Riddles & Poetry
These are some things I've written over the years. If you have some riddles of your own, feel free to share them.
My favorites are "Riddle 2," "30 Sheckles," "Lot," "Outnumbered," and "That's a Rap."
and make others dry.
I am in the depths,
though I always go high.
You need me,
and I'm less without you.
Sometimes I'm yellow,
and sometimes I'm blue.
a cold stony heart.
Born of a sapling,
but only in part.
Hide-and-seek
is a game it will play.
It takes back
what it did not say.
was the cost of a bondsman's death.*
And 30 sheckles of silver
was paid for my Lord's arrest.**
He lived to serve***
and died to serve;
he had a servant's heart.
30 sheckles was the cost
for this bondsman to depart.
*Exodus 21:32
**Mathew 26:15
***John 13:5
both strong and kind,
who ruled o'er all the land.
There was a man,
first wise than blind,
vassal o'er all the land.
But then came strife,
and changed was life,
forever in the land.
There was a son,
the king had one,
the man had quite a few.
The sons of man
were an odious lot.
They fought and were selfish and cruel.
The son of the king
came because they'd forgot
the time when his father did rule.
They should have adored him.
Instead they ignored him.
But give them a message he did.
"My father the king
desires only one thing.
Return. You'll be his own kid."
So where do you stand?
There are two families here,
still two peoples sharing this land.
Are you a child of man?
The king bids you hear.
You're welcome to join in his clan.
so you can count to ten.
But wouldn't it be a better deal
to just forgo that pen?
Base two is what computers use;
their counting skills excel.
If you could only count like them,
I'm sure you'd do quite well.
Look at the palm of your right hand
(that you use to say "hello").
The thumb is one, the index two;
just double as you go.
Let's try some simple adding now;
it shouldn't be that tough.
The thumb with index make up three;
let's do some harder stuff.
The little pinky's worth sixteen,
so add it to your three.
If your hand says "I love you,"
nineteen is what you see.
Next add two to what you have.
This should make twenty-one.
Switch your two out for a four-
we aren't nearly done!
Now you have two fingers down
and quite an awkward pose,
so even it out by adding one
and be glad you're not using your toes.
Better add your other hand,
or you might fall behind.
The pinky's number one on this,
so best keep that in mind.
Thirty is a nice round number;
use the left for that:
Use them all except the one-
Hey! Try to make it flat.
That's a mess, so flip it 'round,
sending the thumb to hide.
Subtract the right hand from the left;
now the right hand can subside.
Hold up that eight - it won't stay up?
Then turn your wrist back around.
Let your index stand alone.
This process is sure to astound.
Retain that position for as long as you like,
and have a snack while you wait.
When asked for the answer, you will respond,
"Is this finger two, or eight?"
he ran home.
He ran from a garden gnome
with a tall hat, green shoes, silly little grin.
He thought gnomes were after him.
looks like they'll stay a while.
A business comes, it seems quite strong,
but will it stand time's trial?
Good buys, go buy, goodbye now.
A hardware store, a gas station,
a trinket shop or two.
They come, they stay, they go away,
so what is one to do?
Good buys, go buy, goodbye now.
They'll always come, they'll always go,
so get them while you can.
Then blink your eyes, and turn around,
you can't go there again.
Good buys, go buy, goodbye now.
gracefully soaring higher.
Caterpillar dies.
looking for honey there.
Different tree has bee.
Tsunami and typhoons.
I write a haiku.
shoot me with a knife.
Slice me with a hand grenade;
please just end my life.
Fire slips through the open door;
darkness jumps upon me.
Screaming shadows swallow whole
the light I cannot see.
they'd do strange things, you see.
Don't wanna be a guinea pig;
they'd do strange things to me.
Maybe they just want a cure,
so first they'll make my vision blur.
Then poke and prod me all the night,
until they know what wasn't right.
Don't wanna be a guinea pig;
they'd do strange things, you see.
Don't wanna be a guinea pig;
they'd do strange things to me.
If mutation be their thing,
I may get horns, three ears, one wing.
Then they'll cross me with a mouse,
and I'll give birth to something else.
Don't wanna be a guinea pig;
they'd do strange things, you see.
Don't wanna be a guinea pig;
they'd do strange things to me.
Now it's time to test some stuff.
I'll get a shave and then a fluff.
They let me try their newest soap,
and boy do I look like a dope.
Have I done right, or was my choice bad?
You should've, who says? You could've, it's true.
You didn't, but does it all matter to you?
Should you have done what you didn't dare?
In 50 years, will your grandchildren care?
the land that he's got.
Fate was against him,
that's saying a lot.
Will this love go away,
and tomorrow announce
you despise it?
Are you happy or sad?
Loving or mad?
Will the mood pass before
you realize it?
If you think that you love,
true love comes from above.
It's forever. I hope
that you prize it.
for they're wiser than King Solomon.
The mouths of babes could never speak a sin,
for babes don't know the rules of men.
They say, "you're nice", it must be true.
They say, "you're old" though you're thirty-two.
Men say, "you're thin" when you look like a blimp.
But babes won't get hurt if they call you a wimp.
Men use cliches and try not to make waves.
It's children who know, and those near their graves.
The old and the young, if you ask them a question,
will give honest answers, and make a suggestion.
but the digging dolphins have spilt my ink.
Since crabs chew on three mice at once,
their tails, as a rule, are saved for lunch.
Stopsigns sigh as the day comes to a close,
and my computer dances with the garden hose.
we use it once a year.
Forgotten in a corner,
until our need is dear.
Oh, tell us what you dream of,
as you sit there all alone.
Nary a complaint escapes you,
as you presence does grace our home.
Oh, sometimes we have less,
and sometimes we have more.
But fresh-mashed taters, on that day,
are what I am thankful for.
with an army of twelve to fight.
He called for his sword and he called for his plan, then
his three captains came in fright.
'We have no plan," the first one said,
"but we hope to remedy that."
"We would have walked, but I say instead
that we all ride in on a cat."
"That won't work," the second digressed,
"our weapons are faulty, I'll bet."
"Swords are no match for what we faced
the last time this foe was met."
The third captain said, with an impish smirk,
"Our mounts and our blades are fine."
"The only plan which will truly work
is sneaking up on them from behind."
King Cole thought to himself for a while,
then he explained their approach.
'We'll crush this foe with neither weapon nor guile.
Is it so hard to step on a roach?"
Senseless.
Obscure.
It evades me when I want it.
When I don't,
it draws near.
I'm too picky, it seems.
Impatient.
Remote.
Cupid the cross-eyes lunatic
can't tell an ox
from a goat.
When it's pointed out, I wave it away.
I know there's a tree. I know there's a lake.
I know there is beauty, and I know it'll stay.
In the desert outside there is little to see.
What there is is a cactus or a transplanted tree.
A plant is intriguing. A plant is alive.
A plant provides food but not wonder for me.
A plain, dusty mountain has no wonderful part.
It blocks off the rain and of stone is its heart.
Then the sun comes. Then the sunlight.
Then the shapes and the shadows turn the lump into art.
Though the earth cries for a drink.
No reason to leave the house.
No reason to stay inside.
Unless
The sun is hot, the earth is dry,
and the computer
has no occupant.
Just chew it 'til you've had enough.
Fruity, licorice, or mint.
The price is right, so take a hint.
They used to get the stuff from trees,
but now it comes from factories.
Blow a bubble if you know how.
Listen to me; I'm a gum rapper now.
with people, feelings, knowing what to say.
I'm a mind. We're thinkers. We're planners.
Both types have friends, and both types have manners.
But one's heart is out front, the other's behind.
Two sorts of people: those of heart, those of mind.
and heard the babe was born,
I'd think it was a scandal
and view Mary with scorn.
If I'd been in Galilee
when the teacher passed by,
I'd listen but not hear him.
He's just another guy.
If I'd neared Gethsemane
the night of passover,
I'd hear some other people,
but would not go over.
If I'd come to Golgotha
the day the veil tore,
I'd ask folks what had happened.
Why did I not before?
If I'd been in Israel
the time Jesus would roam,
by the time I understood,
He would be flying home.
What you ask is what you'll get.
Be careful what you desire;
You might just ask for it.
oatmeal with raisins for me.
Yours may be tasty and mine may be pasty,
but of dead-piggie guilt I am free.
in two parts of space,
moving freely through the third;
They come in a set
and stay where they're set:
a plaything, a picture, a word.
Originally Posted by Ritella
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I'm no good at solving riddles and I have a theory that poetry always sounds best when someone else writes it (I hope that's true).
