Scroll down and read the comments section to enjoy all of the submissions.
What has no subject one can tell,
Yet tries to make it ring a bell?
What makes you scratch your head and think,
“How does this blather even link?”
RULES: Write a rhyming riddle of any length and paste it in the comments section below with your name and area of residence, such as “John Smith, Colorado, USA.” Do not include the answer. Let people guess and then respond with the answer at your discretion. Two submissions per contestant. No submission fee. See our Riddles Section for inspiration. Nothing dirty, please.
DEADLINE: July 31 midnight EST. Winners announced August 13.
PRIZE: $100
JUDGE: Advisory Board members will judge (those who choose not to participate in judging may participate in the contest)
Yes, Rohini! You got it!
I’ve never been exactly sure
How long I’ve been on this old earth;
It sometimes seems it’s not much less
Than Man himself has held tenure.
I’ve took on many forms since birth
To keep abreast with Man’s progress:
And took on many colours since
My nascent hue of bluey-black.
I started life in feathers, which
Necessitated many stints
In pots and wells (both with a lack
Of water). I then made the switch
To fountains (which also contained
No water). Since those days, my role
Has changed to stay by Man employed;
In recent times he’s even trained
Me to work with jets. And a whole
New role began when redeployed
By Man (lest he makes a blunder)
To render me invisible!
I still retain my centuries-old
Propensity to get under
Man’s skin . . and it is risible
The cash he’ll pay for this, I’m told.
I’d like to think I’m here to stay,
But Man’s existence seems to be
Under threat. Well, if that’s the case,
I wonder if there’ll come a day
When Monkeys learn to work with me . .
I could outlive the Human-Race!
Monty
Provence (France)
Pen?
Pen or ink?
Well played, Ram . . it is ink.
There were clues aplenty:
‘feathers’ (quills, before pens)
ink ‘wells’
ink ‘pots’
‘fountain’ pens
ink ‘jets’
‘invisible’ ink
‘under Man’s skin’ (tatoos)
Thank you Monty, Yes the poem was peppered with enough clues.. but what I really liked was that they were carefully woven into the narrative!
Oil/petroleum
The Riddle That Unites Us
By Lawal Jimoh, LJ, L27
Like rain to land, bow to arrows;
reflection, gives the sight in rows,
appreciates colours you and I.
What waves the sky the spectral hi?
–Lawal Jimoh Ishola, “The Riddle That Unites Us”
Lawal Jimoh, Lagos, NG
Rainbow?
Yes! Like RAIN to Land, BOW to Arrows…
You are “Landarrows”. Perfectly beautiful.
I think I have gotten you for Physics.
You may check the link below my first quote bears awesome you: https://smartbankquotes.blogspot.com
Riddle Royal
By Lawal Jimoh, LJ, L27
Outside: Still Reigning door, I knock.
Inside: My answer pulls some tasks.
Outside: Your question Winds or asks,
Inside: Whose watch is Gin O’Clock?
–Lawal Jimoh Ishola, “Riddle Royal”
Lawal Jimoh, Lagos, Nigeria
T.D.Z., New Jersey
A creature, I, trained to keep,
The time. I fly to make you weep,
To cover you with mountain deep.
A shell I bear, or two, or three,
And since we’re counting, let me see…,
Forever counting won’t count me!
T.D.Z.
New Jersey
Who is the Lonely Heart?
I caught a lonely heart one summer night,
As he lit up for the lady in the wings,
Beguiled,I admit, by his phosphorescent light,
I succumbed to my weakness for hexapodal things.
I trapped him, though tenderly, a prize in my glass,
And demanded that his love-light flash for me,
Alas, he demurred, his beloved in the grass,
Alone could summon such technology.
Sighing, I tipped the solemn fellow out,
“Free at last!”, did he exclaim and fly away,
Directly, post haste, to the beacon of his heart
Without bidding me adieu with courtesy?
Nay, he beamed kindly in my direction,
Lest I feel keenly the sting of rejection.
A firefly
Yes, that’s right! Thank you for reading my riddle. Yours looks much harder.
What are you?
Blue or brown or green or grey
Are you a flower?
Yea and nay!
You do not teach
You do not preach
Yet, if I’m right
You control the light
Found on every creature’s face
Especially the human race
But, as a flower this is true
Most often, you’ll be wearing blue
Iris (the colored part of the eye)?
Correct!
Name the Snake and the Country
By John Kolyav, Kottayam, India
Into three parts cut a snake
And the end pieces you take
Invert the head, stick to the tail
And get a country’s name-don’t fail!
Anaconda = Canada?
Yes! Perfect! Thank you very much dear Terence Marin. I was unable to check emails or website for a few days. Extremely sorry for the delay in responding.
Who am I?
John Kolyav, Kottayam, India
I can change my color so oft
And my body is very soft
I have jet but not a rocket
Ink I use though not a poet
I have many buttons but no shirt
And forcefully water I can squirt
A squid?
You are right, dear Charlie Bauer! Thank you. I meant octopus, however.
Bernnard Austin, Lagos , Nigeria
I loudly swear and I curse
Did I leave them in my purse?
Are they behind the sofa, under the bed?
Oh there they are – on my head!
Your spectacles
Man’s New Best Friend
A man’s best friend has ceased to be a dog;
When women wear it men’s minds start to fog.
I tried but couldn’t. Is it mirror?
Good guess John! It’s not a mirror; it’s worn, but not on the head.
Start with plants from the marshes,
But sold at stores in batches
Used in Thanksgiving choices—
Yams and jello cause comas—
‘Round fire on a branch blazes.
Crackers, candy, who wants s’more?
I’ll take four for lunches
Marshmallow
Got it in one! I’ve been surprised at how many people were thrown off by the first line.
When used as I should, I hammer the ground;
I’m hanged upside down if ever I’m found.
What am I?
RIDDLE#1
As the winters come to pass
I ride, ride fast,
often too fast to stop and think
how the past has passsed in an eye’s blink.
When the fruits ripen in May
and the sun dries the clay
and the trees shed their leaves
I am like a boat that far away flees.
I am a thief with a precious booty
yet I am free to gaze at beauty.
Only eternity can defy me,
not you man, you can’t defy me.
Irene Lupini, Italy
*passed
Time
yep
RIDDLE#2
Peacock feathers’ beauty is eclipsed
roses’ fragrant smell is not as sweet
the nightingale’s songs are, if compared, discrete.
Isn’t she who our soul has often kissed?
A sharp sight and a keen mind
will, aye, unveil the mystery enshrined.
Irene Lupini, Italy
1
More vigorously flies what
as the winds increase a lot.
But then goes not any further
despite the displayed vigor?
2
Some folks lose it quite often;
before you can count to ten.
And it cannot ever be found
Despite all the din and sound.
1 sail and, 2 temper?
Generations: An Interactive Riddle
(Who are “you” and “I”?)
Your Great-Gran’ was a prisoner and spent
Both day and night bound by a (double) chain.
Flies on the wall would swear he never went
Anywhere. But he didn’t need a plane
To fly me to the farthest continent,
Nor liberty to lead me down the lane.
Your Gran’ (a wizard too) would, in the car,
Lose all his magic powers, so I’d walk
Around with him indoors. His repertoire
Of words was not his own. That didn’t shock
A single soul, though: Whose words ever are?
And flies on walls would swear he loved to talk.
Unchained but bound together, you and I
Now take each other anywhere we care
To go (and any way: We even fly
On aeroplanes as one). With ample air
There’s ample magic, too, for those who buy.
Lately, though, it seems that everywhere
We go together (even in the sky),
Neither one of us is really there.
Envoi
If searching souls should find this riddle and
not print it out, nor read it on a screen
that’s wider than a palm (as I have planned
for most), here’s one more hint to what I mean:
As eyes peruse the problem now in hand,
“I’s” also hold the answer, in between.
(If even still souls do not understand:
Solutions might be felt as well as seen.)
Your cell/ Mobile phone
Sounds right when you try this out with all the clues in the riddle–especially if you happen to be reading the text of the riddle in such a device! Thanks for checking in, Rhini Sunderam.
–jbn
Communication and understanding?
Wow, it’s about Him!
He is a friend and foe
that we all somehow know…
He pre-dates our air, water and land
yet at our feet He will lay His Sand…
He has hands and yet never claps,
He is awake and never naps…
the answer He will tell as He never lies
for He is the true father that never dies,
people have tried to have Him freeze, waste and burn,
He was the subject of the song “turn, turn, turn”…
if you can ID this fair man please make haste and drop a dime,
also know that this great equalizer’s name must rhyme with rhyme.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 1986-2018. Alan Salé
PoetryByAlan.com
Time!
Wow, it’s about Him!
He’s a friend and a foe
that we all somehow know…
He pre-dates our air, water and land
yet at our feet He will lay His Sand…
He has hands and yet never claps,
He’s awake and never naps…
the answer He will tell as He never lies
for He is the true father that never dies,
people have tried to have Him freeze, waste and burn,
He was the subject of the song “turn, turn, turn”…
if you can ID this fair man please make haste and drop a dime,
also know that this great equalizer’s name must rhyme with rhyme.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 1986-2018. Alan Salé
PoetryByAlan.com
Who has Awaken the Children?
It was one silent night
without even a peep,
the kids had said ‘goodnight,’
asked lord their souls to keep,
for to God they would always kneel down and confide
finding after their prayers their loud echoes had died
then being tucked in
and then sleeping tight
and then all evening
avoiding the bite.
Then suddenly came
the rain,
striking in awe,
the yawning
awning.
Drowning droplets,
in pain,
irritated
and now irrigated.
He took them by surprise
when he opened the door;
while over them he stood
as he started to pour.
And after all of his tears
had fallen and dried…
the cries vanquished the fears
of the torment inside.
Now with lightened souls
and redefined roles
from a calm so deep…
all the children
laid buried, in sleep.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 1986-2018. Alan Salé
PoetryByAlan.com
My guess too is time