Performing Arts Collab Special

Performing Arts: A Poet’s Process
by t0tor0

How do I write a poem? My,
I’ll say that it takes me some time.
I pick the subject and then I
Select a rhythm and a rhyme.

I sit down at my desk and grin;
It’s time to focus and brainstorm.
The blank page slowly gets filled in.
My poem’s growing, taking form.

I like that turn of phrase! Yes, why,
It fits the cadence that I’ve set—
But wait! It doesn’t match with my
Preferred rhyme scheme like this, not yet.

I rearrange my words and frown.
I look up synonyms and put
The rhyming dictionary down.
Perhaps I could add one more foot?

I sigh, and go to get rid of
The phrase, when suddenly I see
A way to keep the line I love!
I’d overlooked a simile.

A cheer, then I elaborate
Upon my theme, or maybe I’ll
Continue to write and narrate
The tale I’m telling in this style.

I’ve written most of it by now.
My poem’s coming to an end.
The time has come to take a bow.
I hope that you enjoyed, my friend.

When the Night Turns Grey: for Sasha, the Dancer
by cookiez101

How she’ll twirl in the square
this dizzying whirl of
purple, gold, white.

She won’t need a candle
never a lantern
her beacon is so bright.

She waves her paws
tossing her tambourine
her eyes shut tight.

For in her head
she sees an ocean
so blue and free.

This is Sasha’s party
cerulean washed
can’t you see?

She watches light
rising and rippling water
tiptoeing whitecaps that beckon and lead.

Cheers and dancing —
friends are there.
Clouds scuttle, pulling apart.

She is like a strange substance —
something that moulds and takes on
a different hue, or foreign parts.

She is both the light and the storm —
and so there lies
the true heart.

Performing on Roo Island
by profebest

Today feels like tomorrow,
Tomorrow feels like Blumaroo,
My talent showing off the Window,
But my heart needs to endure,

Dice-a-roo it's a gamble,
Roll the dice uncontrollable,
Until you find the silver afterglow,
Within that roll you will win Jackpot,

Listening to the music of the Merry Go Round,
I have won a new ride destiny it's right,
Roo Island is where I belong,
Performing arts on the Playground.

The Rock 'n' Roll Wonderclaw Machine: A Performer's Lament
by _brainchild_

I miss the Rock 'n' Roll Machine!
My handy Wonderclaw
Brought wares so edgy, for a queen,
Inspiring lots of awe.
A rock star I have always been---
I wore those gems onstage!
Yet they will not be seen again,
Which makes me want to rage.

The Rocker Face Paint made me look
So grand, but now I'm out
Of sparkling makeup, and some more
Is gone for good, no doubt.
My Rocker Leather Tasseled Dress
Is all worn out, yet I
Can't get another. I confess---
I really want to cry.

Unfortunately, I must trade
For items so unique.
A lot of effort must be made---
The journey seems quite bleak.
The rocker's spirit may live on,
Yet items sure do not.
That dress I will no longer don---
I'm stuck with what I've got.

The Concert Hall
by zebradee

Across wide plains of rock and stone
in a land much older than our own,
there stands a hall on hallowed ground
whose walls are imbued with the sound
of all the greats, performers who
present their art each night anew

The thumping bass, the shrill guitar,
the voices heard so loud and far
as all who came to see the show
unite as one, their song aglow

The light of commonality.
Together in this land, you see,
for just tonight, and for the price
of coffee or Achyfi Ice
the world is brought back into tune
and all have hope that someday soon
the power of those who play their songs
will right the lands of all their wrongs.

So if you have the time to go
to the land much older than our own
and find the hall on hallowed ground
whose walls are imbued with this sound,
I hope that you will hear the call
of Tyrannia’s famed concert hall.

For the Love of Music
by parody_ham

The Brightvale University choir
Hear them sing, they never tire
Crowds form up with joy in their hearts
Listen as the music starts

Notes resound with jubilant sound
As countless townsfolk gather around
And join in, too, the song’s embrace
Smiles abound on every face

Trumpets blast with echoing brass
Timpanis boom with resolute crash
As the symphony of Brightvale fair
Harmonizes in the market square

Celebrate the sound of song
Enveloped by musicians strong
World-class performing arts in town
With just one note you’ll never frown

Concordant sounds amaze and astound
The finest music talent around
Neopians from miles afar
Know these students set the bar

Blue Kacheek Group
by darkobsession

Tired of Gruundo's loud electric guitar ?
The Hikalalas make you wanna jump into the pits of tar ?
Jazzmosis is just dull and full of despair ?
Moehawk damaged your ears beyond repair ?
2 Gallon Hatz .. pffft who cares ?
Ever said No to Yes Boy Ice-Cream ?
Can't stand the way CATFB scream ?
Let me tell you about three blue Kacheeks
Their music is not just for freaks
It's true they are odd and bizarre
Who became underground superstars 
They may bang on pots and pans
And play on pipes (just 'cuz they can)
But there's a je ne sais quoi to their show
What it is I really don't know
Make sure to check out their concert
They will bring out your inner extrovert
And make you a-splode with an outburst
Especially when they play their #1 Hit
"Blue Kacheek Group Drink Gorgroggle Soup"

Sky Dance for the Lost: Ode to Sasha
by halfkitten

On bad nights the claws of tiny yellow stars 
Seem to pull and flail at their nocturnal threading. 
Vertigo: I am swallowed into wormholes of smallness. 

But, tonight is clear:
Her celestial song printed in the stars,
Carried by their stellar scintillation. 

I look because I am lost: 
What do I dream about, now?
Where do I hide, if not in sleep?
I trace your notes of hope, 
Symmetry in my world which has lost its axis. 

When your streets whistled with emptiness, 
You danced. 
Through the suffocation of cement against skin
Of lightless basements, 
You sang. 

I heard your bones radiate starlight, 
The shimmering spinning releasing
Your uncaged spirit. 

I witnessed the wilderness of your voice,
Untouched by fear, 
Pouring from your body onto ours. 

The sky is your perfect landscape, 
A stage with no bounds. 

Your eyes are now interstellar, 
But I am still frozen by your stare. 
I wonder if they hear you over on the moon, 
If they need your rescue, too.

I long to orbit, to satellite, to ascend into
That faith.
Preserved, eternal. 
Your lullaby slows my waning.