A Series of Unrelated Poems - Riddles are Poems, too

Riddles are Poems, too

Aug 10, 2014

418

1 Min Read

This chapter is all about Riddles. Enjoy.

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm2IalCMbH1

I drive men mad.

Women take me in chains.

Rushing I've had,

And I've no brains.

For love of me

Kings make a seat.

I am never free,

And am easily beat.

What am I?

Gold. It drives people mad, like America was during the Gold Rush; women have gold necklaces; the Gold Rush is the "rushing"; kings had gold most of the time, and they loved it; gold is easily beat into shape, compared to other metals.

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuc9kTJWrHQ

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7niV38FblY

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSZrFDgbszA

Ripped from my mother's womb,

People change my faiths and beliefs

So that I become a blood-thirsty killer.

What am I?

Iron (or other metallic ore). Ore mined from Earth, made into weapons.

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUAUNji8jNp

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmAr6yUboAL

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpGt37K7zkI

Four of us are in the field,

But our differences keep us at yield.

First, one that is no fool.

Though she resembles a gardener's tool.

Next, one difficult to split in two,

And a girl once had one as big as her shoe.

Then, to the mind, one as a lovely bonder

As absence makes it grow fonder.

Last is a stem connecting dots of three.

Knowing this, what are we?

The suits of a card deck (spade, diamond, heart, club).

A field of cards; a spade is a shovel; love is difficult to split up, and apparently in a nursery rhyme, a girl had a heart as big as her shoe; diamond is a rock, but it's rare, so people are more fond of it when it starts disappearing; a three-leafed clover.

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRXwfr1LGTg

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhjE5kYIXGN

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxt4K4f0IBC

This last one some of you may be familiar with, as it was not made by me, but by an author of a famous trilogy and prequel.

422Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVIp4dnYJCq

What has roots that nobody sees,

Is taller than trees,

Up, up it goes

Yet it never grows?

A mountain. Caves as roots, and they're dark, too. Mountains are big, but don't grow like trees.

ns 15.158.61.46da2

Riddles are Poems, too

REGISTER

LOGIN

Interface Language:

Story Language: