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Riddles

vexx32

By vexx32
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specs

specs

Posted
Posted

I am that which walks along straight, flimsy roads

On a single miniscule leg and foot, which bodes

Of things that once were and now are dust;

Ones that lived long ago, in the distant past.

Each step I take leaves a scrape upon the road,

Even when I am old and sorely down-trod.

Each scrape is a stain along mine long and lonely trail,

Each scrape once set is fixed upon my road so frail.

I live my life guided only the powers that be;

Ignorant of my dreams, they simply use me,

From now 'til forever; my siblings and I are born,

We live, and then we die, cast aside with scorn.

Up our sleeves is naught but night and shadows,

With which we leave our marks upon the snows.

What am I?

Whoa... Now that's painfully abstract.

Are you a piston?

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dnulho

dnulho

Posted
Posted (edited)

I am that which walks along straight, flimsy roads

On a single miniscule leg and foot, which bodes

Of things that once were and now are dust;

Ones that lived long ago, in the distant past.

Each step I take leaves a scrape upon the road,

Even when I am old and sorely down-trod.

Each scrape is a stain along mine long and lonely trail,

Each scrape once set is fixed upon my road so frail.

I live my life guided only the powers that be;

Ignorant of my dreams, they simply use me,

From now 'til forever; my siblings and I are born,

We live, and then we die, cast aside with scorn.

Up our sleeves is naught but night and shadows,

With which we leave our marks upon the snows.

A sewing machine, something that sews on fabric (serger, embroidery, etc), or a stitch

Edited by vexx32
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dnulho

dnulho

Posted
Posted

Why am I getting the picture of a zombie when I read your poem?

I am that which walks along straight, flimsy roads -- Abandoned roads, building flimsy and falling apart.

On a single miniscule leg and foot, which bodes -- The other leg and foot is gone, removed long ago, perhaps when I was infected.

Of things that once were and now are dust; -- Everything is in ruin.

Ones that lived long ago, in the distant past. -- I once was living, but now I am undead.

Each step I take leaves a scrape upon the road, -- My steps leave scrapes, because I have to drag myself along the ground.

Even when I am old and sorely down-trod. -- Already old and falling apart.

Each scrape is a stain along mine long and lonely trail,-- Leaving a trail of gore, stains and carnage.

Each scrape once set is fixed upon my road so frail. -- History cannot be changed.

I live my life guided only the powers that be; -- The powers that be are the instincts within me.

Ignorant of my dreams, they simply use me, -- My old life is gone, I am now a zombie, always hungry, never satisfied.

From now 'til forever; my siblings and I are born, -- Zombies live forever. (Unless they are killed)

We live, and then we die, cast aside with scorn. -- Scorned by those who kill us.

Up our sleeves is naught but night and shadows, -- This is where we live, we have nothing to hide from others.

With which we leave our marks upon the snows. -- referring back to the beginning, leaving a trail of "stains" behind.

The answer is Zombies :P

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vexx32

vexx32

Posted
  • Author
Posted
Why am I getting the picture of a zombie when I read your poem?

I am that which walks along straight, flimsy roads -- Abandoned roads, building flimsy and falling apart.

On a single miniscule leg and foot, which bodes -- The other leg and foot is gone, removed long ago, perhaps when I was infected.

Of things that once were and now are dust; -- Everything is in ruin.

Ones that lived long ago, in the distant past. -- I once was living, but now I am undead.

Each step I take leaves a scrape upon the road, -- My steps leave scrapes, because I have to drag myself along the ground.

Even when I am old and sorely down-trod. -- Already old and falling apart.

Each scrape is a stain along mine long and lonely trail,-- Leaving a trail of gore, stains and carnage.

Each scrape once set is fixed upon my road so frail. -- History cannot be changed.

I live my life guided only the powers that be; -- The powers that be are the instincts within me.

Ignorant of my dreams, they simply use me, -- My old life is gone, I am now a zombie, always hungry, never satisfied.

From now 'til forever; my siblings and I are born, -- Zombies live forever. (Unless they are killed)

We live, and then we die, cast aside with scorn. -- Scorned by those who kill us.

Up our sleeves is naught but night and shadows, -- This is where we live, we have nothing to hide from others.

With which we leave our marks upon the snows. -- referring back to the beginning, leaving a trail of "stains" behind.

The answer is Zombies :P

Nope, nope. Not all zombies are one-legged, so it doesn't qualify.
Its a PEN! A PEN!!! I know it!!!
I'm gonna have to give it to you. Well done. :D
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Starwhip

Starwhip

Posted
Posted (edited)

Right-oh, it's my turn. *cracks knuckles*

Give me a while, I've got one coming.

Alright, here we go. A proper one this time...

I am He who walks the bright scarlet roads,

pushing, shoving,

carrying the loads.

My fair-skinned brother,

who devours all "others",

recognizes me as at home.

Never resting,

always moving,

and not the same path every time.

It is I who brings life,

through toil and strife...

Can you solve my riddle in rhyme?

I'ma bringin' my A-game zis time...

Edited by Starwhip
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vexx32

vexx32

Posted
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Posted

Hey, now, play nice.

After all, it's practically a topic for debate as to what exactly constitutes a riddle. If I had to put my foot down, I'd say that it should have at best only one answer, and should be deducible in some manner (be it linguistically, logically, mathematically, whatever) from clues given in the riddle. That's kinda the point of them, after all.

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cziken20

cziken20

Posted
Posted

Hummm..........

(after 5 years)

I had a scientifical question, but it would be too hard or too easy, if somebody is physicist...

(another 5 years)

Crap! I think i have to sleep, and then i will think of something. Actually, i can make a very good riddle, but i can't think of a nice object it would describe!

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vexx32

vexx32

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Posted

(I had this idea, and it may kill you to follow my train of thought. You asked for it. It's a little different to my usual. Now I'll sleep, and see how you fared on the morrow.)

I'm born, and I let go. Tick.

My brother is born, and lets go. Tock.

Endlessly repeating.

Our mother is giving us life,

Dying so very slowly...

Everything that has a beginning

Must also have an end...

We are not the end;

Our end is merely a beginning.

Our death-knells always seem

To come in pairs of sound,

Beginning, and also end;

A brother must finish

What the first did begin.

Who am I?

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