Mario's collection of poetry

Since I have a nice collection of poetry, I decided to make this thread. Enjoy :mrgreen:

Deluded

Culinaromancer, Oh Culinaromancer,

Why must your name be so long?

What do you want people to think..?

That you are so stong?

An evil chef? What next!

Perhaps a cooking project?

Your taunts are pointless, your spells are senceless

You seem to be quite defenseless.

Go ahead, freeze the guests,

It won't drive your success.

Oh Culinaromancer, why won't you relise your plans do not progress?

Perhaps a mighty test,

From an adventurer as I? I'm warning you I will suppress!

Feed your monsters to my blade,

See that no one comes to my aid.

You fear that I have prayed?

No matter, I will evade.

Keep all my items as I kneel,

Harnest the pain that I may feel.

I will be back though, to finish the job,

With defeat you will throb.

Flambeed and Karamel?

Sounds like a tasty treat!

Oh dear saradomin, I don't want any sweets!

What are these 'monsters' that you have unleashed?

Your head grows the size of your stupidity after the final blow,

Why did you think you could suffocate me with dough?

Oh please you were never a pro,

I take pleasure in your woe.

The guests are saved,

The variety of foods they craved.

They did not misbehave,

Their bodies in the chairs enslaved.

Now I equip my tenderiser,

Perhaps it will be my cooking advisor.

Maybe even make me wiser,

With it's size, a sun visor?

In a way I must thank you,

This event you got me through.

I imagine you in cooking heaven,

Stirring up an evil stew.

An update comes around

Oh, hunting is a joyous skill,

Variety of things to kill.

Jagex we love you so,

Watching our levels grow.

Kebbits we start with and follow their tracks,

To a bush in which we smack.

We change our furs into camo clothes,

So to the animals we aren't exposed.

Birds fall into our snaring plans,

Soon their reward will be in our hands.

Feathers useless, but still pretty cool,

Except the stripy, a fishing tool.

Fluttering little buttlerflies,

catch them after several tries.

When used they raise player's stats,

Owning up c wars, and thats that.

Boxing chinnies oh the fun,

We certainly don't need a gun.

Grenades they are after caught,

watch your hand they're very hot.

If salamanders are your choice,

Then you should happily rejoice.

As these lizards burst out flame,

You might have to watch your aim.

Birds now do your dirty work,

Clawing kebbits, going beserk.

Shiny capes you ought to find,

They'll confuse a creature's mind.

Teleporting imps they are annoying,

but when caught they are enjoying

Bank your items, oh yes indeed,

Sometimes they won't preform this deed.

Sneaky gloves, harpoons, new bait,

Jagex we do not hate!

Thanks again for this cool update,

You are the best and very great!

A coon in a log

I chopped the tree and watched it fall,

I wasn't new at this after all.

I picked up the yews,

and rose to my feet.

The tree seemed to admit defeat.

I smiled at the poor thing,

'What's this?' I asked myself...'a ring!'

It was wrapped around in a small nest,

I watched the birds fly up into the northwest.

Well, it was my job, I thought to myself,

Hmmm...what a strange log, Ill put it on my shelf.

It was blue and gold, dressed in red,

A shiny tint, as if it had wed.

It seemed to look up at me,

With eyes so curious filled with glee.

'Help me!' it cried,

Or is it just my imagination expanding wide?

Legs it grew covered in fur,

Springing out with a small pur.

A few moments of pondering,

My mind came a wandering.

For the log was not a log indeed,

As I watched it drop from my hands and recede.

My axe sliced another tree,

A real log I suppose not garanteed.

Wilderness mining

The dawn of the day, the miner's axe swings,

It flows through the air and produces a faint ring.

Strong is the miner, with brutal arms,

The lovely ladies he charms.

A crack echos over the burden lands,

With the strong axe he holds in his hands.

With a raise of the weapon he can see his prize,

The rune ore gleams in his eyes.

He brushes off the soil,

Only to be spoiled,

by the lucious hue of cyan.

Oh the things he has planned.

Alas, he is not alone,

For the pker has shown.

Prepared for action he is,

For it is time to take the survival quiz.

A clash of axe and whip,

The two weapons chip,

The two tighty grip,

And to Lumbridge one must take a trip.

Equiped with his weapon he holds his head,

He knew that his bravery had fled.

Now in Lumbridge he holds his ores,

Hoping to find a buying store.

The new one

The curious one pokes around,

Picking stuff right off the ground.

He dusts them off and says ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¹ÃâOh boyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢,

The new one skips down the road with joy.

Bronze helm and pink skirt,

All covered in dirt.

A treasure to him,

For he is not grim.

Attacking the goblin, filled with fear

The monster is harder than it appears.

The scent of death comes near,

But in Lumbridge he does not appear.

With cuts and blood,

He limps across the field of spud.

Picking them up, one by one,

Hoping never to see what the goblin has done.

Soon coming across a bank,

He notices trees occupied by higher ranks.

With axe at hand he chops at the willow,

Finding the heavy logs weigh a kilo.

A water strike comes his way,

The dark wizard has snatched his prey.

Saradomin chose to forgive,

and let the poor newb live.

Back to where he started, and nothing to do,

So there he walked north feeling all blue.

Soon to come across a farm,

where the chickens would show no harm.

Pleasant he felt murdering the chickens,

Training his combat so his sword may quicken.

Feathers he gathered, a mass of white

Two hundred more and he could afford a bronze kite.

Alas, the slaying became boring,

Replaced by the sense of exploring.

He traveled more north,

To bring the town of Varrock forth.

Traders he saw,

He started in awe.

Soon his attention lay on the general store,

Where the bronze lay galore.

Misfortune was his name,

As the bronze was not to claim.

He had no gp,

His gaze on the platebody did flea.

He wandered down the road,

with not a large load.

A shiny gold piece glittered in the dirt,

He dived for it, and pocketed it in his shirt.

A Thief's Palace

RogueÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s Den what do you hold?

What secrets are untold?

Your spider webs may be old,

But I sense a shiny pot of gold

The contortion bars, the spinning blade,

Why does it seem as if you are giving me a grade?

Trap floors, sliding grills,

A thief would enjoy these thrills.

Puzzling mazes, flash powder

Completing these only makes me feel prouder.

But what secrets are at the end?

You try ever so hard to contend.

Throw your traps and pendulums at me,

I will not flee.

The guards will not stop me, oh not a chance!

A bang of powder will blind their glance.

I feel you are torturing me now, without a stop,

Enslaving me in this endless field of crops.

Laughing in your evil voice,

Laughing hard as if I have no choice.

I will not fail I will not fall back,

In the face you can smack.

But I will not fail,

I will not wail.

I see the end now, bright as day,

I am a hunter stalking its prey.

I crack open the safe with tremendous skill,

Only to find a trap underneath, ready to kill.

SO MANY RHYMES! Lol.

Nice poems. I liked them :D Although more creative titles would be nice ;)

SO MANY RHYMES! Lol.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nice poems. I liked them :D Although more creative titles would be nice ;)

Hmmm yes I need to work on that... but not now I want to get my hunting to 62. :)

EDIT: Edited titles and got 62 hunting :)

Darn you page two!

Darn you page two!

im not THAT fond of your poetry but i LOVE your sig! i go crazy when someone calls my meat mallet a gadder.