Best Riddle Poems
The Devils Riddle
Dark is the night
Dark is the soul
Dark is the heart that used to glow
Empty are the rainbows falling from the skies
Empty of the spirits when the darkness flies by
Empty is the treasure chest of dreams long gone
Tombs hold secrets of mysteries past
Tombs hold the dark to ensure it will endure
Tombs full of treasures are barren at last
Stones are grey in silence they sit
Stones are markers of the dark run amiss
Stones look up to overcast skies
death looks down, the final curtain call
smirks and winks, I will soon have you all
dark and empty you shall soon be enslaved
to the mysteries of dark empty ways
there is no final place that you shall rest
emoH the angel of death has declared
“oN graves the trumpets play as I shall sing”
Let me own the Night
Let the others play on bright sun-filled days,
in song and merriment, play on.
Let me own the shadows that seep into your soul,
yet still promise hold, a promise of sleep 'til dawn.
With the morning pray.., bring them on gilded and gossamer wings,
for bright is their future with warmth of everlasting hope, and hearts lifted.
I long to be as cold and silent as a blanket of new fallen snow,
to spin webs, translucent, with life ebbing and borne of tragic past.
When, at last, clouds part and ominous foreboding dread flees,
into the corners, hiding..sinless, without remorse or regret.
Let me own this cloak, beautiful as rough-hewn stone,
I no longer seek acceptance, nor call another's fate my own.
May Calliope sing and lull them to a blissful place, redemption their's to keep,
for it was always said that it must be so.
I will continue to turn away from the calamity of the sun,
for what's left unsaid remains unsaid, what's left undone, undone.
No tears will be shed that will be seen where shadows lie,
the dark will hold them, it would seem, and so shall I.
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
Is it a myth that History repeats?
This universal question that time deletes
Is the evidence clear that it occurs?
Through eons and eons it strangely recurs
Is it true that horrors are dulled by time?
This forever, unchanging paradigm
If wars are to end should it start with me?
To account for mankind’s insanity.
August 31st ‘22
For Dot Your I's and Cross Your T's Contest
by Hilo Poet
howmanysyllables =10
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
_______________________________________________
Goethe Stanza
Who are the less fortunate?
What are their names?
Are they the crippled,
the blind, the lame?
Is a man in a wheelchair
lesser than I?
His heart may hold treasures
that no one can buy
Does a girl without speech
have nothing to say?
Is a boy without toys
unable to play?
Do eyes without sight
shed any less tears?
Does a man who is rich
get any more years?
Just who are the needy,
downtrodden and poor?
Can we tell by appearance
or something much more?
Is a person's value
measured in zeroes,
or can even beggars
sometimes be heroes?
And just what is richness?
How is it defined?
By bank account numbers
or diamonds mined?
Is poverty simply
the opposite end
of having a home
and money to spend?
I have known people
of very great wealth
yet broken in spirit
and so ill of health
And I have known others
with nothing of worth
yet so full of gladness
and given to mirth
Richness in money
can buy many things
but a heart full of joy
comes without strings
We would do well
with our lives to take stock
though many would find
they're in for a shock
For all of my wealth
am I truly free?
Is it everything
it was cracked up to be?
And then came the thought
which couldn't be clearer
Perhaps one less fortunate
is in my own mirror
The sun awakes each early morn
Bright sky glows its colors adorn
Nothing but jeans tattered and torn
Miracle of life a child is born
How come I wonder
Fly in formation at high noon
Birds band together sing a tune
Scent of lilac come early June
Summer breezes come none too soon
How come I wonder
Sun sets without saying goodbye
Sweet aroma of apple pie
A comet flies across the sky
A full moon hangs still way up high
How come I wonder
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.3~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on February 19, 2020 for contest STRAND SELECT V sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Posted on January 23, 2020
HEY DIDDLE, why the Cat and the fiddle
And the Cow that jumped over the moon?
Why they're all here in Nursery Rhyme land
At the wedding of the Dish and the Spoon.
The Little Dog is happy,The Cat is playing a tune
And soon the Dish and the Spoon will go hand in hand
Off on their honeymoon.
The guests include OLD KING COLE
And HUMPTY DUMPTY who sat on a wall
Though he's being very careful today-
Doesn't want to spoil things by having a fall.
MARY MARY QUITE CONTRARY
Has left her garden behind
And come along with LITTLE BO-PEEP
With all her sheep to mind.
SIMPLE SIMON has come with the Pieman
Because they're preparing the food.
And LITTLE JACK HORNER wont sit in the corner
Thinks it might be rather rude.
JACK SPRAT AND HIS WIFE have come for the feasting .
So has THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE,
And OLD MOTHER HUBBARD hopes something left for the cupboard
And her poor dog who's at home with the flu.
WEE WILLIE WINKIE has changed out of his nightshirt
And dressed up in his sunday best,
But he'll have to leave early to check on the children
To make sure that they're all at rest.
LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER wont need to sing for his supper.
GEORGIE PORGIE said he wont make anyone cry.
And JACK AND JILL have brought some lemonade in their bucket
In case some of the guests get dry.
DOCTOR FOSTER returned from Gloucester-
Says he hopes it doesn't rain
But he's brought his umbrella just in case
Doesn't want to get caught out again!
THE CROOKED MAN although he's bent double
Said he's determined to dance,
His partner is BETTY BLUE who lost her shoe
Then happened to find it by chance-
Well these are just some of the wedding guests
Travelled from far and wide
That have come along to celebrate with
The proud groom and his dish of a bride....
So now you know what's going on
With the Cat and the fiddle and the COW that jumped over the moon.
And why the Little Dog laughed to see such fun
All because the Dish fell in love with the SPOON.
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.
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.......
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
We know knitters knit wool from skeins,
and when wet, us the wearer complains,
for our pullovers shrink,
and so this made me think,
why don't sheep ever shrink when it rains?
The Curse of the Dead Sea
Dark ghosts traveling through the chilled air mist
where rare rough rivers, eddied and revolved, in
twists around into a violent, furious funnel offshore,
as this turbulent salt sea of iniquity opens up its storied,
salted bowels with its turgid moving fluids drowning
into a space of predestined bedded death—for all who
unknowingly venture into the embrace of the Dead Sea.
For knoweth that Poseidon, the ancient god of the sea,
may not be there in time to spare thy life that be in the
fatal grip of this salted deadly destiny, and its jeopardy,
as it’s written in the “riddle of sands” that remain blowing
as this earthly desert speaks to thee, spiced by the coldest
of raindrops carried on winds held deep within, as dark
clouds escape with their droplets running down into the
mountain “waters of life” that feed and form an evil river
that pulsates through the deep veins of existence, as drums
inside heartbeats play to a harmonious harp filled with a
mystic music dancing to visions of a salted angel who lives
deep within the Dead Sea.
Falling throughout the depths of time in the history of this
ancient sea of sure death, are grains of sand and pure white
salt which hold misted gems that speak to each and every
human footprint, leaving an imprinted, indelible image true,
behind the frame left crowned in the deep well of a forlorn,
shimmering pond that presciently knoweth that this ancient
Dead Sea, with its “salt of the sand” shall explain to you,
in kind, of the dangers that lurketh within the waters of its
salted, deadly grip, if thou chooseth unwisely to venture in
knowingly or unknowingly.
For Poseidon shall not be there in this “modern age” to
saveth thee and thy immortal soul!
Amen.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – December 16, 2018
(Narrative)
"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
Tell me the poet
Who comes from Malta,
Whose name is apostolic,
Who authored "The Composer",
And the "Unspoken Words".
Tell me the poet
Who is not callous,
Who is not Carl Lewis,
Whose name sounds like both.
My poet is an Adam,
My poet an Homer,
My poet is a Plato,
My poet is a rabbi,
Who is my poet?