POOGLE DAY SPECIAL

Poogle Finery
by Indulgences

I have a tiny Poogle blue
And I am loath to change her hue.
She's simply perfect as can be
And merits no more finery.

Her temperament's as fine as silk
As does befit one of her ilk
For Poogles are a winning breed
Of beauty, class, and looks, indeed.

Her eyes are of the softest black.
In terms of kindness, there's no lack
Of sweetness in her Poogle face.
She's living, breathing, loving grace.

My Poogle needs no finery,
All Poogle owners must agree.
She's simply fine as Poogles come,
My sweet and tiny sugarplum!

Poogle Five
by Amitybelle

Poogle Five has been described
As being rather chubby.
But racing every fifteen minutes
Is sure to make a Poogle hungry.

Racing fans from far and wide
Come to bet and cheer.
Poogle Five is much more fond of
All the food they bring to share.

Other racers gobble fruit,
But his favourites are the sweets.
Four other Poogles race along,
While Five devours his treats.

The crowd erupts in applause
As a Poogle wins the race,
But no smile is quite as large as
Five's chocolate-covered face.

Uncased Robot Poogle
by Carrotbreath

I hear a Poogle is quite a sight to behold.
Yet it's not fulfilling to just be told.
But you just may see more than you desire
When you catch a glimpse of a robot's wire.
With its yellow and blue toy-like shell,
While underneath lights and teeth dwell.

Bare, the robot Poogle appears a dream,
The type in which you scream and scream.
For it has an exterior as dark as night
With exposed wires left and right,
And jagged teeth appear when it smiles
With blinding lights for eyes, so vile.

Like the Soup Kitchen without a meal,
Like a carrot without its peel;
I can only bear this sight so long,
Wrong, just wrong!
Place the casings back without delay
Or others, too, will fall prey.

The Malevolent Sentient Plushie Poogle
by Jokerless

Cute and cuddly, lying
Softly stuffed and stitched 
Red eyes glowing as
His mouth begins to twitch
A sinister smile starts
To form upon his face
He's finally back again! 
And he's going to your place 

Gradually creeping quietly
From window to floor
Tiptoe by tiptoe silent
Watchful eye on the door
Within a dusty corner
Resides a chest of toys
Full to the brim, unlocked
For children to enjoy

Cackling ever so madly
Clutching a plushie or two
Retreating at the sound of
Approaching footsteps' cue
Someone was coming! 
Dropping all to hide
He concealed himself
Swiftly next to your bedside

No trace of malevolence
Struggling not to squirm
As a hand scoops him up 
And lay him down firm 
Inside in the chest locked
Patiently awaiting the day
When the lid will be lifted
And dearly the world will pay!

(An Overly Flowery) Ode To Alstaf
by Togepi_forever

Lo! Alstaf Poogle,
Poet laureate supreme
Glory shines upon thee
Like golden, sunny beams

Your words flow smooth as silver 
Your verses - how sublime!
Truly the great work of a 
Leader in his prime!

You paint elegant pictures
With your perfectly chosen words;
Declaiming with more mastery of
Rhythm than the birds

Your moon-kissed fur shines softly;
Your voice rings smooth as silk
Countless searches could not find
Another of your ilk.

Regale us, regal Alstaf!
We come for you alone!
We promise you're by far the finest
Poet ever known.

The Poogle Races
by Dr_tomoe

On a cloud in Faerieland
Or at least before the crash,
Is an event that everyone can enjoy
And it always is a smash.

The Poogle Races come
Four times in an hour
And it's a sport that's fun
And will never really sour.

Every Neopian can place a bet
On Poogles One through Five.
Although most know who they'd bet on
Before they even arrive.

Poogle One is the favorite,
Fast and with good jumps enacted.
Poogle Two is another good choice
The fastest, but easily distracted.

Poogle Three has bursts of speed
But his jumps are less then sublime
Poogle Four was once the best
But is now past his time.

And finally, Poogle Five
Bringing up the rear.
He really could be the best
If only he exercised this year.

Despite the odds, all five Poogles
Definitely have a shot to win.
And you can tell who has picked a winner
Since they'll be wearing a grin.

The next race starts soon,
So pick the Poogle that's second to none
And as you watch the race
You can cheer for your champion.

A Poogle in the Dark
by Kaddiez

Close the lights,
Bid good night,
Time to get some rest.

But sleep don't come,
You've heard someone,
Is there a monster under your bed?

A cackle you hear,
Mom said not to fear,
But she didn’t see it in the dark.

Big red eyes,
A laugh you despise,
A maniacal plushie long forgotten.

Get to sleep,
It haunts your dreams,
A Poogle with patched arms.

Wake up in fright,
Run to the lights,
But too late - it's long departed.

Tell your mother,
But you're being a bother,
And she doesn’t listen to what you say.

Peek in your room,
An evil  looms,
Malevolence in the shadows.

A Poetic Poogle Day
by Xxzippofreakxx

His quill moves quick across the parchment,
The air of celebration hangs like a fog.
Alstaf Poogle is quickly writing his prose,
It's Poogle Day for the poetry watchdog.

Entries from all over the lands come in,
Alstaf mulls over every page and piece.
Only the best works get past his keen eye,
With each new contest, 
It's the greatest he does release.

Working long, grueling hours into the night,
A celebration like today 
Is what he needs the most.
Kick back all day and listen 
To others read their work,
Take pride in the fact 
Only the top poems do post.

Forget all the banquets and the parties,
Alstaf would rather sit back 
Than stand up to dance.
But a good poetry reading is always enjoyed,
To find a reading in the Catacombs 
Is a lucky chance.

Scribble your pens down 
On paper in honor of Alstaf,
He'll make sure your prose does past the test.
Upon his legendary wall your poem will stand,
And he'll smile as he reads over the best.

Dearest Alstaf, we appreciate all your hard work,
Without you, the world would have less spring.
Your poetry keeps our imaginations alive,
We all love it when you do your thing!

The Poogle Race
by Secant

Five Poogles at the starting line
Amidst the cheering crowds.
The blue sky was breezily fine
With extra puffy clouds.

The bidders just want to win,
The Poogles want to run.
"Two hundred Neopoints on the spin
To bet on Poogle One!"

Five Poogles getting ready
For the final race.
Poogle Five is steady
But has quite a slackened pace.

Four Poogles in the lead,
Each determined to do its best.
Poogle Four loses speed
And falls behind the rest.

Three Poogles in the struggle,
Panting with their might.
Poogle Three stops to juggle
Three apples that appeared in sight.

Poogle Two and Poogle One
Are not distracted nor slow.
But Poogle Two gets tired
And off Poogle One would go.

Winner! Winner! We have a winner!
Poogle One won the race.
Avatar, prizes, and a festive dinner --
And please, give the Poogles some space.

The Terror of the MSPP
by Ladygaladriel213

An evil cackle breaks through the night
Mist swirls about in streaks.
You're chilled to the bone as you look around
And you shiver as you hear a shriek.

It splits the air as though a knife
Cutting through your fear.
You strain your ears for something good
But evil is all you hear.

A flash of yellow off to your right
You hear the sound of plush!
And yet, nothing materialises 
You start to sweat and feel your face flush.

You dig in your pocket, you must have a torch
Something to shine in this black.
You come up triumphant, the light in your fist
Now you are able to fight back!

You switch the light on and look around
Sweeping it left and right.
But you were not expecting 
What form takes shape
The most terrifying evil sight.

Malevolent Sentient Poogle Plushie
He stands with a cocky grin.
His eyes glow red as the darkest rubies
And you know you cannot win.

You take a fumbling step backwards
And trip over rubble and debris.
Your legs then betray you
You're frozen and cannot flee.

The MSPP stands tall 
Languishing in his way.
"Wait! Please don't run!
I just wanted to wish you Happy Poogle Day!"

In Recognition of Alstaf
by Chavo_guerrero

Alstaf is a Poogle,
A pink, artistic bard,
Judge of the Poetry Contest,
Although he admits this is hard.

Poor Alstaf is a busy guy,
As he sorts through poems and verse,
Sometimes his job's a blessing,
But often it's a curse.

It's his job to decide who gets to win,
He reads and picks the best,
But sometimes it's a difficult task,
With many as good as the rest!

He furrows his brow as he concentrates,
And sifts though more and more,
Sonnets, haikus, and couplets,
Ballads and limericks galore.

He separates into piles,
And then browses through once again,
Picking his very favourites,
As he chews on the end of his pen.

But when Poogle Day rolls rounds at last,
A scholar can relax,
Have himself a breather,
Without having to think of facts.

For on this one day of the year,
Alstaf does not work,
He finds someone to cover him,
And says this is his perk.

He laughs with all the others,
And has a splendid day,
With no annoying poetry,
Getting in his way.

But when Poogle Day is over,
With his beret on his head,
Alstaf strolls to see the poems,
That on Poogle Day were read.

For although he enjoys his day off,
He's glad to get back home,
For surrounded by his verses,
He never feels alone.

Let's give a thought to Alstaf,
As you write your newest rhymes,
He does a lot for poets,
We should cheer him on sometimes!

Ioqa and the Faerie Poogle
by Agedbeauty

Ioqa flew, gold scales agleam
Content that alone he did fly.
Confidently, he flew truly,
Forward through clouds in great supply.

Until one day he chanced to meet
Amidst the clouds one sunny day,
One old bright soul who flew along,
In the form of a Poogle Fae.

She had a laugh that rang like bells,
And a smile that seemed only to grow.
“Greetings, fine Ioqa,” said she,
“Wherefore does your smile fail to show?”

“Fly on, my Poogle Fae,” said he,
“This flying is for me alone.”
So said, he flew smartly forward,
For he refused to be outshone.

But this fine Poogle Fae was bold,
And this Poogle Fae could well fly.
Each wingstroke she did match neatly,
With a face both solemn and wry.

And said she, “Flying is a dance,
And dances are best wrought in pairs.
Won’t you dance, my Ioqa fine,
As we alight upon the airs?”

Inside Ioqa, a strange thing
Woke and spurred him to grasp the chance,
To share the beauty he’d kept alone,
With one he knew also loved the dance.

So they flew, lavender and gold,
Filling the sky with their wonder.
Upwards and downwards, through clouds,
Through sunlight, over and under.

Draik of Gold and Poogle Fae,
Whirled and dove through the sky of blue.
With joy infusing each wing-beat,
As his dance of one spread to two.

And when she left, her smile broad,
Who had dared not to dance alone,
Ioqa dared to smile too,
For their dance had the sun outshone.

The Thrill of the Poogle Race
by Saqo

Up to the mark they confidently step
ready to prove they are the best.
Never losing concentration, what they
want is to win above all the rest.

Racing is what these Poogle are best
known for. The pride of Faerieland.
Cheer for your favourite, among the
rest of the large crowds of fans.

Will you root for Poogle One? 
Or perhaps Two or Four? One thing
is for sure, if you bet on the right
one, lots of Neopoints you could win!

So step right up, and make your bet.
And feed your Poogle something good.
Then join the crowd and cheer
your heart out, if you could.

Today is Poogle Day and what a better
way to spend it, than raising
the confidence of a Poogle - prove
it's better because of it's training.

Today in Faerieland, and all across
Neopia, hoards of Neopians far and wide
celebrate Poogles in one way or
another, racing is just one side.

But what a way, indeed! What a thrill to 
see! Your Poogle racing against the pack.
And it's just a little bonus that you
may win some points, or a big stack!

Poogles should be proud - their breed 
is certainly rare and well liked, indeed.
But another thing that steps some apart,
is their success that stems from speed!

Here's to Poogle Day, and Happy Racing!

Ode to the Poogle Poet
by Sordid

Hark! The song of verse doth call,
From realm so dark and deep.
Beneath terra the tunnels stretch,
There catacombs do sweep.
They stretch forever on and on,
Beyond what words can tell.
And there, within the shadowed depths,
A poet bard doth dwell.

Alstaf, celebrated one,
There doth write, converse.
Teaching poets to create,
And weaving brilliant verse.
A simple flick of feathered quill,
A magic will appear.
For Alstaf writes the work so grand,
The best poems one can hear.

So journey forth, ambitious friend,
If poems you wish to write.
Find the Poogle scribe below,
His cavern glows with light.
Listen forth to all he'll teach,
The skills one must rehearse.
For Alstaf is the muse you seek,
When writing fluent verse.

Moogi, a True Poogle Racer
by __Cows_r_cool__

The clouds, the sun, the mountain
All still and silent.
Cold and clear, the snow
Numbs my paws.

Concentration.
The captain calls us to our marks.
All I can hear is the silence,
And then we are running.

My heart races,
Even faster than my paws.
Down the mountain,
The world blurs around me.

I am the wind, I thought.
Snow gives way to sky:
The cliff, the cold face.
All is silent, and I jump.

The air roars in my ears,
I am gliding on cold currents.
My paws are far from the snow,
My spirit soars higher.

I dive, I spin, and the mountain
Is above me once more.
I am going to win.
The snow embraces me.

The captain cheers,
And hands me a badge.
I've won the race.
My spirit soars again.

I feel like racing the desert,
Or gliding over the sea,
The clouds, the sun, the mountain.
I'm a true Poogle Racer.

Alstaf Poogle
by Jjquil

Alstaf Poogle, this is for you 
Rhymester, lyricist, Neopia's bard
With your classy beret worn just askew 
A poet's poet, the true diehard. 

We writers flock to the Catacombs
To catch your every syllable 
Your presence makes it feel like home
Your verses inspire us to the full.

Alstaf, coral pink but dressed so dark  
To us, you are a familiar face 
You give us that creative spark 
Here in our weekly meeting place.  

We scribble down our own first drafts
And read them, echoing, in the grotto
Receiving tips to improve our craft 
Spoken boldly in staccato. 

Poetic Poogle, you are our muse 
The coolest composer in the cafe; 
Nodding and smiling as you peruse 
The Poetry Gallery submissions today.

The Poogle Parade
by Alex915956

A day comes once every year, 
In which every Neopet has come to fear.
A day when no other 'pets are noticed at all, 
It's the Poogle Parade, what a ball!

The nineteenth day of the month of Gathering,
All the Poogles are up and ready to sing.
A day devoted to no one but them, 
That day they are as valued 
As the most priceless gem.

Green, red, yellow, and blue Poogles galore, 
Only a few are released, 
How I wish there were more!
Through out the day new Poogles are set free,
To be adopted by anyone, even you and me. 

New Poogles parade through the streets,
Given lots of love and showered with treats.
It’s such a fun day and it leaves you to say,
Oh, why can't the Poogle Parade be every day?

We're Going To The Poogle Races!
by Brittanyftw

Ahhh, what a glorious day,
We're going to see the races, yay!
Sigh, now here comes the kick, 
which Poogle do I pick?

I could pick Poogle One,
I mean, last time he won.
He's pretty fast, and great with jumps,
He might be my pick when the time comes.

I bet you can guess who,
Next is Poogle Two.
He gets distracted easily, but is so fast,
Maybe, just maybe, he won't come in last.

Poogle Three may be the choice for me,
I mean, just look at his burst of speed!
Though like the downfall of Humpty Dumpty
He is pretty darn clumsy.

Poogle Four, what a great choice.
Just taking a gander, he has great poise.
Though he is old and has lost his speed,
Why did I say he's a good choice for me?

The last Poogle is Poogle Five,
He gained a few pounds on the side.
Has he been getting exercise, really?!?
He's starting to look like a little piggy...

Well, time to go, I must make a choice!
Maybe the Poogle that has great poise?
Ugh, I like all these Poogles, i'm so bighearted,
Oh, wait... has the race already started?

Poogle Parades
by Brittanybear_

"It's Poogle Day, Poogle Day!"
We all shout out loud
The one day all year,
Where we Poogles stand proud.

Neopia stops and stares,
As the parades pass by;
Even the Poogles on Kreludor
Are partying in the sky!

Floats of golden Poogles,
Across the land they ride 
Plushie Poogle Plushies
Miraculously sized!

Snowberry Poogle Cakes aplenty,
Poogle poetry afar,
Come and share the culture,
Alstaf is on demand!

Young, old, and dandy,
We'll dance through the streets;
Anyone can join,
Join the Poogle beat!

No matter your colour,
Level, or size 
Poogles of all shapes,
Let's march with pride!

A Restocking Poem.
by Mellen48

Lurking in the bushes,
Refreshing on the nines;
Body tensed and waiting;
A Poogle there reclines.

His muscles taut and ready,
His claws they rend the ground,
As waiting ain't the strongest suit;
Of the beastliest Poogle around.

F5 again, it yields no change,
And the hunter grinds his teeth;
He's hungry for a restock
It's been too long, in his belief.

F5 and... there! The items change!
And THERE a prey appears
In this restock, sitting unaware
An unbuyble premiers.

His tensed body hurls through the air,
Before the page has loaded;
The Poogle hunter sees his prey
Into action he's exploded!

Fangs are bared and claws are out;
As he bears down on the catch,
Dextrous and quick he has to be,
For there are others he must outmatch.

The click, the confirm; ok!
And on to haggle screen
The fearsome hunter holds the prey,
Deftly types thirty-two thirteen.

The capcha clicked, completion
And then there is a lag...
Has another hunter beat the Beast?
Been faster to the snag?

The final screen loads, and yes! Success!
The shopkeepers says
"UB has been added to your Inventory"

The Poogle roars his triumph
At his victorious kill,
His strength and speed and patience,
His practiced restocking skill.

The prey is safely dealt with
The stains from claws are cleaned;
Then back into the bushes,
Slinks the hunting, restocking fiend.