A beast o’ green with yellow crown
O’ertakes the landscape all around.
Mowing men and women down
With claws set deeply underground.
No fearless Knight doth dare confound
The countless creatures’ battleground.
Can ya hear that mournful sound
O’ cries o’ fear from dusk to dawn?
Lovers o’ the fallen ones’
Vengeful tears cry out for war!
Picks and pikes, shovels and swords,
Off to snuff the most awful o’ hoards.
Ripping and tearing the mighty cords
O’ the beasts’ behemoth legs and claws,
Until, at last, the growls and roars
Are ne’er but heard in tales of lore.
Over white mountains,
And through motly gray.
Under the starlight
Of deep outer space.
There, I hear a whispering voice;
My spine chilled by a touch, too moist.
Dream of the younger;
Longing of elders;
Age doesn’t matter,
Thus it’s called never.
To reach out and find what you seek,
Requires, in mind, a smile and wink.
Well my spring break did not go exactly as planned, but things rarely do. I will do my best to throw a few riddles up, but things are mentally slow at the moment. Anyways, here’s a riddle to guess if you can!
Two in front, two beside,
Two connect right behind.
Snakes that wrap around real tight:
Two without a viper bite.
So gentle and loving,
Amazing and sublime;
Snakes of antiquity:
Benevolent and kind.
Venom of an odd, odd type;
Difficult, even, to describe.
As if one’s heart was jumping inside,
After saying, “hello” or bidding, “goodbye.”
My lucky number 13 (no, I’m not superstitious)! Anyways! Creating riddles is a lot tougher than you might think. The more I wrote, the more I find this to be true. Finding an object or subject that inspires you to write a riddle about it is usually the hardest part. I found another one here and I’m hoping it isn’t redundant (I just can’t remember if I’ve written about it before). Well, here it goes!
An oak and a willow were planted close together.
Each sprouted and grew in the heat of summer.
The oak stood taller, the willow rooted deeper;
Both were content while they were next together.
Then came the storm with all its windy weather,
Pushing the two trees, bending them further.
The oak cried out as his trunk began to splinter,
But the willow held the oak without any faulter.
The two can still be seen just about anywhere.
Even in trying times, they stand without a waver.
If I am the oak, then who are you, there?
Don’t think too hard, it’s not all that clever.