NIMMO DAY SPECIAL

Nimmo's Wisdom
By Foolses_coolses

Perched on a stack of three great books,
Reading about heroes and villainous crooks,
A Nimmo sits hunched in concentration
In another world of imagination.

The only sound is the turning of pages
Until in comes a source of the Nimmo's wages,
As the welcome bell tinkles he jumps to his feet,
"Good evening, madam, are my books not elite?"

The Ixi smiles sweetly, "Yes sir, they are,
And all for a book I have come very far,
King Hagan, you see, is offering a prize
To the deliverer of the book
That is the most wise."

For a moment the Nimmo just strokes his chin,
He thinks and then gives an inside grin,
He plucks a thin book off a nearby shelf
And knows it will please King Hagan himself.

Nimmos the simple red title reads,
It's a book of great wisdom,
A book of great deeds,
Of Neopia's amphibians, both great and small,
Of the pets that have come to be loved by all.

On Nimmo's Pond
By FaerieStories

Oh Nimmo Day is here at last,
The time has come now, oh so fast!
Break out the ribbons, bows and flies
And other Nimmo Day Supplies.

On Nimmo's Pond
The creatures sing
To celebrate their day in spring.
On Nimmo's Pond
They wave and clap,
For now is not a time for nap!

A day of training makes us strong
(And free, at that, we can't go wrong).
Our faces on books and on new cakes,
New items too and maybe milkshakes.

On Nimmo's Pond
We splash and play
To look our best out on display.
On Nimmo's Pond
This day is ours
From rise of sun to shine of stars.

And as the end of day draws near
We will look forward to next year,
When we can again come out and say,
Have a hopping Nimmo Day!

Nimmo Limbo
By Schefflera

When the mist is on the water,
And the lily-pads are green,
If in quiet you don't falter,
You may spy a mystic scene
Where the lily-pads are green.

In the midst of month Relaxing
When the Ides are Nimmo Day,
Games serene and deeply taxing
Are the ones that Nimmos play
Celebrating Nimmo Day.

For the Nimmos' limbs are agile
And in mind their power lies.
Though you may think they look fragile,
You will find that thought unwise,
For in mind their power lies.

Watch and learn from Nimmo Limbo
As it's played across the pond.
For 'twill be a skillful Nimmo
Who skims lowest 'neath the frond
As they play across the pond.

Maybe not the greatest fighter,
Though you mustn't rule that out
For the warrior and writer
Both have magic for this bout,
So the wise rule nothing out.

See them glide beneath the marker-
Frond as scores are made and kept
As the evening dims to darker,
Just one winner will accept
Prizes for the score that kept.

Watch the marker-frond fall lower
As contestants glide beneath.
As they pass below it slower,
Who will win the victory wreath
Of the ones who glide beneath?

Lower yet and yet still lower
O'er the surface dip and glide
Just an inch the water over,
Still on through they blithely slide,
Still on through they lithely glide.

Now a breath above the water!
How can life still pass the cleft?
Many fail mind-over-matter,
But the last shall flatly drift
And pass safely through the rift!

Gorunda's Warning
By Ladyariel32

In the Lost Desert, one night so cold,
When the navy sky held but a few stars pale,
And a thin sliver of the moon to behold,
Sahkmet was filled with the wind's ethereal wail.

Muted footsteps were heard shuffling in the sand
As a figure emerged from the palace shadow,
Walking slowly with brown staff in hand
And sighing as if there were no tomorrow.

She was a blue Nimmo, a hideous crone
With bright yellow eyes rimmed with red,
A body so thin, almost exposed to the bone,
And a smirk that held secrets unsaid.

She stopped by the bank to rest her feet
And drink from the desert
River's cerulean waters
She recalled Princess Vyssa
Whom she'd come to meet,
Had warned of impending danger.

"Heed me for I am Gorunda the Wise,
Terror of the Haunted Woods," she had cried,
"The Rock Beast is coming so take my advice,
Evacuate everyone and hide!"

But the royal Usul princess had closed her ears,
Had ordered the guards to throw the old hag out;
She knew not that Gorunda
Was the best of seers,
That her words were true without a doubt.

Gorunda stood up though her legs ached badly,
Shaking herself out of her fog;
"Poor obtuse princess," she said rather sadly,
"You will regret not listening to the old hag."

In the Lost Desert, one night so cold,
When the navy sky held but a few stars pale,
And a thin sliver of the moon to behold,
Gorunda listened to the wind's ethereal wail.