YURBLE DAY SPECIAL

Pssssttt....It's Yurble Day!
by rosesofthespring

The thick manes are brushed with care,
The strong horns polished clean,
Neopia's aflare,
With news from the Queen!

All yurbles are groomed,
For their special day.
"My have you bloomed!"
Queen Fyora did say.

From farming to mopping,
As The Janitor does,
Yurbles aren't stopping,
The world is abuzz!

So lets honour these pets,
Their work and their beauty
All their assets,
And all of their duties.

Three cheers for the species!
Hip-hip-hooray!
For I heard from the queen...
It's Yurble Day!

Yurble Tales: An Excellent Read
by dzudea

I have read
a lot of books
that my owner gets,
and "Yurble Tales" is
my favorite one yet!
Each story conveys
a different tone
to entertain you
on a day you are
feeling alone.

The first story is
a little bit sad:
A green Yurble loses
her beloved pet Kad.
Upon reading
the first tale,
you might want 
to grab and hug
your own dear Petpet,
be it Warf or Scarabug.

The second tale
managed to
give me a fright,
so try not to
read that one
in the night!

The third story
leaves readers
feeling quite brave,
Two Yurbles explore
a mysterious cave.

The fifth and
final tale
ends the book
on a happy note...
Pick up a copy
of "Yurble Tales"
to see what
they wrote!

The Forgotten Yurble This Yurble Day
by painted_dreams87

This Yurble Day,
as we all go out,
there's one poor Yurble,
you've likely forgotten about.

Some know him as a janitor.
Others call him the foreman.
He's also a librarian.
He's talents span.

However you refer to him,
he's best known for his attitude.
He snaps, yells, and complains.
He's really quite rude.

Have you ever stopped 
to wonder why? 
Behind every outburst,
what's wrong with this guy?

We call him the Angry Yurble.
We don't even know his real name.
When you think about it,
it's such a shame.

He may be hard to love,
but he get the job done.
Next time you see him,
consider where he's been.

He's been through a lot
and put up with our lack of care.
Put the past behind you,
and get to know him square.

A Most Disgruntled Employee
by sunbathr

"Ungrateful, spoiled, silly, unkind,"
he mutters gruffly beneath his breath.
"If only I could relax, sleep, unwind --
if only that visitor would give me a rest."

"What visitor?" you ask, taken aback
and the old yurble grumbles, angrily mumbles:

"That astronomy boy -- sometimes a girl,
he visits my museum and lets trouble unfurl!
He stumbles and trips and makes a great mess
he sometimes causes kingdom-wide unrest!

That stupid, awful visitor of mine,
leaves rocks in odd places and wastes all my time.
He searches in crannies, he messes with walls,
he lights up old statues, he desecrates my halls!
I'm a janitor!" he yells, "a respected profession!
If that pesky old visitor commits another transgression --"
he quiets a moment, his threat left half-formed
overtaken by anger, and deeply forlorn.

"Oh yes," you say, and sagely go on
to smile and compliment and over him, fawn.
He gives you a smile, you let out a safe sigh --
he didn't notice the flat rock you smuggled inside.

Behold, the Yurble Raider!
by anjie

Silent doth the bow draw back,
Two fingers bend the string.
A rapid breath, the quick release,
As arrow forth does fling.
Steady is the Yurble’s gaze,
As weapon fast does fly.
A shadow breath; a whistling wind,
As arrow arcs the sky.

Target reached, the Yurble drops,
Each bough, an easy spring.
Grasps a branch, then lifts his form,
And to the ground doth swing.
Raiding as he plunders forth,
To meet the wicked foe.
A phantom with a steady shot,
And gaze with rakish glow.

They say in days so now long past,
When Meridell seemed bleak.
He fought to rid the realm of Kass,
With wicked bow’s technique.
And motivation did remain,
A mystery, it seems.
Neither bad, nor good, at that,
And yet between both teams.

Flawless instinct, trusted aim,
A myth? Or deadly real?
He was the foe within the fray,
When there was loot to steal.
The Yurble Raider, lost to time,
Now stories do remain.
Of Yurble with the rapid bow,
Who sought to fight and gain.

The Yurble Farmer
by alyndasgallery

There was a Yurble Farmer,
Who adored his farmyard home.
But there was just one thing,
That would never leave him alone.

For his farm was home to many,
A slippery slimy little beast.
The Slorgs, they loved his veggies,
And liked to eat them for a feast.

The Farmer was a cheerful man,
But these critters put him on edge.
So he grabbed his Slorg-B-Gone,
From his barnyard's work bench.

The Yurble set out to the field,
And quickly surveyed the crop.
He got out his Slorgeriser,
And he vowed to never stop.

POW POW POW! The Farmer fired,
The Slorgs all shrieked in fear.
The battle was over for now,
But another day was drawing near.

The Yurble stood and stretched,
Headed back towards his home.
Ready to face the Slorgs again,
They never left his fields alone!

The Maraquan Yurble
by amethyst_81

As gentle as the lazy stream,
That flows to river's end,
And playful as the faerie folk,
With naught but time to spend.
Like emerald seagrass sways his mane,
His hide, like stone, is gray,
And worn as smooth by time and tide,
For how long, none can say.

Slight movements imperceivable,
His presence unbetrayed,
Maraquan Yurble drifts with ease,
Through underwater glade.
Do not misjudge his rotund form,
For swiftly can he swim,
Propelled by tail quite powerful,
Exploring on a whim.

If you should e'er encounter him,
Out on the open sea,
Or lounging in the shade below,
An overhanging tree,
Be sure to pause and speak a while,
For never shall you find
A soul as kind and jovial,
As joyful and refined.

Moltara's Smartest Yurble: Our Fiery Friend
by _brainchild_

If you crave satisfying reads,
Moltara is your place,
Providing you can brave the heat
Without a sweaty face!

There is an Arcanium
That's full of awesome books.
Sure to boost your cranium,
It's not known just for looks!

This place is operated by
A Yurble oh so swell.
Within his lair, the knowledge lies,
Along with magma wells.

He will help you find a read
That surely interests you.
His advice you'll surely heed
When finding books anew!

Whatever you wish to learn,
You should visit him,
Provided you aren't scorched and burned
By magma to the brim.

Yurble Artist Smock
by indulgences

The Artist Smock fills me with cheer.
It's splattered bright with paint.
I love to think the Yurble draws
Without care or restraint.

He doesn't scrimp on oils and dyes.
He buys them all, nonplussed.
He saturates his many works
With colors luminous.

He wipes his brushes on his smock.
He can't be bothered now
To buy a separate towel for
His brushes, anyhow.

His smock is splattered red and blue,
With yellow and with green.
It looks creative, worn and fun,
Not sterile, pale or clean.

The Artist Smock is marvelous.
It fills me with delight.
It's charming and it's colorful.
It's lively, fine and bright!

Attack of the Slorgs
by pepper_imp

On the backdrop of old Meridell,
a terrible tale began,
featuring an age-old troublemaker,
a plight upon the land.

A poor old humble farmer,
just tending to his fruits,
Thinking of the summer sun
And dreaming of tchea juice,

Shouted out with horror
As he stumbled out one day
To find a line of hungry slorgs
Had come out to play

They were munching and devouring
All his hard-grown veg,
Without a care for anything,
they tore the poor garden to shreds.

The farmer was quite angered
By this sordid state of affairs
And so the irked Yurble chose
To give the slogs a scare.

With Slorg-B-Gone in hand,
He took to the garden path,
And sprayed the slogs away until
He got his garden back.