A Series of Unrelated Poems - Riddles are Poems, too

Riddles are Poems, too

Aug 10, 2014

485

1 Min Read

This chapter is all about Riddles. Enjoy.

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMGT9ve5mFR

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.

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmlb3yy9DLC

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR4iC2NbAvx

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM1oPVHhUCA

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.

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxC0kPgov5L

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmeLtr2LsRj

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9vy4fRlW9R

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.

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGwdtIJn5TY

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0HPKkjR1cG

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNgQvIUVnRb

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.

489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmUeyayn3ev

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.

ns3.16.51.33da2

Riddles are Poems, too

REGISTER

LOGIN

Interface Language:

Story Language: