Quotes about riddle, page 14
A Medusa's calling…
As its translucent body rings-out
Under an unheard, jet propulsion…
Question; does it cast shadows?
Does its prey know of an answer?
To this rhythmic, Medusa's calling…
It's death squad of little stings?
Why is it they, avoid shadows.
Contracting in the suns arrows…
Why does a bell without a gong.
Cause such alarm just wearing,
A sarong, swimming, vertically,
Diligently, towards the rising sun…
Why is it they disguise themselves?
As a millpond ripple is it in order
That we shall ignore their riddle?
And, think them an innocent suspect.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Through The Heart
I see through the heart like glass,
Opening the books of the mouth;
My solutions are clearer than the lips
That politely shut to avoid duty.
My lies are so much absent and present,
Begging is no escape, begging is no properness.
To solve the riddle of the past
We must solve ourselves like the heart.
Open this organ of hidden qualities
Like the opening of a drum and song.
Long and hard we seem to strum like a past,
A past well hidden at last, particularly now.
The heart is hidden in height as a weight,
We wait and we wait, the heart is fond.
poem by Naveed Akram
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You Played And Sang A Snatch Of Song
You played and sang a snatch of song,
A song that all-too well we knew;
But whither had flown the ancient wrong;
And was it really I and you?
O, since the end of life's to live
And pay in pence the common debt,
What should it cost us to forgive
Whose daily task is to forget?
You babbled in the well-known voice -
Not new, not new the words you said.
You touched me off that famous poise,
That old effect, of neck and head.
Dear, was it really you and I?
In truth the riddle's ill to read,
So many are the deaths we die
Before we can be dead indeed.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Kicks-Cauchy3
Kick….
Dancer marked by polo heads.
Politics pieces are served on easy.
Strange to walk are catchy winds.
Strange to get are polo tint.
Give the butcher candy can.
Give the fools my little rights.
Minor rules are candy man.
Upper ranges are over our might.
Buggers ears that sting our words!
Bugger works are bitchy worlds.
Versions on laws are riddle piles.
Version laws are poor to kick.
Kick the dances are crying down.
Kick on sides are piggy crown.
Rare to rise are polo thinks.
Give the fools my little rights.
[...] Read more
poem by Cheung Shun Sang
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Simple Idea (language Poetry)
‘Air ‘is unable to fly with a ‘ch'
Though I know how to make
‘able ‘to stand with a ‘Ta'
In the dingy corner of my room
Tell me what do you do?
Though I am alone you are two
Still I sit upon both of you
To tie down the fallen foliage
Of my heart, yellow.
My mind remains clear
When you push up blood
Through my erect spine
Though I do not know
If both of you have any one.
Burning the oil, sitting upon you, at mid night
So many People have brought out so many lights
So sit I too and make a riddle, difficult,
with an idea very very simple.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Is Life A Riddle?
When a slight mishap
unsettles him,
O my Gracious Lord,
You cause a disaster to him.
When he struggles
to swim in a lake,
O my Blessed God,
You push him into the violent sea.
When he shivers
to trek a small hill,
O my Great The Almighty,
You guide him towards the Everest.
When he yearns
For a daily wage,
O my Nourisher
You thrill him with a bumper prize.
[...] Read more
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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It Came Into My Mind
it came into my mind what she started as a riddle.
syllables of life.
and of the seasons.
nine syllables for her till blooming till wilting
of the chrysanthemum, those which are not so white
against the snowy mountain of Fuji
two syllables for her brief stay in the woods
when she comes back as part of the wood itself
the twigs mourn for her
the leaves do not sing and the river stops flowing.
i ask myself, now that i have learned what syllables stand for.
how many syllables do i need to love you completely?
i have only one for you. The rest shall be my lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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4. Its Crackers
Twenty four gold Christmas crackers
Wrapped with a pretty red bow
Placed on the table for Christmas
To brighten things up don’t you know
All guests get seated together
With comments on such a fine spread
But should they pull crackers to start with
Or leave them till later instead
The children decide for the grown ups
Each one grabs a cracker and pull
Wide eyed they wait for the winners
But crackers were empty not full
Not one single comical riddle
A cheap plastic toy or crepe crown
All twenty four gold Christmas crackers
Left all of my guests with a frown
[...] Read more
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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The Sphinx
Wanderer, behold Life's riddle writ in stone,
Fronting Eternity with lidless eyes;
Of all that is beneath the changing skies,
Immutably abiding and alone.
The handiwork of hands unseen, unknown,
When Pharaohs of immortal dynasties
Built Pyramids to brave the centuries,
Cheating Annihilation of her own.
The heart grows hushed before it. Nay, methinks
That Man, and all on which Man wastes his breath,
The World, and all the World inheriteth,
With infinite, inexorable links
Grappling the soul; that love, hate, birth and death
Dwindle to nothingness before thee--Sphinx.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Faith
Since all that is was ever bound to be;
Since grim, eternal laws our Being bind;
And both the riddle and the answer find,
And both the carnage and the calm decree;
Since plain within the Book of Destiny
Is written all the journey of mankind
Inexorably to the end; since blind
And mortal puppets playing parts are we:
Then let's have faith; good cometh out of ill;
The power that shaped the strife shall end the strife;
Then let's bow down before the Unknown Will;
Fight on, believing all is well with life;
Seeing within the worst of War's red rage
The gleam, the glory of the Golden Age.
poem by Robert William Service
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