A Random Contest Woe
by Kanpai

If there's one thing I could confess:
I'm certainly far from the best
At Neopets' Random Contest.

Bi-weekly ideas that boggle my mind;
How on earth does TNT find
Creative contests of any kind?

On Friday I check the daily news
For a new chance at some clues,
Explaining the objects that I'll use.

What's that? A new contest's here?
I click the news in utter fear,
Followed by the sounds of drear.

This week they want to build a gnome
Out of things we find at home,
But all I have is some styrofoam...

I try and try with all my might,
Molding a 'pet and, to my delight,
Emerges a contender whose future is bright!

"This is avatar worthy!"
Said the voice inside of me,
Setting it down full of glee.

As luck would have it, a stroke of fate.
The styrofoam disintegrates --
I guess the avatar will have to wait....

The New Neopets App
by Indulgences

I look forward to
The brand new Neopets app.
I'm getting goosebumps!

My boss checks all
Of my web activity.
I cannot log in!

So, this I now say --
I want Neo on my phone!
Hurry, TNT!

I want to play games
And check up on my accounts.
It's a small request!

I want to giggle.
I want to chat on the boards.
I love the players!

So thanks, TNT,
For the cool upcoming app!
You are all rock stars!

Ode To The Super Happy Icy Fun Snow Shop
by Savanah150

I visit you each day.
You are my favorite food.
I love your “icy treats,”
They put me in a SUPER HAPPY MOOD.

My owner loves you, too.
Refreshing page after page,
She spends lots of Neopoints
In your freezing chilly ice age.

We work really hard; team effort 
To perfect our haggling,
In hopes that it will stock
The ultimate: a rare Chia pop!!!

We used to have a collection,
But my sister the snow Chia, Annie,
Gobbled them right up.
She use to be very canny.

We hide all the treats (just in case)
In our Safety Deposit Box.
Annie is now happy and healthy,
And my owner is a lot wealthier.

Love, 
Ellsie the Peophin

The Woes Of The Money Tree
by Dianacat777

Neopia Central’s bright sunrise
Hails yet another lovely day.
Across the world, its citizens wake,
Ready to shop, converse, and play.

The Money Tree smiles, greets the sun.
Its branches stretch; its leafy glade
Invites all ‘pets to come hither.
Both wealthy and poor flock to its shade.

The rich donate to the less lucky.
Its lovely cycle... at a glance.
Watch -- a paint brush surfaces in the pile
And is quickly contested by several hands.

But, while the one that pulls it out exults,
He already had tons of NP,
And as the needy watch sadly on,
The brush goes straight to his SDB.

Still, it’s just a single incident.
Surely more goods will surface?
Just take a look around and you
Will find that it is not the case.

The tree lies choked beneath a pall
Of things unwanted, carelessly tossed.
Dung muffins, driftwood, soggy shoes
Are "donated" and quickly lost.

A few Neopoints can be found
By piles of sludge and holey bags,
And past the seaweed tangles lies
Just soggy boxes and empty cans.

But surely there is food, at least?
Things to fill a hungry belly?
Here’s an omelette -- but oh, it’s rotten...
And I don’t trust that spotted jelly.

The realization’s slow to dawn,
But when it does, my shoulders slump.
The Tree extols the generous...
But it’s become a Rubbish Dump.

So please, whenever you stop by,
Don’t wait for things shiny and rare.
Instead, clean out some of the junk
If you wish to show you truly care.

And by the roots lie treasures great
For the poor and emptiest of sacks.
The real treasure here, you will find,
Is not taking, but giving back.

The Evil Bow's Origin
by Flufflepuff

Welcome to the Haunted Woods,
Where fear doth seldom sleep.
'Tis evident in each tree branch
And in the fog that creeps,
Within each malice-tingèd moan
Uttered by naked trees,
Stirred both by crude intruders and
The slightest chilling breeze.

'Tis a perfect place for shadows
Who dwell without their peace.
In places one would not expect,
On th' hapless, they release
Themselves. But one so mystical
Lies hidden in the depths.
Where shadows skirt and learn to flee --
In th' darkest hollow yet.

The few trespassers rash enough
To blindly stumble in
Are stung by arrows, poisoned, vile, 
From th' entity within.
Wrought by thoughts and evil deeds,
He forges, with diligence,
Expressive darts both short and long,
Which flow with poison dense.

Dissatisfied with bows of old
He carves with fury dark,
Wishing naught but t' rid all good
and leave his blackened mark.
A new and dismal sort of work,
He, with magic, begins
His preparations to fling far
His cruelest deeds of sin.

The shrouded figure hisses words
Too inhumane to write
And doth project his sorcery,
Creative with his spite.
At last, the cauldron's smoke doth rise
With promises so foul,
A stench to rot the nearby blood
And one heart-rending howl.

It rests upon the iron curve --
Fierce, undelicate,
Glowing purple with desire,
Endowed with rude mindset.
Pulsating fingers grasped the bow 
And held it in the air.
The instrument, his masterpiece,
Was sure to cause despair,

Provided that its bearer had
A heart noble and pure.
If that should be the cases, he'd face
Pain past what he'd endure.
The basest laugh rang through the woods
Right to its thin outskirts.
A triumph to yield triumphs more
And worlds of anguished hurt.

Welcome to the Haunted Woods,
Where evil runs amok. 
If you're evil, then welcome home!
But if you're good, you're stuck....