Galgarroth's Landing
By Schefflera

'Twas in the land of Meridell;
The war with Kass was wearing on.
Though battered by the armies fell,
Not all the tended crops were gone.

The custom was, for all known time,
To compost at the Rubbish Dump.
Some farmers still in their right minds
Came for their fields to take a lump.

"And how are your potatoes, then?"
The minder asked. "I'll get this out--"
But as he stuck the pitchfork in,
The rubbish squirmed and hollered, "Ouch!"

They heard the cry in disbelief.
'Twas muffled -- was there someone trapped?
The minder tried again and heaved,
And out a Grarrl popped with a splat.

In military uniform,
An enemy, a general --
But trussed and muzzled, slimed by worms.
The threat he posed seemed rather small.

So warily they gathered round.
"There's something smells here," one pronounced.
They argued, then at last bent down,
Untied him -- but he didn't pounce.

Much weakened, he sat with a groan,
And told them he was Galgarroth
And what it was that Kass had done
And that he'd really like a bath.

They'd never liked him, nor he them.
Still, he'd fought his maddened lords
And hadn't wanted peace to end,
And so they took him home to board.

He still was ill for quite a while;
Without him played the final act.
Then Darigan flew with a smile
And took him home after the pact.

From second in command he fell,
From citadel to rubbish heap,
Yet mercy found in Meridell,
And raised again, that knowledge reaped.

The Tombola Man
By Deldrimmor

The sun which shines so forcefully,
It's beating on his back,
Our impatience, that he has none.
His kindness, that we lack.

The baking beaches, glistening oceans,
Chattering tourists enticing,
But no! This dude works at his stand,
However, his shop needs repricing.

His floral shirt and gleaming mask,
Shadow what's beneath,
A man of vast bigheartedness,
From his toes up to his teeth.

"What's this?!" we cry, "a booby prize?
I hate this game!" But he thinks,
"I help for free, they want MORE from me?
And since when do freebies stink?"

We're lucky there is someone out there,
Without one thought, lending a hand.
So without object, I do respect,
Our courteous Tombola Man.

Poor Little Grundo Plushie
By Exequy

Poor little Grundo plushie,
Dusty with tears of time,
Forgotten by a friend.
You lie upon your lonely cloud,
Just begging for an end.

Sad and somber on this cloud,
Lying with a shattered heart,
Tell me, is this difficult?
Tell me, is this hard?

What do you do to occupy
Each mirthless, empty day?
Do you try to cry and try to wish
To make it go away?

Or do you sit for endless hours
And watch each passerby,
As you fail in attempt
To let the sorrow die?

If only you could tell the world
Plushies need friends, too.
Maybe then their little hearts
Wouldn't have to rue.

Alas, your mouth won't open,
And the words aren't spoken,
So little plushie, there you lie,
Miserable and broken.

Twisted
By Animageous

Itchy ears and oozing moles,
goopy, shriveled, seeping knolls
infest this dingy rotten hole,
I can't believe it's me.

Wait out the day in dark alone
and make this crusty den my home,
I'm rotting like a moldy gnome;
there is nowhere to flee.

From filthy rim with yellow eyes
I thirst to see the passersby;
could grab their legs and make them cry--
they should lock me with a key.

Only at the longest toll
my craggy pasty fingers crawl,
across the wild night I sprawl;
a twisted fiend let free.

To the sleepy town I storm,
mutated both in shape and form,
to creep like limpid vapor warm;
a hellish ghoul I be.

And yet upon my midnight flight
I catch my stance in pool of light
and taste a lick of sweet delight!
A mighty beast I be.

And with decrepit fingers curled
I turn my back and scorn the world
and relish power now unfurled
for all of you can plainly see:
a twisted hellish mighty mutant
King I be.

A Grey Faerie
By Songful

Where sky is dark and clouds are dank
And gales through branches drone;
A prisoner, once lithe and free --
Now into shadows thrown.

While swirling shades around her wail
Alone she mourns her fate;
For how could she, a faerie wise,
Be caught in evil's bait?

With tear-filled eyes she grieves the past --
A pawn in wicked game;
For hopes destroyed and name long-lost
She has herself to blame.

A distant wish within her beats --
The eyes once bright are blank;
Her silken dress, now torn and patched
Is veiled by her hair lank.

Her world is empty, small and gray
Where every dream is frail;
As noxious night the day will keep
And darkness will prevail.

And still her lonely wish she holds
As rain on dry ground rings;
For how could she break free and fly,
A faerie without wings?