YURBLE DAY SPECIAL

Battle of a Yurble Farmer
By Anjie

A healthy crop sits in the sun,
But farmer's work is never done.
Where Meridell itself does stand,
This Yurble fights to save his land.
He battles to win control back,
From Slorgs that seek a tasty snack.

So many days spent hard at work,
Enough to drive poor guy berserk.
The Yurble farmer and his crop
Find Slorg attacks just never stop!
His coiled ears kept tense and low,
And shall be as his farm does grow!

His work remains his pride and joy,
(Despite the Slorg group's wicked ploy!)
The Yurble tends each stalk with care,
Though sun and water do their share.
And though the pests might chomp and munch,
He won't let them eat crops for lunch!

Those padded paws do tread the soil,
After long days filled with toil.
A gleam of pride in vibrant eyes,
"This crop's a winner!" are his cries.
And so the Slorgs must slide away,
The Yurble Farmer wins the day!

A Yurble Attitude
By Flutedad

Yurble eyes call out to me
Beckons all that they can see
Mischievous soul never ill-willed
Leads a life all pleasure filled

Yurble fur so soft and full
Warmer than rich Babaa wool
Heats an inner soul of bliss
Life where little goes amiss

Yurble world a place of charm
Never suffer any harm
Extract the joy in every day
Never work always play

Yurble dance a fur ballet
Humming softly while they sway
Troubles never do commence
No pet will ever give offence

Yurble slumber comes with ease
Untroubled sleep if you please
Sadness is a nameless theory
Only delight can be seen clearly

Yurble live a simple life
Finding conflict never strife
Wisdom teaches life is long
Suffering through it is just wrong

Summer Skies
By Skycrowmor

The clouds above are paint brush strokes
The sky the lightest pastel blue
The sun filters down through leafy trees
And shines the world in summer hues

The grass a streak of vivid chalk
The poppies bright splashes of scarlet paint
The summer fields are Nature's canvas
The colours burst forth from winter's restraint

On a technicolour field in blazing sun
(Primrose yellow on duck egg blue sky)
A young Yurble sits in a world of his own
Lost in the colours swirling by

His fur is spattered from paint and marks
A paper lies blank as the clouds in one paw
The summer holds endless ideas for a painting
And every one of them too hard to draw

The Yurble sits in contemplation
Searching the view as he lies
And then - "What makes the summer so magical?"
And so he proceeds to paint the sky.

For an hour the artist is lost in his work
Painting with painstaking care
For what is harder to tie down to his paper
Than the free-floating clouds in the air?

Cream-beige clouds and baby blue
And green of the lightest of shades to the deep
The Yurble tucks his work in his arm
And as the sun sets, returns home to sleep

Janitor of the Hall of Heroes
By Yoyote

A furry Neopet of orange fire
With a broom held tight in his paw;
In a hall of stony pride he stands
This Yurble janitor.

Heroes they are, King Altador
And various beings of legend;
Among these splendid ones he sweeps
This Yurble janitor.

He's part of a story; they all are in a way,
And the Yurble is not very major;
He's aggressive, though, for a minor character
This Yurble janitor.
Looking at him, you wouldn't have thought
That he helped unravel a history;
He's short and grumpy and not very nice
This Yurble janitor.

And yet he was a propelling force
Behind the Altador story;
He fussed over mechanics and got things going
This Yurble janitor.

What I learned from that Hall of stone
Was a new definition of "hero";
And thus it's for him that I write my poem
This Yurble janitor.