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MIDDLE AGE RIDDLE
by Rodrigues, Kim
Nightmares and Master Poe's Greatest Riddle
by Lindley, Robert
by Simons, Brendan J.
RIDDLE OF LIFE
by CHAKRABARTY, RAJAT KANTI
A riddle - Until it is not
by Brooks, Peter
Riddle Me Out Number 5
by Crasta, Venetia
Riddle Me Out Number 4
by Crasta, Venetia
Riddle me Out Number 3
by Crasta, Venetia
Riddle Me Out Number 2
by Crasta, Venetia
Riddle Me Out Number 1
by Crasta, Venetia
View all new Riddle Poems
The Best Riddle Poems
What might you find there
down deep in my soul
Within the darkness
of that expansive hole
Will there be substance
Will there be diamonds or coal
Step down the stairs quickly
at the door pay your toll
If you wish to be a voyeur
there will be plenty to see
Unclothed and oh so gorgeous
beautiful women are plenty
Yet the guilt from these carnal thoughts
makes me feel a strange empty
I long for their pleasure
yet I yearn to be set free
Walk a bit further
see deeper to my core
You have just scratched the surface
do you really want to see more
My soul is a vast ocean
no ceiling and no floor
Liquid and expansive
molton lava shore to shore
There is plenty of love there
tremendous courage it's true
I have known my share of pain
there is much that I've been through
Roads I've traveled are many
dark alleys quite a few
I've found the way to the light
my heart is forged a steel blue
If you travel far enough
you will bathe within light
The darkness a shield
to protect this soul with might
Beyond the locked door
my soul rises like a kite
Only those who have courage
can fly to such great height!
For Frank's Contest
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
I can’t be branded and put into a box
I’m a rhyme wrapped within a riddle a complete paradox
I won't carry the labels, or walk around with the stigma.
I am the great unknown a total enigma
I am an incomplete masterpiece, a beautiful disaster
I am the once upon a time and the happily ever after
I am realism, embedded within a parody
I am hesitation and doubt, clothed in certainty.
I am cause and effect, the inevitable reaction
I am the unattainable that brings complete satisfaction
I am an open book, and still a complete mystery.
I am a façade, covered in authenticity
I am assurance and conviction, facts draped in fiction
I am chaotic peace and silent confliction
I am the writing on the wall that you try to decode
I am a living saga, great legends untold
I am a conundrum, a million scattered puzzle pieces
I am the hypothesis that obliterates your thesis
Copyright © ChiquitaChiamaka Baity | Year Posted 2011
I once stepped into a labyrinth, that grew upon the crest
The unraveled trail through silver pines, where ferns and grasses wept,
Where birdsongs rose, from scattered boughs, and echoed to the west
Moss grew to warm each foot with jade, while solemn trees had slept
I remember how the stately timbers, had leaned against the sky
I stood knee-deep in ancient times, my heart was on a quest
to riddle through the forest's mind, into a honeycomb of sighs
Each spire grew from sod and loam, and branches fell to rest
Shards of sun, bright fingerlings, had haloed 'round my head
Sparks shaved and thinned, by silver limbs, would reach to catch the sun,
Like candles tall, along the trail, the dust burned rust and red
It bounced with light, off fragile lattice, webs, and laces, spun
Asylum blessed, so undisturbed, exquisitely serene
My famished eyes were wide with awe, but yet was not my home
Beneath each leaf, beneath each limb, were tiny worlds unseen
With cushioned steps, I walked with care, for this was sacred loam
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Your love is real
the love you feel.
Your love is great
the love you make.
Your records are on fire
its your desire.
Take me out tonight
and go wild and crazy,
or be fat and lazy.
So I played some Doors
and saw some whores.
So I said goodbye
and they all must die, fool.
So dig my guts
and eat my brain
and then go insane.
Care I love it
so forget it, Punk!
Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2015
If you should search for knowledge
To answer the riddle of your self
All the books found on every library shelf
Might not relieve your puzzle a smidge
Because ‘h’ is the difference of self from shelf
Search within and you’ll see without eyes.
Things happen in a test tube
That we can easily observe and explain
But anywhere outside of it
It’s not quite the same
That’s because it’s out in the open
Where there’s less control and closure.
Some advise taking only two steps
Once into and once out of water
Supposedly while you’re watching
Perpendicular to a flowing stream
So firstly you get your feet wet
And then you get them dry.
Or you take the opposite length
Over the adjacent length
Then every measured distance
Makes each tangent different
But if trigonometry was used at Pisa
That’s not why the place is famous.
So if a princess was in a tower
And let’s assume she was a prisoner
At least she should have a window
Because horizons offer a fine view
Then the next time the witch calls her
Rupunzel throws down her chair.
Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013
My beginnings were ever so humble
To this day I wear others' rags
I'm bungled, fumbled and tumbled
My owner usually brags
Diamonds all shapes and sizes
Multicolored rainbows and rings
Always loved and needled
And thrown on kings and queens
You can buy me at a boutique
If I'm given I'm normally at my peak
In the summer I go on the lam
Please tell me what I am.
challenge from Linda (Poet Destroyer)
anyone can answer please,feel free
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
How strangely life will turn around, reverse, then come again
I remember how he would tiptoe in, from a warm and downy bed
He’d wink at me, then beckon me, while twinkling stars peeked in
In kitchen light, a bite to eat, a midnight snack, he said
I would pour the milk, and he would smile, then carefully tear the bread
The staff of life, a simple thing, these two small bowls of wheat
My Dad and I, the broken bread, with milk on top, or cream instead
A bit of sugar or honey dripped, to make it slightly sweet
Such a little thing, so comforting, and helped us both to sleep
And in my care, his dwindling years…especially at the end
He was fading then, no appetite, few foods that he could eat
Soft bread I’d make, with milk poured in, would help us think of then
I’d sit upon his bed and talk, and help him spoon some in
The things in life turn inside out, somehow come back again
For the Contest: Sponsored By Regina Riddle "Intimate Relationships"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
The World Unknown to me
Let me write of things I do not know
underneath the folds of nothing
beneath a fake moon's glow
I'll write about my pretend university days
and my dope smoking ways
traveling life high
experiential artistic faze
In the company of fifty shady ladies
with long sexy legs
who thought I was amazing
screaming out my name in praise
I could write about here or there
about having balls so big
nothing would give me a scare
Others could admire me
saying "Boy he has a pair"
Yes I'd be someone
suave and debonair
a golden boy
with long flowing Fabio hair
reclining enticingly in a chair
with throngs of made up people
mesmerized as they stare
Me being aloof as if I didn't care
Or maybe I'll write about
jumping from a plane
how I only travel in the fast lane
Can you relate to the pretend things
that reside in my brain
Come travel with me on a bullet train
Run through the streets naked
in the pouring hot summer rain
This world of illusion
is mine to maintain
The fabric of thought
can take the strain
If I don't like something
I just rewrite it again
after all depending on what I make up
You might learn
I'm a smidgen away
on the precipice of insane
Cracked or cool
a pretend genius
wrapped in the skin of a fool
Words written are a powerful tool
watch the unwinding of my spool
Lessons taught by observing
the apposing things in life that duel
Come sit at the bench
Roll up sleeves pull up a stool
fable and pen are waiting
spill red ink on paper you are born to rule
this is a different kinda school
We are all teachers
ideas are the fuel!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2017
Note: This is not a poem, just a riddle :)
Pour Juliette Girardot
Si vous me donnez 1000 essaie
Si vous me donnez 1000 valses
La réponse que je donnerai
Ca sera toujours la même
J’ai besoin mais une seule essaie!
La chanson "La Valse a mille temps"
Je pense qu'il n'y a pas un poème lyrique française, ou un poème, ou sonnet dans toute la République française, que je ne sais pas!!!!
Maintenant, une énigme pour vous!
Je suis un Steak
Je suis originaire de Bretagne en France
Je suis le père de la romance
Je me suis cassé le bras à Niagara Falls au Canada
Mais je suis mort, un pauvre homme à Londres
Les paroles que je parle
Qui suis-je ?
Copyright © Etienne Lariviere | Year Posted 2015
The greatest puzzle in the world
Is one in which must be mastered;
you are the only curator by far;
not family, friends, or the pastor.
The pieces belong where you place them.
This much is oh so true;
learn the pictures through time and save the memory
or woe will come to you.
By far you have a divine purpose
and the roles being played are clues;
reach out if you must to the powers that be
and go on however you choose.
The greatest mistake will be giving up;
Be joyous and carpe-diem!
Rewrite your own history and show your worth;
let the world be the coliseum!
The puzzle comes to an end you see
not when the pieces are all in place;
but when the hours of time rest forever
on the winning of your race.
The Greatest Puzzle In the World Is.......
Copyright © sonya marshall | Year Posted 2015
Why wont you look into my eyes and confide in me?
The support offered within the boundary with limits unexplained like the teaching of
I wont be your fool.
A tool to be used, to feel sorry for you, to be broken and tired of, when I will be
A borrowed shoulder for false tears
I refuse to lose my emotions this way
You have chosen to ignore what is known to be wrong. For to long you've carried
PAIN and Blame in the name for others to use and abuse you. Leaving no error for
Must be the game.
A well kept secret conspired to hurt leaving shattered , unhealed pieces of a broken
heart in the wake of so much pain, evil could not bare.
She's a riddle never to be solved.
A problem with a surmise to answer for all questions asked.
Feelings made without love
the tears still burn, will she ever learn?
Copyright © Noble Smalls | Year Posted 2010
Let me see…
Give this one a Gothic Border,
For my mood is one
Of secret gardens,
All internal wanderings…
And this one,
Of an island
A place only
Its endless border,
A far away glow-
A sleepy little lagoon-
Flit, flutter to tell
Us dream thieves
Dream to sell…
Above a mountain-
Clouds lightly darkly speak,
Of misty rings
Where summit and base meet-
Talk of a missing middle,
The answer a
2 syllable word:
Always in a climbing riddle
No middle would be absurd.
Copyright © Joe DiMino | Year Posted 2016
As the dusk approaches, with a fusk grunt on his face,
He realizes he has to do what's right;
To save his people from the treacherous minotaur maze,
To risk his life for people in vain.
As the sail shall not be great, he decides to travel with fate.
But truly he thinks it will be wise.
As they set off with the black flags, he promises old deer king they will change
If he survives;
With a glimmering glow from the waters below he sets sail for the island.
Miles and Miles sea after sea the destination comes nearly to a stop
With gusting winds and blushing seas, they’ve made it, at last.
While being stripped of his weapons and armor,
He notices a watching, Deer old princess of the kingdom
While her eyes glimmer at him, he looks away with unsought
Enter the Maze says one of the guards,
They all embark into the cave.
The Princess had given Theseus a sword, as he will use wisely
Standing back in the darkness the children look around,
Nothing but pitch darkness around,
Instead of staying there they decide to explore
But beware of the night before.
With a sword in his hand and rope in the other
He notices a shadow in the darkness,
The children stay back while Theseus steps forward
Confronts the beast with another step forward
With heavy breathing and death on the side
It's time for the fight he thought with a sigh.
With a Shock to the head, Theseus falls back
Gets on his feet and Shocks him back, the minotaur has been wounded
With more hits after and after the minotaur falls with a cry
Tangled in pain Theseus tanks and cut the enemy
Waiting for it to fall
To cell to the floor.
As they embark the ship again,
He comes with the princess to an island,
While he leaves her there they continue off to join the journey
To off to the king with a surprise,
Unlikely they forgot to change the sails from black
To white, so the king decides to do something unright.
The king sees the black sail and knows the worst,
With a jump, he had did
To off the cliff, he had went
So many outs he had made, while Theseus came back
And heard the news
Of the fallen king
With a joust, he had did
With a celebration understood
The newly king has been awakened
But something wasn't right,
All that night he thought of his father
Sitting and pondering with gonder.
Copyright © Chandler Fisher | Year Posted 2017
"Open Your Eyes"
by: Eric L. Boddie
In my quest to find the Light
I found so many things hidden in plain sight
A simple question of why is what I asked of Christ
He Said "He Who Searches For Me Will Be Found By Him Who Denies Life
But He Is Already Defeated By The Power Of My Blood"
At that very moment, I truly understood that Love won't drag you through the mud
So many speak of Christ, The Greatest Sacrifice There Ever Was
And then they turn around and do exactly as satan does
What if a known terrorist wanted to Worship with you and yours
Would you welcome him in or intentionally close the doors
Maybe the reason they are terrorists is perhaps no one ever showed them Love
Obviously they fell to satan, but anything can be Forgiven As Long As Time Is Still Granted From Above
Why do so many need last suppers when the Word Says you never need to see His Face
Faith Is The Blindest Light That Can Brighten Any Space
We can have more than we need, but still, we want more
Have we really forgotten what an abundance is truly for
When did sharing become a crime, what if you were in need
So many have lost everything on their journeys to greed
And I really don't care what you believe, I am just telling you the Truth
But don't take my word for it, Sincerely Ask God, He Will Provide All The Needed Proof
Copyright © eric boddie | Year Posted 2018
Riddle me that
Riddle me this
A puzzle of a piece of mind
That's been unhinged
Lost, misplaced, swept up under
If someone else found it
Would they keep it I wonder?
Throw it away, or add it to a collection?
Of all these lost peices,
In a lost and found section?
Such beautiful pictures,
Together, fit perfectly made
But now just collect dust.
And someday will fade.
Colors change, mix, and blend.
Into a new picture.
How will they look in the end?
Riddle me this
Riddle me that
With each others help
We can put together, this puzzle, back.
Copyright © aunna jones | Year Posted 2017
she makes her escape
while the truth is left agape
lies get video taped
Copyright © Pixie Dust | Year Posted 2018
Great men calculate arithmetic
Greater men calculate logarithms
Greatest men calculate calculus
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2018
When I close my eyes it’s there again
A nightmare that could only offend
The dark woman stands with her hooded eyes
Draped across her face in her disguise
And she points at the word written on the stone
In blood with large letters so it be well known
I gaze across in the torchlight to make it out
As I wonder if the writing was a warning tout
But as the words became to me quite clear
I cringed back at what it said in my fear
For it said something that stabbed me in my head
“Your fight is over for you are now dead.”
© Paul Warren Poetry
Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2018
you have never stopped analyzing me
stripped me of my mystery
what do you see in me
Submitted this March, 2018
Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018
Life is a struggle
life is a pain
money is needed
to cover you from the rain
from west to east i travel
north to south i look too
no one can safe me now
only life with all its clue
riddle me this, riddle me that
life is a big riddle
so riddle on that
never count life out
or you will suffer
the only way up
is life making you tougher
pain, tears and struggle
are all part of life's plan
stand up like a solder
and take it like man
you can say this
you can say that
at the end of the day
life will still win
what do you say to that
air is what we need
to keep life going
so never stop breathing
but take it in slowly
life is an ascent
so keep it while you have it
believe in your self
and always say I MAKE IT HAPPEN! ! !
Copyright © John Tora | Year Posted 2012
Not without blood…
and water’s flood
As stained water surged…
released an old man’s urge
By stained water surge…
the urge is purged…
and new men emerge
The riddle of life reveals itself once one
learns that things pertaining to truth’s reality have
two applications; one is the beginning the other is
the end and the mystery are solved once we learn to
play both ends by grace of the middle! (Rev. 1:11KGV)
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011
End of Days
By Edmund Siejka
Pondering the value of life
He formulates a riddle
What is better than God?
Poor people have it
Rich people don’t have it
And if you eat it you will die?
The answer to his riddle is: Nothing.
He notices a pale, glowing light
Clouds reverberating with music
Chest about to explode
He is lifted above the turbulence
Faster and faster he travels
Across a gray pallid sky.
Reciting a prayer
The old words reassure him
He who never prayed before
Peering through a tiny clearing in the clouds
He is struck by the enormity of what lies below
Of what he is leaving behind
He feels himself giving way
His body changing
In shape and size
Feeling a calmness to the very end
Uncertain of what is to come
He now realizes
That his crowded little life
Is coming to an end
And the only thing he can think of
Are the stories his mother
Stories of how people always triumphed over evil
And the endings were always good.
Turning off the light
She would lean over him
Gently kissing him
On his forehead
As he lay still
Sleeping the long sleep
Of an innocent babe.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2014
The Black Stallion
On a hill overlooking a wide broken canyon
runs a beautiful wild horse, an impressive black stallion
Mile after mile, in the distance, the stallion runs
he's wild and free galloping with pure abandon
Untamed and unbridled, he proudly flaunts his energy
No one can break him, his spirit is always wild and free
Nostrils a flare he bolts to the distant horizon without care
No one approaches, whoever could, who ever would dare?
His black coat glistens in the sun, in the pale morning light
His tendons tighten and flex as he readies for his flight
He rides like the wind vanishing quickly from my sight
I wait for his appearance, he arrives shortly before twilight
He sees me approaching at daybreak, will he allow me to his side?
All I want to do is be his friend, climb on top and go for a ride
He never allows approach, in a flash he's gone, far away he roams
He's wild, proud, and free, it's true, but... spends his days alone.
John Derek Hamilton
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016
Continued from Part 1
3. TEATIME INTROSPECTION
Amongst the many are the few
who maim and kill and think it’s true
that purple war’s a parlour game
when really they’re submerged in shame
for crimes for which they are to blame
and can’t expunge with searing flame
while plodding through an endless time,
or pealing bells with holy chime,
or posing in a paradigm
where paradox and riddle rhyme.
And when they die (as die they must),
forevermore their putrid dust,
still soaked with gore and carmine lust,
will conjure thoughts of cold disgust.
And even though torrential rain
(which tastes at times like cool champagne)
can wash away the scarlet stain
which soaks the sands of god’s terrain,
it cannot ever cleanse the hands
that work the guns and burning brands,
or purge the throats that give commands
to him who never understands.
Nor can the raging hurricane
from blackened souls the white regain,
rescind the sins or void the banes
or loose the damned from Satan’s chains
who line the pits of hell’s domains.
4. EVENING REFLECTIONS
When through the day to night they pass,
their eyes avoid the looking glass
displaying dim a pale phantasm
plunging deeper down a chasm,
surging through a blood orgasm,
smiling thin unveiled sarcasm
for the chances lost to taste
the many fruits that went to waste
when each was still a joyous lad,
who went to school and learned to add
and danced in rivers, barefoot clad,
attended church with mom and dad
(which tends the poor and cheers the sad),
to pray for good and curse the bad,
before, in war insanely mad,
he fought the fight (no Galahad)
by flinging flames and slashing throats,
immersing bods in midnight moats
between the broken battered boats
where babes and booted bodies float,
and leaving bags of bones to bloat
in bullet-ridden overcoats,
and wondered if the goblins gloat
or spot (behind his eyes, the motes),
then strode away without a thought
that mortal lives had come to naught,
sedated by his conscience brought
to nothing more than dripping snot,
while Others sit upon a yacht
and pluck the eyes of fish They’ve caught,
for, when they die, fish seem to see
The Ones behind the tyranny
(with bellies round from gluttony)
in future dangling from a tree
(with leaves as black as ebony),
for that’s, They fear, Their destiny.
Continued in Part 3
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
She tells me,
Of the belt of hunger that clings to her waist,
Of how it's only ever loosened by rampaging and rummaging through waste.
She tells me,
How her journey through payments, predicaments and pavements make her tire,
How her cracked feet and wracked heart are passed by Tyre after Tyre.
She tells me,
About the intricate diagnoses and prognoses that riddle her every fiber, vessel and vein,
About the cardboard pleas and pleads that have all been in vain.
She tells me,
That this is the existence her weeping womb has bred,
That her hope for her successors is that they may succeed her in the fight for bread.
She tells me,
Her name is poverty.
Do you remember her?
Copyright © Jessica Goldstone | Year Posted 2013