Jays singing sweetly

Circling above our heads

At the crack of dawn

Feathers brush the sky

Soft whispers on the cool breeze

Freedom’s song takes flight

Swift dive, water splits

Silver flash in talons’ grip

A meal for their child...

I turn the 'OPEN' sign over. Another day in the DMV. I get in earlier than Tholm, which is unusual. He comes in, panting. Claims something crazy just happened.

Eh. I don't really care anymore. It's only a year or two until I can get into art college, where I might have a bit more imagination. But here? Eh.

"No, really, it really happened!" says Tholm, "Eveything, was, like, glowing!" he says.

...

Alone, in a small greenhouse, lived a goblin. Not just an ordinary goblin, a ground-goblin. Do you wish for me to elaborate?

Ground-goblins are goblins who have origins in plant-life, originally being a small shrub themself. This particular ground-goblin decided to spend his life looking after the green that could one day become his brother.

Not just an ordinary greenhouse, either.

The walls we...

Rolf's Story- It was... tolerable weather outside. Nothing special, of course, for it was the middle of March, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the storms a few weeks ago.

I suppose you'd want a bit of backstory. Call me Rolf.

Modern life was killing me, man. I couldn't bear another day with _phones _or _television_. So I went to life in the mountains. For a profession... I guess you could say I'...

Some poems have rhythm, rhymes and technique,

This one doesn't.

I am here to tell you about stories and verses,

Hidden beneath the covers.

Something can run or hide,

or leap and dance,

solve a mystery,

or run a marathon.

All you need is a subject.

A person, a thing, whatever.

The rest folds out, alike the page....

Coming down my letterbox, a shiver down my spine

I rush outside to find the streets deserted.

A humble knock is all it takes for me to look inside,

And I see a small envelope inserted.

I gently take it out, and rest it on the stove,

I singe it with a flame and it opens.

A postcard is at view, with small letters backside,

My luck is getting better, I hopens.

"Dear who it may concern, a story is t...

Something fake, not even awake, amidst the darkness, crying.

"It could cause the abolting," no hands dolting, one brave man, trying.

Memories pure, they've seen the world, forever cold, untrue,

Even though it cannot speak, a warm, sunny Peru.

A holiday in the mind,

Is all it has to remind,

Everything's a hood,

Until you've saw the good....