Post by Stephanie (swordlilly) on Aug 8, 2023 18:55:26 GMT -5
I've been posting rather too often in the main Poetry thread lately; I guess it's time to make my own thread like Cassie, Kat and a few others have done. This thread will mainly be a deposit box for my Neopets poems so I can keep track of what's been accepted and what needs to be resubmitted. All supportive comments are welcome, including criticism as long as it's written in a constructive manner.
So far I haven't won anything really big in terms of game prizes - the value of all of these prizes added up wouldn't even equal the cost of one stamp. xD But I did have fun writing, regardless. Each poem is special to me and I am grateful to have had it showcased.
ACCEPTED
1. A Villanelle for Eliv Thade, published Feb 10, 2014
2. Ode to Omelette, published Feb 25, 2014
3. Being in a Crowd, published Apr 8, 2014
4. Where the Cybunnies Roam, published Apr 25, 2014
5. Biscuit the Mutant Bearog, published May 9, 2014
6. 我的布玛鼠琪瑞 (My Blumaroo Xurray), published June 2014
7. Venuquin, Guardian of the Seas, published Jul 25, 2014
8. The Baker of Neovia, published Aug 17, 2014
9. Chocolate in the Air, published Sep 14, 2014
10. The Future Tyrannian King, published Nov 20, 2014
11. The Tyrannian JubJub Chant, published Jun 8, 2020
12. The Health Food Quiggle's Song, published Jun 15, 2020
13. Meiadie the Red Ruki, published Jul 29, 2021
14. The Mutant Manifesto, published Aug 26, 2021
15. Gordos, the Master of Gold, published Sep 27, 2021
16. Korbatty Limericks, published Oct 26, 2021
17. Sea Shanties vs. Haikus: Who Will Win? published Jan 20, 2022
18. The Fruits of Mystery Island, published Mar 9, 2022
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Gadgadsbogen, but it was rejected. So I resubmitted it, and it got into this random gallery.
19. Roll, Roll, Roll Your Cheese, published Mar 11, 2022
20. A Young Chomby's Migration, published Mar 24, 2022
21. The Mutant Hissi's Pantoum, published May 4, 2022
22. Mor Gollog, Goalkeeper, published May 13, 2022
23. The Yurble of the Arcanium, published May 27, 2022
24. Seven Colours of the Rainbow, published Jun 10, 2022
25. Peopatra, Saviour of Petpets, published Jul 26, 2022
26. The Bluest Blumaroo, published Aug 8, 2022
27. The Lightest and Hungriest of Meercas, published Aug 18, 2022
28. Ambduscias' Fall: The Tale of a Mutant Eyrie, published Oct 20, 2022
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Eyrie Day the previous year, but it was rejected. Grateful to see it finally included in the next Eyrie Day gallery.
29. Pterattack, published Nov 8, 2022
30. Inside a Holiday Snowglobe, published Jan 3, 2023
31. Princess Terrana's Morning Climb, published Jan 6, 2023
32. Wizards of the Order, Arise! published Jan 19, 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem as a motivational speech, which I posted on the Neoboards and in Discord. xD A lot of people reacted to the Discord post and someone told me I should submit it to the poetry gallery, so I did. The Order unfortunately lost that round, but I was pleasantly surprised to see this poem published.
33. The Vandagyre Scholar by the Sea, published Feb 10, 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Vandagyre Day but it was rejected, so I edited it to make it fit the next theme, which was "By the Sea."
34. Hundreds of Lights, published Feb 21, 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Buzz Day, but it was rejected. I resubmitted it and was very grateful to see it get into the anniversary gallery.
35. How to Fold an Origami Chomby, published Mar 22, 2023
36. The Shoyru from the Dump, published Apr 3, 2023
37. Banana for a Mynci, published Apr 4, 2023
Note: This poem is a parody of "Havana" by Camila Cabello.
38. Kalandra, the Poker Player, published Jun 19, 2023
39. Dance the Acara Way, published Jun 28, 2023
40. The Waitress at Kelp, published Jul 20, 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Uni Day, but it was rejected. I resubmitted for the next random gallery and it was rejected again. Before the third try, I added the final stanza to more fully express the tone shift in the poem; I don't know if that made a difference to the judge or not, but it was finally accepted.
41. A Tale of Two Skeiths, published Aug 11, 2023
42. Put Down Your Feet, published Aug 16, 2023
Note: This poem is inspired by the old design of Blumaroos pre-customisation. I originally wrote it for Blumaroo Day, but it was rejected. Grateful to see it included in the next random gallery!
43. Trapped in the Mountainside Inn (a NeoQuest II poem), published Sep 7, 2023
44. Techo Mountain, published Sep 13, 2023
45. The Pteris' Nest, published Nov 8, 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem inspired by the Draik Nest in Meridell for Meridell Day. It was rejected, so I resubmitted it for Draik Day, and it was again rejected. Finally, I edited it to make it about Pteris' nests and resubmitted it for Pteri Day, and it got in on the third try.
46. The Littlest Usul, published Nov 27, 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Usul Day last year. It was rejected, so I saved it to resubmit this year, and it got in this time!
47. The Bruce Skater, published December 2023
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Bruce Day, but it was rejected. A few weeks later, it got into the Day of Giving gallery.
48. Kentari, the Weapons Handler, published Apr 2, 2024
So far I haven't won anything really big in terms of game prizes - the value of all of these prizes added up wouldn't even equal the cost of one stamp. xD But I did have fun writing, regardless. Each poem is special to me and I am grateful to have had it showcased.
ACCEPTED
1. A Villanelle for Eliv Thade, published Feb 10, 2014
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
That's kind of you, but can't you see I'm trapped?
Your lovely words will never set me free.
I'm trapped by words, wordsmith, can't you see?
Within these puzzles always I'll be wrapped.
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
I say go home, dear wordsmith, leave me be.
I have no words for you that are untapped.
My cause of death was word-insanity.
They say I started seeing "reet" in "tree."
If you don't go, you, too, will be entrapped.
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
I'm telling you, fool wordsmith, leave me be!
You would not wish to see "aprt" in "rapt."
This way lies only loss of sanity.
Yet still you play with what extinguished me.
With joy you mould the words till they adapt.
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
Your lovely words will never set me free.
That's kind of you, but can't you see I'm trapped?
Your lovely words will never set me free.
I'm trapped by words, wordsmith, can't you see?
Within these puzzles always I'll be wrapped.
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
I say go home, dear wordsmith, leave me be.
I have no words for you that are untapped.
My cause of death was word-insanity.
They say I started seeing "reet" in "tree."
If you don't go, you, too, will be entrapped.
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
I'm telling you, fool wordsmith, leave me be!
You would not wish to see "aprt" in "rapt."
This way lies only loss of sanity.
Yet still you play with what extinguished me.
With joy you mould the words till they adapt.
You say you'll write a villanelle for me.
Your lovely words will never set me free.
2. Ode to Omelette, published Feb 25, 2014
Upon the plain thou layest soft and warm,
Thy glorious fragrance drawing one and all:
The hungry crowds from yonder Concert Hall,
The Chombies large and Blumaroos small.
Here they storm
In answer to thy appetizing call.
A restless line the would-be diners form;
Some stomp or fly, while others slowly crawl.
Prepared with sauces, veggies, fruits and all,
The line looks like a multi-coloured scrawl.
"Om nom-nom!"
Across the plain the munching sounds fall.
Thy name upon each happy Neopet's lips:
"What did you get?" "Chokato omelette!"
"I got my favourite cheese omelette!"
So many lives depend on omelette
That, shouldst thou leave,
We'll never be the same, omelette.
Thy glorious fragrance drawing one and all:
The hungry crowds from yonder Concert Hall,
The Chombies large and Blumaroos small.
Here they storm
In answer to thy appetizing call.
A restless line the would-be diners form;
Some stomp or fly, while others slowly crawl.
Prepared with sauces, veggies, fruits and all,
The line looks like a multi-coloured scrawl.
"Om nom-nom!"
Across the plain the munching sounds fall.
Thy name upon each happy Neopet's lips:
"What did you get?" "Chokato omelette!"
"I got my favourite cheese omelette!"
So many lives depend on omelette
That, shouldst thou leave,
We'll never be the same, omelette.
3. Being in a Crowd, published Apr 8, 2014
I like walking through the plaza
And looking at the shops.
They've Chrysaberry pizza
And Chocolate Neodrops.
I like listening to the sounds
Of Neopets saying "Hi!"
As they make their merry rounds
And briskly pass me by.
There's something very comforting
'Bout being in a crowd.
There's nothing like the silence
You can find when all is loud.
I like walking past the rainbow
'Neath which Neopets like to swim.
They dip and splash, and presto!
They are shining head to limb.
I like listening to the auctions
Of things I can't afford,
Like bubbling concoctions
Or a plushie, or a sword.
There's something very comforting
'Bout being in a crowd.
There's nothing like the silence
You can find when all is loud.
I like being on my own
Where nobody can hear me.
I'm as dull-grey as a stone;
I blend with Neopets near me.
A shopper rushing past
Would never see me there.
Restockers running fast
Would ne'er return my stare.
There's something very comforting
'Bout being in a crowd.
There's nothing like the silence
You can find when all is loud.
And looking at the shops.
They've Chrysaberry pizza
And Chocolate Neodrops.
I like listening to the sounds
Of Neopets saying "Hi!"
As they make their merry rounds
And briskly pass me by.
There's something very comforting
'Bout being in a crowd.
There's nothing like the silence
You can find when all is loud.
I like walking past the rainbow
'Neath which Neopets like to swim.
They dip and splash, and presto!
They are shining head to limb.
I like listening to the auctions
Of things I can't afford,
Like bubbling concoctions
Or a plushie, or a sword.
There's something very comforting
'Bout being in a crowd.
There's nothing like the silence
You can find when all is loud.
I like being on my own
Where nobody can hear me.
I'm as dull-grey as a stone;
I blend with Neopets near me.
A shopper rushing past
Would never see me there.
Restockers running fast
Would ne'er return my stare.
There's something very comforting
'Bout being in a crowd.
There's nothing like the silence
You can find when all is loud.
4. Where the Cybunnies Roam, published Apr 25, 2014
Where the mountain streams unfreeze,
Clear light shining in the trees.
Tinkling crystals underpaw,
Blades of grass still crisp from thaw.
A glimpse of white fur here and there,
Thick as snow and quick as air.
Beyond the slope, a Cybunny
Sniffs the air and turns to flee.
Rarely do they wander out
To where the warmer flowers sprout,
But, once a year, on Cybunny Day
You may just see them come to play.
You may just be permitted to
Touch a bunny who comes to you,
Who, at the end of Cybunny Day,
Makes the unusual choice to stay.
But if you take a Cybunny home,
Please remember where they roam.
Remember the land of icy streams;
Keep their past in your thoughts and dreams.
Clear light shining in the trees.
Tinkling crystals underpaw,
Blades of grass still crisp from thaw.
A glimpse of white fur here and there,
Thick as snow and quick as air.
Beyond the slope, a Cybunny
Sniffs the air and turns to flee.
Rarely do they wander out
To where the warmer flowers sprout,
But, once a year, on Cybunny Day
You may just see them come to play.
You may just be permitted to
Touch a bunny who comes to you,
Who, at the end of Cybunny Day,
Makes the unusual choice to stay.
But if you take a Cybunny home,
Please remember where they roam.
Remember the land of icy streams;
Keep their past in your thoughts and dreams.
5. Biscuit the Mutant Bearog, published May 9, 2014
Alone in the forest a Bearog strayed,
Alone because he had only one head.
He tried to join the others in the glade,
But they all remarked,
"We'd rather drop dead."
How he wished he were normal like them,
With three heads, three tongues,
Six ears and six eyes.
Oh, how he longed to fit in with them,
To have a self of triple size.
But no, he only had the one head,
One voice, two eyes, one sorrowful face.
Many a miserable tear he shed
As he hid alone in the nowhere-place.
Until, one day, a Wocky came near
And said, "What a beautiful Petpet you are!
Do you belong to anyone here?
You don't? Oh, wow! Now that's just bizarre!"
She scooped him up in her gentle arms
And tried to help him find his home.
She carried him past fields and farms,
To where the normal Bearogs roam.
But he snuggled close and wouldn't go.
"This isn't my home," he tried to say.
She looked and suddenly seemed to know
What it was he'd been trying to convey.
From that moment on he had a name,
A family, and a place where he could stay.
Biscuit the Bearog will never be the same.
He is loved and accepted, no longer a stray.
Alone because he had only one head.
He tried to join the others in the glade,
But they all remarked,
"We'd rather drop dead."
How he wished he were normal like them,
With three heads, three tongues,
Six ears and six eyes.
Oh, how he longed to fit in with them,
To have a self of triple size.
But no, he only had the one head,
One voice, two eyes, one sorrowful face.
Many a miserable tear he shed
As he hid alone in the nowhere-place.
Until, one day, a Wocky came near
And said, "What a beautiful Petpet you are!
Do you belong to anyone here?
You don't? Oh, wow! Now that's just bizarre!"
She scooped him up in her gentle arms
And tried to help him find his home.
She carried him past fields and farms,
To where the normal Bearogs roam.
But he snuggled close and wouldn't go.
"This isn't my home," he tried to say.
She looked and suddenly seemed to know
What it was he'd been trying to convey.
From that moment on he had a name,
A family, and a place where he could stay.
Biscuit the Bearog will never be the same.
He is loved and accepted, no longer a stray.
6. 我的布玛鼠琪瑞 (My Blumaroo Xurray), published June 2014
Chinese:
琪瑞是一只奶油冻布玛鼠
她看起来甜甜的, 静静的
但她威风极了
你别看她秀丽的外貌
琪瑞是巧克力王国的女王
她手下有许多奶油冻非比
她一发出命令
所有的非比立即上前
琪瑞派它们到失落的沙漠
到光明圣谷, 到精灵仙境
她只要手一挥
诱人的香味传遍世界
English translation:
Xurray is a Custard Blumaroo
She seems shy and sweet
But she's a lot stronger than she looks
Don't be fooled by her appearance
Xurray is the Queen of Chocolate Country
She has an army of Custard Feepits at her command
All she needs to do is give the order
And they will charge forth
Xurray sends them to the Lost Desert
To Brightvale, to Faerieland
All she needs to do is wave her hand
And fragrance saturates the world
琪瑞是一只奶油冻布玛鼠
她看起来甜甜的, 静静的
但她威风极了
你别看她秀丽的外貌
琪瑞是巧克力王国的女王
她手下有许多奶油冻非比
她一发出命令
所有的非比立即上前
琪瑞派它们到失落的沙漠
到光明圣谷, 到精灵仙境
她只要手一挥
诱人的香味传遍世界
English translation:
Xurray is a Custard Blumaroo
She seems shy and sweet
But she's a lot stronger than she looks
Don't be fooled by her appearance
Xurray is the Queen of Chocolate Country
She has an army of Custard Feepits at her command
All she needs to do is give the order
And they will charge forth
Xurray sends them to the Lost Desert
To Brightvale, to Faerieland
All she needs to do is wave her hand
And fragrance saturates the world
7. Venuquin, Guardian of the Seas, published Jul 25, 2014
A Kougra and Skeith tried not to cry
As they bobbed along in their little boat.
Their fishing trip had gone awry
And now they fought to stay afloat.
The rain and fog was thickening fast;
They had no choice but to bail and bail.
"How far till land?" young Kino asked.
Skib tried to see, but to no avail.
And then they felt a swelling wave
Lift up their boat with the gentlest ease.
"It's her!" cried Skib, "Who's come to save--"
Venuquin, Guardian of the Seas.
Without a word, the Peophin swam
Behind the islanders' tiny boat.
Her mane was a mass of reed and clam
And glimmering fish, and pearly mote.
The storm fell back with a fading roar;
Ahead, a shape surged into view.
Kino exclaimed, "I see the shore!"
Skib's face was sodden, through and through.
They stumbled onto the soft, warm sand
And lay for a while to catch their breath.
"We made it," said Skib. "We're back on land!"
Kino replied, "We've cheated death!"
Together they turned around to thank
Their savior from the stormy deep.
But they now saw nothing, not even a flank;
Only the sea remained, sound asleep.
As they bobbed along in their little boat.
Their fishing trip had gone awry
And now they fought to stay afloat.
The rain and fog was thickening fast;
They had no choice but to bail and bail.
"How far till land?" young Kino asked.
Skib tried to see, but to no avail.
And then they felt a swelling wave
Lift up their boat with the gentlest ease.
"It's her!" cried Skib, "Who's come to save--"
Venuquin, Guardian of the Seas.
Without a word, the Peophin swam
Behind the islanders' tiny boat.
Her mane was a mass of reed and clam
And glimmering fish, and pearly mote.
The storm fell back with a fading roar;
Ahead, a shape surged into view.
Kino exclaimed, "I see the shore!"
Skib's face was sodden, through and through.
They stumbled onto the soft, warm sand
And lay for a while to catch their breath.
"We made it," said Skib. "We're back on land!"
Kino replied, "We've cheated death!"
Together they turned around to thank
Their savior from the stormy deep.
But they now saw nothing, not even a flank;
Only the sea remained, sound asleep.
8. The Baker of Neovia, published Aug 17, 2014
Each day when the bell tolls eight
In the centre of the town,
The Crumpetmonger reaches up
To pull her shutters down.
Morning's always somewhat dim
In this corner of the Woods;
The Meerca deftly lights her lamps
And bakes her pies and goods.
South of her little bakery,
Her Ogrin neighbour Bart
Stands waving cheerfully to her
From his apple-bobbing cart.
Next door to her is the furniture shop
Where the Nimmo, Chesterdrawers,
Works with his jar and polishing-rag
On his tables, chairs and floors.
Her earliest guests are the newspaper boys
On their way to the printing press;
They like their scones and croissants hot
And their butter soft and fresh.
In the afternoon the paper's out,
Folks gather in the square.
Young girls emerge from the tailor's shop
To breathe the cool, crisp air.
Everyone likes a pastry warm
From the Crumpetmonger's shelves.
The shop girls, newsboys, ladies, gents,
All come to fill themselves.
From early morn to afternoon
The Meerca bakes and sells,
Her shabby dress and soft chef's hat
Abob to the tune of the bells.
In the centre of the town,
The Crumpetmonger reaches up
To pull her shutters down.
Morning's always somewhat dim
In this corner of the Woods;
The Meerca deftly lights her lamps
And bakes her pies and goods.
South of her little bakery,
Her Ogrin neighbour Bart
Stands waving cheerfully to her
From his apple-bobbing cart.
Next door to her is the furniture shop
Where the Nimmo, Chesterdrawers,
Works with his jar and polishing-rag
On his tables, chairs and floors.
Her earliest guests are the newspaper boys
On their way to the printing press;
They like their scones and croissants hot
And their butter soft and fresh.
In the afternoon the paper's out,
Folks gather in the square.
Young girls emerge from the tailor's shop
To breathe the cool, crisp air.
Everyone likes a pastry warm
From the Crumpetmonger's shelves.
The shop girls, newsboys, ladies, gents,
All come to fill themselves.
From early morn to afternoon
The Meerca bakes and sells,
Her shabby dress and soft chef's hat
Abob to the tune of the bells.
9. Chocolate in the Air, published Sep 14, 2014
In the grand ballroom, on the marble tiles,
The Kiko bobs from wall to wall.
Everything has to be just right
For his annual Chocolate Ball.
The crystal lights, the silken drapes,
The chocolate fountain lined with fruit...
Everything has to be just right,
Including the cuffs of his suit.
The music will be played this year
On special chocolate instruments.
Each note, each beat must be played just right,
Without any dissonance.
The vanilla pattern on the drum
Must match the swirls on the chocolate flute.
Every touch has to be just right,
Or else the guests would scoot.
The songs will be known to every guest;
The Kiko has researched in advance.
The order of the songs will be just right
To spur the guests to dance.
Nothing slips past the Kiko's gaze,
Not a single muffin or éclair.
For, the time of the Ball is coming near:
There's chocolate in the air.
The Kiko bobs from wall to wall.
Everything has to be just right
For his annual Chocolate Ball.
The crystal lights, the silken drapes,
The chocolate fountain lined with fruit...
Everything has to be just right,
Including the cuffs of his suit.
The music will be played this year
On special chocolate instruments.
Each note, each beat must be played just right,
Without any dissonance.
The vanilla pattern on the drum
Must match the swirls on the chocolate flute.
Every touch has to be just right,
Or else the guests would scoot.
The songs will be known to every guest;
The Kiko has researched in advance.
The order of the songs will be just right
To spur the guests to dance.
Nothing slips past the Kiko's gaze,
Not a single muffin or éclair.
For, the time of the Ball is coming near:
There's chocolate in the air.
10. The Future Tyrannian King, published Nov 20, 2014
When I grow up I will become
Tyrannian King; you wait and see.
Everyone will run from me.
They'll flap their wings or climb a tree
When they hear my footsteps drum.
My awesome roar will shake the stone
And render wobbly every roof.
It'll drown the sounds of tail and hoof
And make small Neopets cry out, "Oof!
You're crushing my fingerbone!"
Everyone will offer up
Their biggest cuts of omelette.
They'll pile on fruits of violet
And come forth bearing sweet dessert,
And fill my golden cup.
But now, I'm just a baby Grarrl
With tiny teeth and giant dreams.
Oh well, one day I'll leave these streams,
These bottles of milk, and wipes, and creams.
I'm practising my snarl.
When I grow up I will become
Tyrannian King; you wait and see.
My awesome roar will shake the stone
And render wobbly every roof.
Everyone will offer up
Their biggest cuts of omelette,
And hail Tyrannian King.
Just you wait and see.
Tyrannian King; you wait and see.
Everyone will run from me.
They'll flap their wings or climb a tree
When they hear my footsteps drum.
My awesome roar will shake the stone
And render wobbly every roof.
It'll drown the sounds of tail and hoof
And make small Neopets cry out, "Oof!
You're crushing my fingerbone!"
Everyone will offer up
Their biggest cuts of omelette.
They'll pile on fruits of violet
And come forth bearing sweet dessert,
And fill my golden cup.
But now, I'm just a baby Grarrl
With tiny teeth and giant dreams.
Oh well, one day I'll leave these streams,
These bottles of milk, and wipes, and creams.
I'm practising my snarl.
When I grow up I will become
Tyrannian King; you wait and see.
My awesome roar will shake the stone
And render wobbly every roof.
Everyone will offer up
Their biggest cuts of omelette,
And hail Tyrannian King.
Just you wait and see.
11. The Tyrannian JubJub Chant, published Jun 8, 2020
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We're the proudest pom-poms around.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will cheer our teammates on.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will pump the stadium air.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will rock our fluffy hair.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will stomp our big brown feet.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will bounce to the beat.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will wave our Tyrannian bones.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will shake our shiny stones.
Till UUUUUUUGGGG-UGGAAAA!
Our Loryche scores a goal!
And we put into our roars
The whole volume of our soul!
We're the proudest pom-poms around.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will cheer our teammates on.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will pump the stadium air.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will rock our fluffy hair.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will stomp our big brown feet.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will bounce to the beat.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will wave our Tyrannian bones.
Ugg, ugga ugg!
We will shake our shiny stones.
Till UUUUUUUGGGG-UGGAAAA!
Our Loryche scores a goal!
And we put into our roars
The whole volume of our soul!
12. The Health Food Quiggle's Song, published Jun 15, 2020
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
Would you like to buy some nice,
Healthy food for your Neopet?
Maybe some turnips or brown rice?
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
Check out my organic almonds here.
Any Neopet who snacks on these
Will soon have a sharper ear.
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
Come try these omega eggs,
Delicious and full of protein.
Your Neopet will grow stronger legs!
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
How about some apple soup?
It will fortify your Neopet's spine,
And he will no longer stoop!
I have all the most lovely food
From asparagus to cashew milk,
To make your Neopet's eyes shine bright
And his fur as soft as silk.
Would you like to buy some nice,
Healthy food for your Neopet?
Maybe some turnips or brown rice?
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
Check out my organic almonds here.
Any Neopet who snacks on these
Will soon have a sharper ear.
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
Come try these omega eggs,
Delicious and full of protein.
Your Neopet will grow stronger legs!
Lovely, lovely, healthy food!
How about some apple soup?
It will fortify your Neopet's spine,
And he will no longer stoop!
I have all the most lovely food
From asparagus to cashew milk,
To make your Neopet's eyes shine bright
And his fur as soft as silk.
13. Meiadie the Red Ruki, published Jul 29, 2021
Slender-limbed and quick as a blink,
Meiadie flits through the grass,
Through the fields of flowers red and pink,
Right down to the stone-arched pass.
There she sits for a little while,
To feel the sun on her face.
Then she leaps on o'er the old turnstile
And enters the quietest place.
The gravestones stand tall left and right,
Guarding the souls of the dead.
Toward the tree with the patterned light,
Meiadie guides her slowing tread.
She places her armful of flowers down
On the mound where her mother sleeps,
And among the grasses green and brown
She talks a little, then gently weeps.
Then up again like a butterfly
She returns to the fading hills.
It's time again to say goodbye;
Life calls beyond the mills.
Meiadie flits through the grass,
Through the fields of flowers red and pink,
Right down to the stone-arched pass.
There she sits for a little while,
To feel the sun on her face.
Then she leaps on o'er the old turnstile
And enters the quietest place.
The gravestones stand tall left and right,
Guarding the souls of the dead.
Toward the tree with the patterned light,
Meiadie guides her slowing tread.
She places her armful of flowers down
On the mound where her mother sleeps,
And among the grasses green and brown
She talks a little, then gently weeps.
Then up again like a butterfly
She returns to the fading hills.
It's time again to say goodbye;
Life calls beyond the mills.
14. The Mutant Manifesto, published Aug 26, 2021
Hop, flip, slither, crawl,
Come one, come all, big and small.
Gather round and blink your eyes,
Wave your appendages; shake the skies!
Feel the grass and touch the stones,
Feel the life in your blood and bones.
Turn around and raise your face
At your own unhurried, steady pace.
This body of yours that has suffered pain
Has nonetheless carried you, time and again
Through joys and sorrows unique to you.
It isn't perfect, but it's seen you through.
The stares and judgments others may throw
Will fall by the wayside, and you will grow.
Though some days are grey and the hours long,
You have been and will continue to be strong.
So hop, skid, and slither on!
Allow yourself to reach and yawn,
To cry, to roar, to be alive,
To eat, to laugh, to sleep— to thrive.
Come one, come all, big and small.
Gather round and blink your eyes,
Wave your appendages; shake the skies!
Feel the grass and touch the stones,
Feel the life in your blood and bones.
Turn around and raise your face
At your own unhurried, steady pace.
This body of yours that has suffered pain
Has nonetheless carried you, time and again
Through joys and sorrows unique to you.
It isn't perfect, but it's seen you through.
The stares and judgments others may throw
Will fall by the wayside, and you will grow.
Though some days are grey and the hours long,
You have been and will continue to be strong.
So hop, skid, and slither on!
Allow yourself to reach and yawn,
To cry, to roar, to be alive,
To eat, to laugh, to sleep— to thrive.
15. Gordos, the Master of Gold, published Sep 27, 2021
The folks of Altador remember him well:
Counting with his careful claws,
Keeping his neat accounting book,
Checking names with barely a pause.
Many a moneybag was given to him,
But Gordos the Collector never stole.
He went knocking steadily, door to door,
Checking names off his neat ribboned scroll.
A bulky and imposing figure was he,
The orange Skeith weighed down with coin.
His tail-spikes glittered wherever he went;
No one from him dared purloin.
And yet when he placed the pieces of gold
In the king's great treasure vault,
His touch was soft like the gentlest smile.
The king never found a fault.
To thank him for his loyal service,
Altador named him to the council of Twelve.
And to this day his statue stands,
Showing him smiling, hand on his helve.
Counting with his careful claws,
Keeping his neat accounting book,
Checking names with barely a pause.
Many a moneybag was given to him,
But Gordos the Collector never stole.
He went knocking steadily, door to door,
Checking names off his neat ribboned scroll.
A bulky and imposing figure was he,
The orange Skeith weighed down with coin.
His tail-spikes glittered wherever he went;
No one from him dared purloin.
And yet when he placed the pieces of gold
In the king's great treasure vault,
His touch was soft like the gentlest smile.
The king never found a fault.
To thank him for his loyal service,
Altador named him to the council of Twelve.
And to this day his statue stands,
Showing him smiling, hand on his helve.
16. Korbatty Limericks, published Oct 26, 2021
There once was a Korbat named Carl
Who always said things with a snarl.
He would hang from a tree
And glare at the sea
And make rumbly noises like a Grarrl.
His neighbour, a Korbat named Sue
Was different, for she liked to moo.
When Neopians told her
To stop, she grew bolder
And mooed till the roof fell through.
And then there was little old Bob
Who was once every bat's heart-throb.
He still liked to sing
And lift a dainty wing
To place the old kettle on the hob.
The youngest, a Korbat named Star
Was the sanest of the four by far.
She dreamed of the day
She could finally get away
And fly on past the Neopian Bazaar.
Who always said things with a snarl.
He would hang from a tree
And glare at the sea
And make rumbly noises like a Grarrl.
His neighbour, a Korbat named Sue
Was different, for she liked to moo.
When Neopians told her
To stop, she grew bolder
And mooed till the roof fell through.
And then there was little old Bob
Who was once every bat's heart-throb.
He still liked to sing
And lift a dainty wing
To place the old kettle on the hob.
The youngest, a Korbat named Star
Was the sanest of the four by far.
She dreamed of the day
She could finally get away
And fly on past the Neopian Bazaar.
17. Sea Shanties vs. Haikus: Who Will Win? published Jan 20, 2022
What shall we do with Puffo the Waister,
What shall we do with Puffo the Waister,
What shall we do with Puffo the Waister,
When he's had too much to drink?
Give 'im a dose of Marrow Tonic Water,
Make 'im hear the Weewoos' laughter,
Shake 'im up until he's sober,
When he's had too much to drink!
Weigh heigh and up he rises,
Weigh heigh and up he rises,
Ready to charge to'ard Shenkuuvian prizes,
Though he's had too much to drink.
A foreign vessel.
Black-flagged and rough, a wrinkle
On the still water.
A drop of moonlight
Falls onto the blade that grinds
Against the dark stone.
A crow flies away.
Swaying in the dimming night:
A tall crooked tree.
What shall we do with Puffo the Waister,
What shall we do with Puffo the Waister,
When he's had too much to drink?
Give 'im a dose of Marrow Tonic Water,
Make 'im hear the Weewoos' laughter,
Shake 'im up until he's sober,
When he's had too much to drink!
Weigh heigh and up he rises,
Weigh heigh and up he rises,
Ready to charge to'ard Shenkuuvian prizes,
Though he's had too much to drink.
A foreign vessel.
Black-flagged and rough, a wrinkle
On the still water.
A drop of moonlight
Falls onto the blade that grinds
Against the dark stone.
A crow flies away.
Swaying in the dimming night:
A tall crooked tree.
18. The Fruits of Mystery Island, published Mar 9, 2022
The Blobbule is a heavy fruit,
Blue and slippery, covered in knobs.
And when you open it: oh, the juice!
To catch it all is ten faeries' jobs.
The Plumberry doesn't look quite so grand.
It hovers quietly above the soil,
Folding its leaves o'er its squarish bulk,
And yet, inside: the sweetest oil!
The Stramberry is the boldest of all,
A shock of orange in the wood.
It's used in pastries, jams and milks
Everywhere! It's just that good.
The Gruish Melon, blue-orange and furred,
Seems nightmarish at first glance.
But the scent it exudes is fresh and true.
Try me, it says: just give me a chance.
Finally, don't forget the old Lemwart,
Acid-yellow with the sharpest leaves.
A necessity in every tea and pie,
Like gold, or spice: the dream of thieves.
Blue and slippery, covered in knobs.
And when you open it: oh, the juice!
To catch it all is ten faeries' jobs.
The Plumberry doesn't look quite so grand.
It hovers quietly above the soil,
Folding its leaves o'er its squarish bulk,
And yet, inside: the sweetest oil!
The Stramberry is the boldest of all,
A shock of orange in the wood.
It's used in pastries, jams and milks
Everywhere! It's just that good.
The Gruish Melon, blue-orange and furred,
Seems nightmarish at first glance.
But the scent it exudes is fresh and true.
Try me, it says: just give me a chance.
Finally, don't forget the old Lemwart,
Acid-yellow with the sharpest leaves.
A necessity in every tea and pie,
Like gold, or spice: the dream of thieves.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Gadgadsbogen, but it was rejected. So I resubmitted it, and it got into this random gallery.
19. Roll, Roll, Roll Your Cheese, published Mar 11, 2022
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
Merrily down the hill.
When you see the Turmaculus,
Try your best to chill!
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
Round the Turdle track.
How fast can those Turdles crawl?
Steer straight and don't look back!
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
Past the Petpet stall.
Careful now; you do not want
To annoy Turtums at all.
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
To'ard the castle towers.
Push it carefully through the yard;
Don't destroy the flowers!
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
And turn it round in a loop.
You're almost at the kitchen now!
King Skarl will want his soup.
Merrily down the hill.
When you see the Turmaculus,
Try your best to chill!
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
Round the Turdle track.
How fast can those Turdles crawl?
Steer straight and don't look back!
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
Past the Petpet stall.
Careful now; you do not want
To annoy Turtums at all.
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
To'ard the castle towers.
Push it carefully through the yard;
Don't destroy the flowers!
Roll, roll, roll your cheese,
And turn it round in a loop.
You're almost at the kitchen now!
King Skarl will want his soup.
20. A Young Chomby's Migration, published Mar 24, 2022
Eggered was born into a lush warm world.
His early memories are hazy:
A prickly nest in which he curled,
Nibbling omelette. Long, lazy
Naps in the Tyrannian heat.
And then long, panicked runs,
Scrambling to stay on his feet.
The later memories are clearer:
The sweet, plastic smells in the store
In Neopia Central. The mirror
In the NeoLodge. The self-opening door.
And the many strangers, making
Strange sounds. The first night of rest
In a small, sagging bed. Awaking.
It didn't take long before he learned
To call this sunny town his home.
And yet, sometimes, in dreams he yearned
To find those distant plains, to roam
That distant jungle-floor. To sleep
Again in the prickly nest, and hear
The humming of flies in the deep.
His early memories are hazy:
A prickly nest in which he curled,
Nibbling omelette. Long, lazy
Naps in the Tyrannian heat.
And then long, panicked runs,
Scrambling to stay on his feet.
The later memories are clearer:
The sweet, plastic smells in the store
In Neopia Central. The mirror
In the NeoLodge. The self-opening door.
And the many strangers, making
Strange sounds. The first night of rest
In a small, sagging bed. Awaking.
It didn't take long before he learned
To call this sunny town his home.
And yet, sometimes, in dreams he yearned
To find those distant plains, to roam
That distant jungle-floor. To sleep
Again in the prickly nest, and hear
The humming of flies in the deep.
21. The Mutant Hissi's Pantoum, published May 4, 2022
You dream of seeing the world, while I
Am content in this secret garden.
No one needs to see us, I say;
I pray for peace and quiet.
There's discontent in this secret garden.
You dream as much as I do, I know.
Your prayer for peace and quiet
Comes, goes like the morning rays.
You dream as much as I do, I know,
When we see others pass us by:
Coming, going like the morning rays,
Seeing and not-seeing us.
When we see others pass us by,
Content to put us in our secret garden,
We know they are not-seeing us,
And we dream of seeing the world.
Am content in this secret garden.
No one needs to see us, I say;
I pray for peace and quiet.
There's discontent in this secret garden.
You dream as much as I do, I know.
Your prayer for peace and quiet
Comes, goes like the morning rays.
You dream as much as I do, I know,
When we see others pass us by:
Coming, going like the morning rays,
Seeing and not-seeing us.
When we see others pass us by,
Content to put us in our secret garden,
We know they are not-seeing us,
And we dream of seeing the world.
22. Mor Gollog, Goalkeeper, published May 13, 2022
Being a relic Moehog can be tiresome.
You can't sprint or jump. You're slow,
And anything that requires some
Agility, you basically have to let go.
But none of this stopped Mor Gollog
From wanting to play Yooyuball.
Day after day he did his slow jog
Around the court, from wall to wall.
Clank, clank, his heavy hooves went,
While others nipped past without
A second glance. He was unfazed; he bent
His head to the trail, grinding it out.
And patience paid off in the end.
Team Moltara was the first to say:
You're big and strong. We can depend
On you to keep the enemy goals at bay.
A rock he looked like, and a rock
He was to the members of Team Moltara.
He suffered many a push and knock.
Everyone basked in his aura.
Then Team Tyrannia came along
With a kinder, better offer. And so
Mor Gollog, who once felt wrong
In his skin, at last had room to grow.
You can't sprint or jump. You're slow,
And anything that requires some
Agility, you basically have to let go.
But none of this stopped Mor Gollog
From wanting to play Yooyuball.
Day after day he did his slow jog
Around the court, from wall to wall.
Clank, clank, his heavy hooves went,
While others nipped past without
A second glance. He was unfazed; he bent
His head to the trail, grinding it out.
And patience paid off in the end.
Team Moltara was the first to say:
You're big and strong. We can depend
On you to keep the enemy goals at bay.
A rock he looked like, and a rock
He was to the members of Team Moltara.
He suffered many a push and knock.
Everyone basked in his aura.
Then Team Tyrannia came along
With a kinder, better offer. And so
Mor Gollog, who once felt wrong
In his skin, at last had room to grow.
23. The Yurble of the Arcanium, published May 27, 2022
Fiery-maned, a streak in the dark,
Carrying books through a mountain-cave,
The Yurble of the Arcanium
Welcomes you with a friendly wave.
"Feel free to browse our shelves," he says,
And you do - for there are so many books!
With ashen covers and red, gleaming words,
They teach how to make cogs, gears, hooks,
How to navigate the deep, long caves,
What to wear in the hottest places,
How to sculpt with molten rock,
Where to find metals - and their traces.
The Yurble smiles at your interest,
And puts another tome in front of you.
"I think you might like this one," he says.
Before you know it, you're halfway through!
Whether it's the tale of Moltara's founding,
The art of smithing, or how to heal burns,
The Arcanium keeper knows all the books
By memory - like a giant gear that turns.
Carrying books through a mountain-cave,
The Yurble of the Arcanium
Welcomes you with a friendly wave.
"Feel free to browse our shelves," he says,
And you do - for there are so many books!
With ashen covers and red, gleaming words,
They teach how to make cogs, gears, hooks,
How to navigate the deep, long caves,
What to wear in the hottest places,
How to sculpt with molten rock,
Where to find metals - and their traces.
The Yurble smiles at your interest,
And puts another tome in front of you.
"I think you might like this one," he says.
Before you know it, you're halfway through!
Whether it's the tale of Moltara's founding,
The art of smithing, or how to heal burns,
The Arcanium keeper knows all the books
By memory - like a giant gear that turns.
24. Seven Colours of the Rainbow, published Jun 10, 2022
Red is the colour of Loveberries that grow in Meridell.
Orange is the colour of Hasees, bouncing to catch Doughnutfruit.
Yellow is the colour of Happy Neggs cared for by the Negg Faerie.
Green is the colour of Mortogs who just want to be kissed.
Blue is the colour of Flotsams, swimming merrily in the deep.
Indigo is the colour of the Kreludan sky, studded with mysteries.
Purple is the colour of Fyora's dress, regal and smooth to behold.
Rainbow is the colour of Neopets, a safe and accepting place, where every Neopian can take pride in who they are.
Orange is the colour of Hasees, bouncing to catch Doughnutfruit.
Yellow is the colour of Happy Neggs cared for by the Negg Faerie.
Green is the colour of Mortogs who just want to be kissed.
Blue is the colour of Flotsams, swimming merrily in the deep.
Indigo is the colour of the Kreludan sky, studded with mysteries.
Purple is the colour of Fyora's dress, regal and smooth to behold.
Rainbow is the colour of Neopets, a safe and accepting place, where every Neopian can take pride in who they are.
25. Peopatra, Saviour of Petpets, published Jul 26, 2022
Balanced on her soft brown tail,
Sailing swiftly through the sand,
The small Peophin with the neat red mane
Looks for lost Petpets from sea to land.
Whether it's a Wadjet caught in a rock,
Or a Khonsu battered around the eye,
Peopatra knows how to comfort all.
She cleans their wounds and pats them dry.
Sakhmet has been through many trials,
But to Peopatra they are all the same:
The weak and the voiceless suffer the most,
Regardless of where you place the blame.
So she does her best to find and save,
To feed, to heal, to put to sleep
The many little creatures who stumble lost
Among the ruins, crying cheep, cheep.
With every touch, this Peophin believes,
Every act of love and care,
The world becomes a little brighter:
Another Petpet comes to sniff the air.
Sailing swiftly through the sand,
The small Peophin with the neat red mane
Looks for lost Petpets from sea to land.
Whether it's a Wadjet caught in a rock,
Or a Khonsu battered around the eye,
Peopatra knows how to comfort all.
She cleans their wounds and pats them dry.
Sakhmet has been through many trials,
But to Peopatra they are all the same:
The weak and the voiceless suffer the most,
Regardless of where you place the blame.
So she does her best to find and save,
To feed, to heal, to put to sleep
The many little creatures who stumble lost
Among the ruins, crying cheep, cheep.
With every touch, this Peophin believes,
Every act of love and care,
The world becomes a little brighter:
Another Petpet comes to sniff the air.
26. The Bluest Blumaroo, published Aug 8, 2022
The bluest Blumaroo didn't use to be blue.
He used to be yellow and a very merry fellow.
But one day he took a wrong turn at the fountain,
Slipped into the cold-- and lo and behold!
His merry yellow fur changed under his eyes,
Turned mellow and blue: blue through and through!
"Now what do I do?" thought the sad little Roo.
He sat and he thought and he sobbed, "Boo hoo!"
He couldn't bear to look at his face in the brook.
It was moody and grim; it just wasn't him.
He felt out of place everywhere in every way,
And even his friends started staying away.
Then one day he saw another Blue Blumaroo
Bouncing and smiling, announcing with style
That she was going to sing in an evening show.
And sing she did! --with glow and sparkle.
The bluest Blumaroo sat and thought again:
Perhaps being blue was not the end of the world.
He lifted his ears, he thumped his tail,
He raised his glance and gave himself the chance
To do what he dreamed of before he turned blue,
Before that fateful day when he lost his way.
And blue he remained, but in appearance only;
He is no longer strained, and no longer lonely.
He used to be yellow and a very merry fellow.
But one day he took a wrong turn at the fountain,
Slipped into the cold-- and lo and behold!
His merry yellow fur changed under his eyes,
Turned mellow and blue: blue through and through!
"Now what do I do?" thought the sad little Roo.
He sat and he thought and he sobbed, "Boo hoo!"
He couldn't bear to look at his face in the brook.
It was moody and grim; it just wasn't him.
He felt out of place everywhere in every way,
And even his friends started staying away.
Then one day he saw another Blue Blumaroo
Bouncing and smiling, announcing with style
That she was going to sing in an evening show.
And sing she did! --with glow and sparkle.
The bluest Blumaroo sat and thought again:
Perhaps being blue was not the end of the world.
He lifted his ears, he thumped his tail,
He raised his glance and gave himself the chance
To do what he dreamed of before he turned blue,
Before that fateful day when he lost his way.
And blue he remained, but in appearance only;
He is no longer strained, and no longer lonely.
27. The Lightest and Hungriest of Meercas, published Aug 18, 2022
Young Sproggie they call 'im, for he's light
As a new-washed flag,
Bouncing all o'er the deck,
Hard to pin down. But boy, has he got fight!
When you give 'im a plate o' meat,
He can eat, and eat, and eat
Until his li'l tummy swells round.
Like all Meercas he loves Neggs. His favourite
Are the kind that grow
In a nook in Smugglers' Cove.
If ye ever find one, savour it
For it'll be gone in a second
If Young Sprog happens to check in
When he's fresh off the boat at Warf Wharf.
The late afternoons at Food Club are the best.
There's nothin' like
Kickin' back with a tank
O' grog, listenin' to the tavern music, gettin' rest
After a day of swashbucklin'
Adventure out on the sparklin'
Seas. 'Specially when yer a Young Sprog.
As a new-washed flag,
Bouncing all o'er the deck,
Hard to pin down. But boy, has he got fight!
When you give 'im a plate o' meat,
He can eat, and eat, and eat
Until his li'l tummy swells round.
Like all Meercas he loves Neggs. His favourite
Are the kind that grow
In a nook in Smugglers' Cove.
If ye ever find one, savour it
For it'll be gone in a second
If Young Sprog happens to check in
When he's fresh off the boat at Warf Wharf.
The late afternoons at Food Club are the best.
There's nothin' like
Kickin' back with a tank
O' grog, listenin' to the tavern music, gettin' rest
After a day of swashbucklin'
Adventure out on the sparklin'
Seas. 'Specially when yer a Young Sprog.
28. Ambduscias' Fall: The Tale of a Mutant Eyrie, published Oct 20, 2022
When Ambduscias was
a baby, high up
in the Eyrie
nest,
his elder sister pushed
him out, and down
he fell.
The cliff rushed
by. He clutched
at air.
Branches snagged
at and tore
his wings.
When he came
to, he was alone in
a tangle of thorns at the
mountain’s feet. He tried
to stand, but was weak, and cried.
Someone heard him: a faerie grey,
beautiful and faded like an old sun-ray.
She came bearing water, kind words, a soft cloth
which she pressed to his side as she fed him broth.
And in this way Ambduscias healed.
His wings stiffened; his talons steeled.
He will never again be like a normal bird,
but he will sing, and sing to be heard.
a baby, high up
in the Eyrie
nest,
his elder sister pushed
him out, and down
he fell.
The cliff rushed
by. He clutched
at air.
Branches snagged
at and tore
his wings.
When he came
to, he was alone in
a tangle of thorns at the
mountain’s feet. He tried
to stand, but was weak, and cried.
Someone heard him: a faerie grey,
beautiful and faded like an old sun-ray.
She came bearing water, kind words, a soft cloth
which she pressed to his side as she fed him broth.
And in this way Ambduscias healed.
His wings stiffened; his talons steeled.
He will never again be like a normal bird,
but he will sing, and sing to be heard.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Eyrie Day the previous year, but it was rejected. Grateful to see it finally included in the next Eyrie Day gallery.
29. Pterattack, published Nov 8, 2022
In old Tyrannia it used to be tough
For a small Green Pteri to survive.
He had to build his nest high enough
To avoid predators-- and he had to dive
Daily into the throng
Of omelette-seekers. One wrong
Turn, and he could be left behind.
Flocks of Pteradactyls would pass him by
On his daily trip to the plateau.
Some green and some orange, all would fly
At breakneck speeds-- literally. They'd go
So fast, he had to swerve
Left, right, left again, curve
To avoid being struck blind.
Then there were the Red Grarrls too, mad
With hunger, ploughing through the small
Villages, stomping the earth. He had
To make room-- sometimes he'd sprawl
Into a narrow gap, away
From them. He had to stay
His course, keep his goal in mind.
Pterattack is an old memory now.
The small Green Pteri no longer needs
To fight for food. And yet, somehow,
As he rests in the Neolodge-- beads
Of grief fall down his face.
The old danger, the fear, the chase,
All of it is gone. He has been left behind.
For a small Green Pteri to survive.
He had to build his nest high enough
To avoid predators-- and he had to dive
Daily into the throng
Of omelette-seekers. One wrong
Turn, and he could be left behind.
Flocks of Pteradactyls would pass him by
On his daily trip to the plateau.
Some green and some orange, all would fly
At breakneck speeds-- literally. They'd go
So fast, he had to swerve
Left, right, left again, curve
To avoid being struck blind.
Then there were the Red Grarrls too, mad
With hunger, ploughing through the small
Villages, stomping the earth. He had
To make room-- sometimes he'd sprawl
Into a narrow gap, away
From them. He had to stay
His course, keep his goal in mind.
Pterattack is an old memory now.
The small Green Pteri no longer needs
To fight for food. And yet, somehow,
As he rests in the Neolodge-- beads
Of grief fall down his face.
The old danger, the fear, the chase,
All of it is gone. He has been left behind.
30. Inside a Holiday Snowglobe, published Jan 3, 2023
A tip
of gold;
then glass, round and
round. The trees stand tall
amid the falling flakes. One shake,
and everything glows like the layer
of frosting on a mint chocolate cake.
A tiny house sparkles in the snow.
A Bruce figurine skates nearby.
And the snow falls, down and
down, soundlessly,
against the still glass.
of gold;
then glass, round and
round. The trees stand tall
amid the falling flakes. One shake,
and everything glows like the layer
of frosting on a mint chocolate cake.
A tiny house sparkles in the snow.
A Bruce figurine skates nearby.
And the snow falls, down and
down, soundlessly,
against the still glass.
31. Princess Terrana's Morning Climb, published Jan 6, 2023
Not for me,
The courtly rituals,
The everyday curtseys and
Greetings and prim tea-samplings.
The life of the palace is not for me.
My limbs are made to climb.
In the morning when the world's asleep,
Before my maids come to dress me,
I have a narrow window of time
To climb,
To feel the rock,
To throw my grappling hook,
To dig into the cliff-surface and
Breathe, breathe against the fragrant dirt.
And in that window of time before
The world of the palace calls me,
Before I must dress in silks and pins
And perform my diplomatic duties,
I climb.
I pull my rope,
I throw it high, I hear it
Whistle and clank. I tug it tight. And
I climb, up and up, in the morning mist,
Reaching for grass, light, air.
At heart, I am a Gnorbu free.
The courtly rituals,
The everyday curtseys and
Greetings and prim tea-samplings.
The life of the palace is not for me.
My limbs are made to climb.
In the morning when the world's asleep,
Before my maids come to dress me,
I have a narrow window of time
To climb,
To feel the rock,
To throw my grappling hook,
To dig into the cliff-surface and
Breathe, breathe against the fragrant dirt.
And in that window of time before
The world of the palace calls me,
Before I must dress in silks and pins
And perform my diplomatic duties,
I climb.
I pull my rope,
I throw it high, I hear it
Whistle and clank. I tug it tight. And
I climb, up and up, in the morning mist,
Reaching for grass, light, air.
At heart, I am a Gnorbu free.
32. Wizards of the Order, Arise! published Jan 19, 2023
For six moons, we have suffered defeat.
We have lost to the Thieves, who offered discounts to restockers.
We have lost to the Seekers, who padded the banks of the wealthy.
We have struggled to save against ever-increasing prices, while the rich only get richer.
We, the poor and the downtrodden, have had enough.
This day, we fight.
Fight for a chance at a fountain faerie quest to finally give your pet what she needs.
Fight for a chance at a rare caverns find to rise up from poverty.
For six moons we have suffered defeat, but not this day.
This day is our day.
Fight for honour, for love, for the Order.
FIIIIGHT!!!!
We have lost to the Thieves, who offered discounts to restockers.
We have lost to the Seekers, who padded the banks of the wealthy.
We have struggled to save against ever-increasing prices, while the rich only get richer.
We, the poor and the downtrodden, have had enough.
This day, we fight.
Fight for a chance at a fountain faerie quest to finally give your pet what she needs.
Fight for a chance at a rare caverns find to rise up from poverty.
For six moons we have suffered defeat, but not this day.
This day is our day.
Fight for honour, for love, for the Order.
FIIIIGHT!!!!
Note: I originally wrote this poem as a motivational speech, which I posted on the Neoboards and in Discord. xD A lot of people reacted to the Discord post and someone told me I should submit it to the poetry gallery, so I did. The Order unfortunately lost that round, but I was pleasantly surprised to see this poem published.
33. The Vandagyre Scholar by the Sea, published Feb 10, 2023
His large amber eyes are always fixed
On a page, or ship, or distant thought.
He likes his coffee exactly mixed,
And his plate arranged like a flowerpot.
His pudgy wings don't see much use,
For he moves about ten metres in a day.
He's often lost in some abstruse
World, lost for hours till he finds his way.
But when he does, his insights are
So sharp that he must write them down
Right away. The notes and papers swirl on far
Into the night, below his quick frown.
And after submitting his latest work,
He nods off to sleep in his heavy chair;
Then wakes to stroll through the cold, salt murk
Till the next idea comes like a lighthouse flare.
On a page, or ship, or distant thought.
He likes his coffee exactly mixed,
And his plate arranged like a flowerpot.
His pudgy wings don't see much use,
For he moves about ten metres in a day.
He's often lost in some abstruse
World, lost for hours till he finds his way.
But when he does, his insights are
So sharp that he must write them down
Right away. The notes and papers swirl on far
Into the night, below his quick frown.
And after submitting his latest work,
He nods off to sleep in his heavy chair;
Then wakes to stroll through the cold, salt murk
Till the next idea comes like a lighthouse flare.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Vandagyre Day but it was rejected, so I edited it to make it fit the next theme, which was "By the Sea."
34. Hundreds of Lights, published Feb 21, 2023
A flicker of gold in the night--
Swinging softly on its iron hinge,
"Lampwyck's Lights Fantastic."
Inside, endless geometries of light,
Red, green, gold, white,
Some round, some angled,
All warm and inviting.
In the early days, Lampwyck the Buzz
Lit the way for explorers.
When everyone was huddled and lost
In a night so dark that your very body
Was like a dream, or a story,
Something you could hear but not see--
Lampwyck showed a way forward.
Every flicker was like a breath,
As each explorer held up their flame.
Hundreds, hundreds of shimmering globes,
Strung together above the pits of death,
Clinging on, moving up-- and down again
On the treacherous paths.
Nobody dared give up hope.
After Moltara opened to the world,
Lampwyck's creations became ordinary,
Something a tourist's child might dangle
On their arm in a bustling alley.
But the Moltarans remember the old,
Old days when light was scarce,
And the merest candle-flicker was glory.
Swinging softly on its iron hinge,
"Lampwyck's Lights Fantastic."
Inside, endless geometries of light,
Red, green, gold, white,
Some round, some angled,
All warm and inviting.
In the early days, Lampwyck the Buzz
Lit the way for explorers.
When everyone was huddled and lost
In a night so dark that your very body
Was like a dream, or a story,
Something you could hear but not see--
Lampwyck showed a way forward.
Every flicker was like a breath,
As each explorer held up their flame.
Hundreds, hundreds of shimmering globes,
Strung together above the pits of death,
Clinging on, moving up-- and down again
On the treacherous paths.
Nobody dared give up hope.
After Moltara opened to the world,
Lampwyck's creations became ordinary,
Something a tourist's child might dangle
On their arm in a bustling alley.
But the Moltarans remember the old,
Old days when light was scarce,
And the merest candle-flicker was glory.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Buzz Day, but it was rejected. I resubmitted it and was very grateful to see it get into the anniversary gallery.
35. How to Fold an Origami Chomby, published Mar 22, 2023
Take a square piece of paper
And fold it diagonally in half,
Making two triangles,
Two sides of a laugh.
Deepen the crease, then unfold.
Now fold in both edges
Till they meet the centre crease:
Two adjacent triangular wedges.
Create a new crease by folding up
The lower-left side like a clover.
After it meets the two triangles,
Unfold and flip the paper over.
Now fold the top down so it meets
The crossing of the two creases.
Then flip again and fold out the corners
To make a diamond and two quad pieces.
Flip again and raise the top flap,
Making a narrow triangle at the top.
Fold the bottom up so its tip
Is just below the upper triangle, then stop.
Turn the paper over again and fold
The inner flaps outward, as far
As they go while staying flat,
Like shards of a many-pointed star.
Swing down the back flap, and start
To pleat the top of the shape.
Then flip and pleat the bottom.
Fold lengthwise to form the Chomby's nape.
Fold down the top to create his head.
And now let him stand:
A Chomby tall and scaly,
Reigning over a paper land.
And fold it diagonally in half,
Making two triangles,
Two sides of a laugh.
Deepen the crease, then unfold.
Now fold in both edges
Till they meet the centre crease:
Two adjacent triangular wedges.
Create a new crease by folding up
The lower-left side like a clover.
After it meets the two triangles,
Unfold and flip the paper over.
Now fold the top down so it meets
The crossing of the two creases.
Then flip again and fold out the corners
To make a diamond and two quad pieces.
Flip again and raise the top flap,
Making a narrow triangle at the top.
Fold the bottom up so its tip
Is just below the upper triangle, then stop.
Turn the paper over again and fold
The inner flaps outward, as far
As they go while staying flat,
Like shards of a many-pointed star.
Swing down the back flap, and start
To pleat the top of the shape.
Then flip and pleat the bottom.
Fold lengthwise to form the Chomby's nape.
Fold down the top to create his head.
And now let him stand:
A Chomby tall and scaly,
Reigning over a paper land.
36. The Shoyru from the Dump, published Apr 3, 2023
There are lots of materials
To be found in a dump.
Cog the Shoyru can name them all:
Brick to layer with concrete,
Wood to burn for heat,
Aluminium cans to tame and beat
And shape into armour-wings tall.
There is lots of potential
To be roused from a dump.
Cog the Shoyru sees all:
How metals can melt and blend,
How broken buttons can mend,
How even old wires can be made to send
And receive messages in a call.
Others may think it trivial,
The waste matter in a dump,
But Cog the Shoyru knows more.
Every stinking shred and scrap,
Every cover, every wrap
Matters. In grime she makes the map
Of her machinery and clothing store.
To be found in a dump.
Cog the Shoyru can name them all:
Brick to layer with concrete,
Wood to burn for heat,
Aluminium cans to tame and beat
And shape into armour-wings tall.
There is lots of potential
To be roused from a dump.
Cog the Shoyru sees all:
How metals can melt and blend,
How broken buttons can mend,
How even old wires can be made to send
And receive messages in a call.
Others may think it trivial,
The waste matter in a dump,
But Cog the Shoyru knows more.
Every stinking shred and scrap,
Every cover, every wrap
Matters. In grime she makes the map
Of her machinery and clothing store.
37. Banana for a Mynci, published Apr 4, 2023
Banana, oh na-na (ay!)
Buy me a juicy gold banana oh na-na (ay!)
Take me to Mystery Island nan-nan-nan nan-nan
Oh! and don't forget my gold banana,
My juicy gold banana,
Banana, nan-nan
It doesn't have to be like a Codestone Bri
(Weighed in Neopoints)
It doesn't have to be blessed by Potgatkerchi
(Don't tell 'em I said that)
I'll know it forever in a minute (ay!)
When I take it from the tree
And when I take a bite from it
It'll get me feelin' like...
Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
I knew it when I had it, I loved it when I left it
Got me feelin' like, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
And then I had to leave my island nan-nan
Oh-na-na-na-na-na
Banana, oh na-na (ay!)
Buy me a juicy gold banana oh na-na (ay!)
Next time you go to Mystery Island nan-nan-nan,
Oh! please don't forget my gold banana,
My juicy gold banana,
Banana, nan-nan
Buy me a juicy gold banana oh na-na (ay!)
Take me to Mystery Island nan-nan-nan nan-nan
Oh! and don't forget my gold banana,
My juicy gold banana,
Banana, nan-nan
It doesn't have to be like a Codestone Bri
(Weighed in Neopoints)
It doesn't have to be blessed by Potgatkerchi
(Don't tell 'em I said that)
I'll know it forever in a minute (ay!)
When I take it from the tree
And when I take a bite from it
It'll get me feelin' like...
Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
I knew it when I had it, I loved it when I left it
Got me feelin' like, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
And then I had to leave my island nan-nan
Oh-na-na-na-na-na
Banana, oh na-na (ay!)
Buy me a juicy gold banana oh na-na (ay!)
Next time you go to Mystery Island nan-nan-nan,
Oh! please don't forget my gold banana,
My juicy gold banana,
Banana, nan-nan
Note: This poem is a parody of "Havana" by Camila Cabello.
38. Kalandra, the Poker Player, published Jun 19, 2023
When you first see her,
All you see is glitter.
The horns on her head sparkle bright;
A jewelled trinket tinkles as she moves.
Huge gold hoops dangle from her ears,
And bracelets clink on her slender hooves.
But then again, on second look,
She seems to you a closed book.
Purple silk gently shrouds her face,
And heavy eyeshadow hides her glance.
She puts down her cards and considers you,
Smilingly measuring every chance.
Check, check, check, bet.
This gentle Kau's gaze is like a threat.
What are those cards she's betting on?
Should you match her bet, or fold?
She casts down her eyes, as if bored,
And all you can see is the silent gold.
All you see is glitter.
The horns on her head sparkle bright;
A jewelled trinket tinkles as she moves.
Huge gold hoops dangle from her ears,
And bracelets clink on her slender hooves.
But then again, on second look,
She seems to you a closed book.
Purple silk gently shrouds her face,
And heavy eyeshadow hides her glance.
She puts down her cards and considers you,
Smilingly measuring every chance.
Check, check, check, bet.
This gentle Kau's gaze is like a threat.
What are those cards she's betting on?
Should you match her bet, or fold?
She casts down her eyes, as if bored,
And all you can see is the silent gold.
39. Dance the Acara Way, published Jun 28, 2023
Wave your paws, turn your head,
Let your horns sway, sway to the beat.
Lift your nose, close your eyes,
Dive in the pond, flatten your feet.
Dance, dance the Acara way,
Rise and splash in the glittering heat.
Take a breath, dive again,
Go down and play, play on repeat.
Touch the shore, part the waves,
Make your strokes bold, swim to compete.
Dance, dance the Acara way,
Rise and splash in the glittering heat.
When it's time, take a break,
Come up and say, say you will eat.
Take a plate, smile and laugh,
Walk on the beach, reach for the meat.
Dance, dance the Acara way,
Rise and splash in the glittering heat.
Let your horns sway, sway to the beat.
Lift your nose, close your eyes,
Dive in the pond, flatten your feet.
Dance, dance the Acara way,
Rise and splash in the glittering heat.
Take a breath, dive again,
Go down and play, play on repeat.
Touch the shore, part the waves,
Make your strokes bold, swim to compete.
Dance, dance the Acara way,
Rise and splash in the glittering heat.
When it's time, take a break,
Come up and say, say you will eat.
Take a plate, smile and laugh,
Walk on the beach, reach for the meat.
Dance, dance the Acara way,
Rise and splash in the glittering heat.
40. The Waitress at Kelp, published Jul 20, 2023
In Maraqua where the corals sway
And JubJubs in bubbles merrily play,
A Goldy dances before a shell shop,
Behind which glimmers the next tourist stop.
Inside this pearly place called Kelp,
The Uni waitress sails forth to help.
"What may I get for you today?" she asks,
Smiling and bobbing as she does her tasks.
Neatly adorned in black and white,
Her horn polished till it sparkles bright,
Her lovely mane smoothed back from her face,
The Uni moves with speed and grace.
She knows the menu inside and out,
And can offer suggestions when you're in doubt.
But when the restaurant closes at nine,
And she's done cleaning the last plate fine...
Her gaze shifts up to the dates on the wall,
And she fills in another box with a scrawl.
Another day of work is over and done.
Another small sum of Neopoints won.
One day, away from where the corals sway,
And JubJubs in bubbles merrily play,
This seemingly smiling young Uni will go,
And another will come to run the show.
And JubJubs in bubbles merrily play,
A Goldy dances before a shell shop,
Behind which glimmers the next tourist stop.
Inside this pearly place called Kelp,
The Uni waitress sails forth to help.
"What may I get for you today?" she asks,
Smiling and bobbing as she does her tasks.
Neatly adorned in black and white,
Her horn polished till it sparkles bright,
Her lovely mane smoothed back from her face,
The Uni moves with speed and grace.
She knows the menu inside and out,
And can offer suggestions when you're in doubt.
But when the restaurant closes at nine,
And she's done cleaning the last plate fine...
Her gaze shifts up to the dates on the wall,
And she fills in another box with a scrawl.
Another day of work is over and done.
Another small sum of Neopoints won.
One day, away from where the corals sway,
And JubJubs in bubbles merrily play,
This seemingly smiling young Uni will go,
And another will come to run the show.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Uni Day, but it was rejected. I resubmitted for the next random gallery and it was rejected again. Before the third try, I added the final stanza to more fully express the tone shift in the poem; I don't know if that made a difference to the judge or not, but it was finally accepted.
41. A Tale of Two Skeiths, published Aug 11, 2023
Skarl was always the stronger one.
In Castle Battles, he built big towers.
His brother stared at the battlefield,
Calling forth all of his mental powers.
The young Prince Hagan's eyes narrowed.
His little green fists balled up,
And he placed a careful shot - BOOM!
But Prince Skarl's fort remained walled up.
The Blue Skeith added more defences.
He curled his scaly tail in merriment.
And Prince Hagan stared once more -
Perhaps, he'd try an experiment.
"I'll give you all my cookies," he said,
"If you move that wall just a tiny bit."
Prince Skarl considered the proposition.
"Sure!" he bellowed. "I don't mind it."
So Skarl got all the cookies that night,
And in the toyroom his brother reigned supreme.
Hence Hagan became King of Brightvale,
And Skarl? The Gourmand-King.
In Castle Battles, he built big towers.
His brother stared at the battlefield,
Calling forth all of his mental powers.
The young Prince Hagan's eyes narrowed.
His little green fists balled up,
And he placed a careful shot - BOOM!
But Prince Skarl's fort remained walled up.
The Blue Skeith added more defences.
He curled his scaly tail in merriment.
And Prince Hagan stared once more -
Perhaps, he'd try an experiment.
"I'll give you all my cookies," he said,
"If you move that wall just a tiny bit."
Prince Skarl considered the proposition.
"Sure!" he bellowed. "I don't mind it."
So Skarl got all the cookies that night,
And in the toyroom his brother reigned supreme.
Hence Hagan became King of Brightvale,
And Skarl? The Gourmand-King.
42. Put Down Your Feet, published Aug 16, 2023
The young Blumaroo liked to bounce around,
Hoisting her whole body above her strong tail.
But - "Put down your feet," she was told one day.
"Make less noise, and follow the trail."
She didn't like to wear shoes at first.
She preferred to wave her feet in the air,
To feel the breeze, but - "Put down your feet!"
"Walk like a lady, and sit on a chair."
She learned to walk in a manner soft,
To keep her tail behind her, on the ground.
No more thumping - "Put down your feet!"
Only small steps, with gentle sound.
But when no one is watching, and she's alone
On the beach, she takes off her shoes
To raise her feet. And just for a moment,
She feels - there is nothing to lose -
The little heart-pads beneath her feet
Breathe in the sea-breeze and are glad.
Her tail goes thump as she waves them around,
Feeling free - though she's meant to feel bad.
And so though the Blumaroo learned to wear shoes,
She stayed young and boisterous in her heart.
When she's not putting down her feet,
She keeps them up, wiggling and apart.
Hoisting her whole body above her strong tail.
But - "Put down your feet," she was told one day.
"Make less noise, and follow the trail."
She didn't like to wear shoes at first.
She preferred to wave her feet in the air,
To feel the breeze, but - "Put down your feet!"
"Walk like a lady, and sit on a chair."
She learned to walk in a manner soft,
To keep her tail behind her, on the ground.
No more thumping - "Put down your feet!"
Only small steps, with gentle sound.
But when no one is watching, and she's alone
On the beach, she takes off her shoes
To raise her feet. And just for a moment,
She feels - there is nothing to lose -
The little heart-pads beneath her feet
Breathe in the sea-breeze and are glad.
Her tail goes thump as she waves them around,
Feeling free - though she's meant to feel bad.
And so though the Blumaroo learned to wear shoes,
She stayed young and boisterous in her heart.
When she's not putting down her feet,
She keeps them up, wiggling and apart.
Note: This poem is inspired by the old design of Blumaroos pre-customisation. I originally wrote it for Blumaroo Day, but it was rejected. Grateful to see it included in the next random gallery!
43. Trapped in the Mountainside Inn (a NeoQuest II poem), published Sep 7, 2023
Snowflakes slowly swirl on past.
Everyone here is here to stay.
How long will this snowstorm last?
No one knows; no one can say.
The Snowager used to roar each morn
And keep the mountain passes clear.
But now he's gone, the villagers warn,
And no one knows if he'll reappear.
The beasts that once were kept at bay
Now roam across the mountainside.
And no one dares enter the fray;
Everyone's here, huddled inside.
The cook, in boredom, has begun to make
Strange potions that he'll sell for a price.
Upstairs, a Kacheek stirs awake,
And then in despair, turns over twice.
Some tourists by the fireplace
Lament the fun they could have had.
And then you spot a familiar face!
You know there's hope, and your heart is glad.
Everyone here is here to stay.
How long will this snowstorm last?
No one knows; no one can say.
The Snowager used to roar each morn
And keep the mountain passes clear.
But now he's gone, the villagers warn,
And no one knows if he'll reappear.
The beasts that once were kept at bay
Now roam across the mountainside.
And no one dares enter the fray;
Everyone's here, huddled inside.
The cook, in boredom, has begun to make
Strange potions that he'll sell for a price.
Upstairs, a Kacheek stirs awake,
And then in despair, turns over twice.
Some tourists by the fireplace
Lament the fun they could have had.
And then you spot a familiar face!
You know there's hope, and your heart is glad.
44. Techo Mountain, published Sep 13, 2023
To foreigners, it looks like
The giant face of a Techo.
The locals call it Piku Paku.
It stands tall, imposing, impassive,
Sleeping.
Legend has it
That the Fire Petpet at its core
Will wake one day, and bring
Calamitous ash from shore to shore.
But now it rests, impassive,
As it has for two thousand years.
The Techo's arms curve toward
The Island Arena. Narrow stairs
Lead past the Training School
And disappear...
Legend has it
There is another school, hidden
So deep you cannot hear it.
Behind the Techo's head curls
A quiet plume of smoke.
When you tread the stairs,
You cannot help but walk slowly,
Softly.
Legend has it
That this warm, buzzing silence
Will not hum forever. Once woke,
The Mountain's power will be beyond words.
The giant face of a Techo.
The locals call it Piku Paku.
It stands tall, imposing, impassive,
Sleeping.
Legend has it
That the Fire Petpet at its core
Will wake one day, and bring
Calamitous ash from shore to shore.
But now it rests, impassive,
As it has for two thousand years.
The Techo's arms curve toward
The Island Arena. Narrow stairs
Lead past the Training School
And disappear...
Legend has it
There is another school, hidden
So deep you cannot hear it.
Behind the Techo's head curls
A quiet plume of smoke.
When you tread the stairs,
You cannot help but walk slowly,
Softly.
Legend has it
That this warm, buzzing silence
Will not hum forever. Once woke,
The Mountain's power will be beyond words.
45. The Pteris' Nest, published Nov 8, 2023
Deep in the heart of Tyrannia,
Unseen on any map,
There is a quiet mountain where
Trees curve around a gap.
When you sneak inside, you feel
A sudden warmth and hush.
The cave is filled with jagged rocks;
The moss is soft and lush.
You hear a steady dripping sound
And turn to see a pool,
Greenly bubbling on the cavern floor,
Nurturing and cool.
The eggs are nowhere to be seen,
But when you look above the trees,
There's the merest hint of a flicker--
And distant tremors shake your knees.
A slow unease descends on you;
You feel you've stayed too long.
On the way out, you put the leaves
Back where they belong.
And as you turn to watch the sky
You cannot help but see
Two shadows fly in arcs above,
Graceful, strong and free.
Unseen on any map,
There is a quiet mountain where
Trees curve around a gap.
When you sneak inside, you feel
A sudden warmth and hush.
The cave is filled with jagged rocks;
The moss is soft and lush.
You hear a steady dripping sound
And turn to see a pool,
Greenly bubbling on the cavern floor,
Nurturing and cool.
The eggs are nowhere to be seen,
But when you look above the trees,
There's the merest hint of a flicker--
And distant tremors shake your knees.
A slow unease descends on you;
You feel you've stayed too long.
On the way out, you put the leaves
Back where they belong.
And as you turn to watch the sky
You cannot help but see
Two shadows fly in arcs above,
Graceful, strong and free.
Note: I originally wrote this poem inspired by the Draik Nest in Meridell for Meridell Day. It was rejected, so I resubmitted it for Draik Day, and it was again rejected. Finally, I edited it to make it about Pteris' nests and resubmitted it for Pteri Day, and it got in on the third try.
46. The Littlest Usul, published Nov 27, 2023
The other Usuls said she would never grow.
When she stood up straight, the tip of her tail
Waving just above her up-tilted head
Barely reached the height of a pail.
"She'll be small forever," everyone said.
But what did they know?
She climbed short trees and ate the fruit
That other Usuls thought too sour for their taste.
She worked twice as hard on jumping high
And skied with a speed that laid theirs to waste.
When the shopkeeper said, "I've got none in your size,"
She made her own snowsuit.
And so the littlest Usul became known
As the nimble athlete whose temper was quick.
And even after she did grow tall,
After she could use a normal hockey stick,
She never forgot what it was like to be small.
She'd always be kind to those who were alone.
When she stood up straight, the tip of her tail
Waving just above her up-tilted head
Barely reached the height of a pail.
"She'll be small forever," everyone said.
But what did they know?
She climbed short trees and ate the fruit
That other Usuls thought too sour for their taste.
She worked twice as hard on jumping high
And skied with a speed that laid theirs to waste.
When the shopkeeper said, "I've got none in your size,"
She made her own snowsuit.
And so the littlest Usul became known
As the nimble athlete whose temper was quick.
And even after she did grow tall,
After she could use a normal hockey stick,
She never forgot what it was like to be small.
She'd always be kind to those who were alone.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Usul Day last year. It was rejected, so I saved it to resubmit this year, and it got in this time!
47. The Bruce Skater, published December 2023
The moment has come. The Bruce halts
Nervously on the edge of the rink.
He has tied his skates tight,
And smoothed his bow.
Now the moment is here, and he's ready
To impress the judges three.
There they sit, a bespectacled Kacheek,
A fur-collared Wocky, and a Kyrii.
They look at him. The music plays,
And the Bruce skater silently prays
As he slides across the ice,
Turning neatly - twirling - thrice.
He's landed his first jump! Breathing
More easily now, he feels his body easing
Into the next sequence. Round he goes,
Catching each note. He slows
At the edge of the rink, arms held out
For balance, following his route.
And he becomes the music he is hearing.
The notes melt into each stroke. Nearing
The climax of the piece, he leaps
In perfect time. One judge weeps.
The Bruce is afraid to look at the end.
But he does, and sees: ten, ten, ten.
Nervously on the edge of the rink.
He has tied his skates tight,
And smoothed his bow.
Now the moment is here, and he's ready
To impress the judges three.
There they sit, a bespectacled Kacheek,
A fur-collared Wocky, and a Kyrii.
They look at him. The music plays,
And the Bruce skater silently prays
As he slides across the ice,
Turning neatly - twirling - thrice.
He's landed his first jump! Breathing
More easily now, he feels his body easing
Into the next sequence. Round he goes,
Catching each note. He slows
At the edge of the rink, arms held out
For balance, following his route.
And he becomes the music he is hearing.
The notes melt into each stroke. Nearing
The climax of the piece, he leaps
In perfect time. One judge weeps.
The Bruce is afraid to look at the end.
But he does, and sees: ten, ten, ten.
Note: I originally wrote this poem for Bruce Day, but it was rejected. A few weeks later, it got into the Day of Giving gallery.
48. Kentari, the Weapons Handler, published Apr 2, 2024
Neatly attired in his black helmet,
Red martial robes and silent shoes,
Kentari the Shoyru flits around his shop,
Giving advice on which weapon to choose.
The strength of a warrior does not solely depend
On the weapon he brings to the battlefield;
Yet a warrior is not strongest, he says,
Without a suitable weapon to wield.
For taller warriors, Kentari suggests
The Razumi Mace or Kazeriu Bow.
Littler warriors might find it easier
To hold a Hook Sword or throw a Shuko.
When he's not talking with customers
Or cleaning his wares; not checking his stock
Or keeping his books, Kentari reads
And writes poetry beneath an ornate clock.
He was a warrior once in the glory days,
And he returns there often in his dreams:
The feeling of riding the Cyodrake's Gaze,
Above the clouds, the arrows and streams.
One day, this wise old Shoyru knows,
The warriors could be called into action again.
In the meantime, he polishes his blades,
And teaches the young ones how to train.
Red martial robes and silent shoes,
Kentari the Shoyru flits around his shop,
Giving advice on which weapon to choose.
The strength of a warrior does not solely depend
On the weapon he brings to the battlefield;
Yet a warrior is not strongest, he says,
Without a suitable weapon to wield.
For taller warriors, Kentari suggests
The Razumi Mace or Kazeriu Bow.
Littler warriors might find it easier
To hold a Hook Sword or throw a Shuko.
When he's not talking with customers
Or cleaning his wares; not checking his stock
Or keeping his books, Kentari reads
And writes poetry beneath an ornate clock.
He was a warrior once in the glory days,
And he returns there often in his dreams:
The feeling of riding the Cyodrake's Gaze,
Above the clouds, the arrows and streams.
One day, this wise old Shoyru knows,
The warriors could be called into action again.
In the meantime, he polishes his blades,
And teaches the young ones how to train.