups and downs,
Of vampires
Or stolen crowns.
The plights of heroes,
The plights of clowns,
The saviours
Of sleepy towns.

Five hundred now,
These tales laid bare,
The Catacombs,
You'll find them there.
But it's not over,
Read if you dare,
The hundreds more,
We've yet to share.

21
By Phadalusfish

A humdrum of sound:
-Squeals and sighs
-High fives and hugs
-Clapping and crumpling
(of pages, at least)

They ring out.
All through the Catacombs,
Echoing
Echoing
Against the rough cavern walls.

Sounds of excitement,
Sounds of distress.
And a careful countdown:
Is it 4 NST yet? How 'bout now?
Nope, not yet.

What to do? What to do?
Who will she choose?
We look around.
The poets are here,
The comics too,

And each one waits.
The Storytellers number themselves,
Silently, of course,
Because, really, who wants to admit
What we're all thinking?

Two weeks.
Twenty parts.
Twenty-one of us.
Three fifty.
Three fifty-five.

Four comes and goes.
Four fifteen.
Four twenty.
The news is out,
The new Times and Poems too.

But no ending.
Four twenty-five.
Four thirty.
But then... suddenly... there are two?
We look around.

Two weeks.
Twenty-one parts.
It seems the surprises
Of the magical Five Hundredth Contest
Aren't quite over.

You see,
There are two endings.

500th Storytelling Quest
By Agedbeauty

The Storyteller's pen,
An epic tale of Light
And Dark, of Kith and Kin,
In the quest for the 500.

New characters are born,
And new worlds will arise,
Yet others still we'll mourn,
In the quest for the 500.

One story we compose,
Another we submit,
The writing pile grows,
In the quest for the 500.

We struggle to create,
As the story takes its shape,
New plot twists we debate,
In the quest for the 500.

And as we pen our prose,
Each scene not selected
Pains, but that's how it goes,
In the quest for the 500.

And still the startling face
Of a young newcomer
The Talesmiths did embrace,
In the quest for the 500.

But finally, rejoice,
For the tale has ended.
Each writer had their voice,
In the Tale of the 500.