Riddle Poems

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
A while back, I had fun writing riddle poems about commonplace objects. Here is one to solve or as a prompt.

I may wear lace, brocade or gingham,
or shudder in my own bare frame.
In mansion or in hovel,
look to me for weather’s moods,
time’s shifts from bright to dark.

My outlook changes constantly,
never twice the same.
What you see this moment
will not appear again.

If need be, my single eyelid
will hide you from the curious
or the moon’s intrusive stare.
 
Last edited:

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Nice! I've guessed the answer, I think, but in case anyone wants to go the prompt route I won't post my guess for a while.

(May use it as a prompt myself; have to see what comes along here.)
 

CassandraW

Banned
Flounced
Kind Benefactor
Joined
Feb 18, 2012
Messages
24,012
Reaction score
6,476
Location
.
I've guessed it. How does one use it as a prompt? Is the idea to come up with another riddle poem? (Not so sure that's my thing, but it's a fun idea.)
 

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Write your answer in a poem.
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
That was quick! If you feel like solving another one, let me know.
 

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Not as elegant as the riddle, but perhaps it will entertain.

I stand thin
brittle
vulnerable between
in and out
safe and storm

sometimes
I am invisible
sometimes
I am raised up
sometimes
closed.

I can break,
oh yes!
but unlike a mirror's
seven years,
shatter me
your bad luck
is only brief.

No pane?
no pain,
just fix
the window.
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
Wonderful! The answer and the poem.
 

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Thanks! I'd love to play with more of these. Fun!
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
It was fun writing them.

Fish, flesh and fowl
swim beneath my waters.
A garden's harvest glows there.
To trawl my smooth-banked, rounded pond,
one implement is all you need.
Hook, line and net
would draw odd looks
from puzzled fellow-fishermen.

***
Like generations before her,
labor never varies, never ends.
Slender, stiff-necked, hair tightly bound,
she carries on their work.
You will never hear her speak aloud,
only harsh and hostile whispers
as she goes about the house.
Job done, she rests against a wall
or retires to her quarters
until called upon again.
An exorcist who cannot win,
she will wear herself down
in the struggle.
 

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Two different riddles there, correct?
 

poetinahat

say it loud
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Apr 12, 2005
Messages
21,851
Reaction score
10,441
I love these. (Demeter, I've guessed the second; I may have the first, but wouldn't be surprised if I were wrong.)

Once upon a time, many years ago in the Writing Games forum, another thread of riddle poems flourished. I'm so glad we have a new one.

These were my contributions:

1.
Once you've met me, you can't rest
you cannot shrug and let me go
but once you've seen me as a whole
do I still entertain you? No.

There is no joy in knowing me
when once my secrets you've exposed
but introduce me to a friend;
you smile as their vexation grows.

*

2.
My tawny skin, my slender belt
and darkly sweet aroma
invite anticipation while
unmatched my pleasures be

yet only is my essence felt
as meditative coma
when I'm destroyed - a dusty pile,
blue haze of memory

*
 
Last edited:

CassandraW

Banned
Flounced
Kind Benefactor
Joined
Feb 18, 2012
Messages
24,012
Reaction score
6,476
Location
.
It was fun writing them.

Fish, flesh and fowl
swim beneath my waters.
A garden's harvest glows there.
To trawl my smooth-banked, rounded pond,
one implement is all you need.
Hook, line and net
would draw odd looks
from puzzled fellow-fishermen.

***
Like generations before her,
labor never varies, never ends.
Slender, stiff-necked, hair tightly bound,
she carries on their work.
You will never hear her speak aloud,
only harsh and hostile whispers
as she goes about the house.
Job done, she rests against a wall
or retires to her quarters
until called upon again.
An exorcist who cannot win,
she will wear herself down
in the struggle.

I'm too lazy tonight to write my own poems in answer, so I'll steal from Lewis Carroll and Emily Dickinson:

Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!



***************

She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
 
Last edited:

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Good work there, Cass, even if it's not your own. :D

I think I've got the first one of Mr. Hat's but not yet sure of the second.

I'm being stubborn and waiting til I can come up with my answer in a poem, which won't be tonight.

ETA: I was wrong, it was tonight.
 
Last edited:

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
1.
Once you've met me, you can't rest
you cannot shrug and let me go
but once you've seen me as a whole
do I still entertain you? No.

There is no joy in knowing me
when once my secrets you've exposed
but introduce me to a friend;
you smile as their vexation grows.


*

Here's a snake that bites its tail,
a question that can't stop questioning,
a feedback loop in fine fiddly detail,
a verbal perpetual motion machine!
It's a riddle
about a riddle!

(and the exclamation points are special delivery for Cass.)
 

CassandraW

Banned
Flounced
Kind Benefactor
Joined
Feb 18, 2012
Messages
24,012
Reaction score
6,476
Location
.
(and the exclamation points are special delivery for Cass.)

I stand alert and drop a turd
at the end of every line!
Don't trust yourself to merely words!
If you're excited, give a sign!
 

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
:roll:

Good one, but you know, you really telegraphed the answer.
 

CassandraW

Banned
Flounced
Kind Benefactor
Joined
Feb 18, 2012
Messages
24,012
Reaction score
6,476
Location
.
2.
My tawny skin, my slender belt
and darkly sweet aroma
invite anticipation while
unmatched my pleasures be

yet only is my essence felt
as meditative coma
when I'm destroyed - a dusty pile,
blue haze of memory

*

scoping out the pretty people
in sundry dark and smoky bars
remember when you read their signals
cigars are sometimes just cigars
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
I guessed poetinahat's first one but I kept tripping over that belt in the second one. Easier to write than solve them. I love Kylabelle's and Cassandra's answers as poems. Want more?
 
Last edited:

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Of course! Thanks for starting this up (again) Demeter....
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
Two more:



They are old companions,
opposites in every way.
He is made of sturdier stuff
though subject to the ills of age.
She is versatile, impressionable,
sensitive to temperature,
reduced by heat to dissolution
in cold a golden girl.

They meet always with a close embrace.
She clings.
He is the better for it:
complementary opposites,
their differences are smoothed away.

**************

Source, font and reservoir,
granary and root cellar,
unshaped clay of prose and poetry,
whatever use you make of me,
I cannot be exhausted.
Harvest me.
Shelves are filled with preserves
from my bounty,
labelled, waiting to be opened,
their singular flavors set free.
They are my progeny,
myself remade.
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
Got it! Cassandra's last one.
 
Last edited:

Kylabelle

unaccounted for
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jan 3, 2013
Messages
26,200
Reaction score
4,015
Source, font and reservoir,
granary and root cellar,
unshaped clay of prose and poetry,
whatever use you make of me,
I cannot be exhausted.
Harvest me.
Shelves are filled with preserves
from my bounty,
labelled, waiting to be opened,
their singular flavors set free.
They are my progeny,
myself remade.

Ah, I used to be
so lovely and whole,
delighting the senses of all.

But the Tower of Babel did for that
when it caused my perfection to fall.

Now I lie shattered
but pick up the shards
and sing me a lay or two.
It's language I am
if that ever mattered
to any but me and you.
 

Demeter

Dreaming North. Remembering Maine
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jul 27, 2015
Messages
206
Reaction score
20
Location
Bronxville NY
This morning I was thinking of preoccupations that have overtaken me at various times in my writing and how they come and go. This was the result:
VISITATIONS

They came uninvited, stayed too long,
the Muses’ distant relatives,
fifth or seventh cousins,
unmentioned by the family.

Not easy guests, obsessive,
insistent, imposing quirks and manias.
One, with a trunkful of masks
and disguises, spoke in riddles,
smug as the Sphinx
with her little half-smile.

Another, in kimono and obi,
wooden sandals at the door,
unrolled a tatami, settled in.
Exquisite, measured, precise,
she stood behind me as I wrote,
dictating her requisite numbers:

Five, seven and five,
five, seven and five, not more,
not less, not ever.

Salam, Sayonara, enough,
they left at last.
But who is that at the window?
What games do they want to play?