Newsgroups: rec.puzzles Path: nntp-server.caltech.edu!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!questrel!chris From: chris@questrel.com (Chris Cole) Subject: Re: Riddles Message-ID: <1993Jun6.045819.5191@questrel.com> Organization: Questrel, Inc. References: <1uq7j2$ftm@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Date: Sun, 6 Jun 1993 04:58:19 GMT Lines: 374 In article <1uq7j2$ftm@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> bm127@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (T. David Gossett) writes: > >I am looking for a good source of riddles. If you know of an >ftp site or have a good collection yourself, could you please >email me. thanks in advance... This question is in the rec.puzzles Archive: ******** logic/riddle.s ******** Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it can neither see nor feel it. coffin Tell me what a dozen rubber trees with thirty boughs on each might be? months of the year As I went over London Bridge I met my sister Jenny I broke her neck and drank her blood And left her standing empty gin It is said among my people that some things are improved by death. Tell me, what stinks while living, but in death, smells good? pig All right. Riddle me this: what goes through the door without pinching itself? What sits on the stove without burning itself? What sits on the table and is not ashamed? the sun What work is it that the faster you work, the longer it is before you're done, and the slower you work, the sooner you're finished? roasting meat on a spit Whilst I was engaged in sitting I spied the dead carrying the living. a ship I know a word of letters three. Add two, and fewer there will be. 'few' I give you a group of three. One is sitting down, and will never get up. The second eats as much as is given to him, yet is always hungry. The third goes away and never returns. stove, fire, and smoke Whoever makes it, tells it not. Whoever takes it, knows it not. And whoever knows it wants it not. counterfeit money Two words, my answer is only two words. To keep me, you must give me. your word Sir, I bear a rhyme excelling In mystic force and magic spelling Celestial sprites elucidate All my own striving can't relate pi There is not wind enough to twirl That one red leaf, nearest of its clan, Which dances as often as dance it can. the sun, Samuel Taylor Coleridge Half-way up the hill, I see thee at last Lying beneath me with thy sounds and sights -- A city in the twilight, dim and vast, With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights. the past, Longfellow I am, in truth, a yellow fork From tables in the sky By inadvertent fingers dropped The awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed And never quite concealed The apparatus of the dark To ignorance revealed. lightning, Emily Dickinson Many-maned scud-thumper, Maker of worn wood, Shrub-ruster, Sky-mocker, Rave! Portly pusher, Wind-slave. the ocean, John Updike Make me thy lyre, even as the forests are. What if my leaves fell like its own -- The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep autumnal tone. the west wind, Percy Bysshe Shelley This darksome burn, horseback brown, His rollock highroad roaring down, In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam Flutes and low to the body falls home. river, Gerard Manley Hopkins I've measured it from side to side, 'Tis three feet long and two feet wide. It is of compass small, and bare To thirsty suns and parching air. the grave of a child, Wordsworth My love, when I gaze on thy beautiful face, Careering along, yet always in place -- The thought has often come into my mind If I ever shall see thy glorious behind. the moon, Sir Edmund Gosse Then all thy feculent majesty recalls The nauseous mustiness of forsaken bowers, The leprous nudity of deserted halls -- The positive nastiness of sullied flowers. And I mark the colours, yellow and black, That fresco thy lithe, dictatorial thighs. spider, Francis Saltus Saltus When young, I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged, I make you gay. When old, I am valued more than ever. wine I am always hungry, I must always be fed, The finger I lick Will soon turn red. fire All about, but cannot be seen, Can be captured, cannot be held, No throat, but can be heard. wind I am only useful When I am full, Yet I am always Full of holes. sieve (or sponge) If you break me I do not stop working, If you touch me I may be snared, If you lose me Nothing will matter. heart If a man carried my burden He would break his back. I am not rich, But leave silver in my track. snail Until I am measured I am not known, Yet how you miss me When I have flown. time I drive men mad For love of me, Easily beaten, Never free. gold When set loose I fly away, Never so cursed As when I go astray. fart I go around in circles But always straight ahead, Never complain No matter where I am led. wagon wheel Lighter than what I am made of, More of me is hidden Than is seen. iceberg I turn around once, What is out will not get in. I turn around again, What is in will not get out. stopcock Each morning I appear To lie at your feet, All day I will follow No matter how fast you run, Yet I nearly perish In the midday sun. shadow Weight in my belly, Trees on my back, Nails in my ribs, Feet I do lack. ship Bright as diamonds, Loud as thunder, Never still, A thing of wonder. waterfall? (fireworks?) My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick Fat, I am slow Wind is my foe. candle To unravel me You need a simple key, No key that was made By locksmith's hand, But a key that only I Will understand. cipher I am seen in the water If seen in the sky, I am in the rainbow, A jay's feather, And lapis lazuli. blue Glittering points That downward thrust, Sparkling spears That never rust. icicle You heard me before, Yet you hear me again, Then I die, 'Till you call me again. echo Three lives have I. Gentle enough to soothe the skin, Light enough to caress the sky, Hard enough to crack rocks. water You can see nothing else When you look in my face, I will look you in the eye And I will never lie. your reflection Lovely and round, I shine with pale light, grown in the darkness, A lady's delight. pearl At the sound of me, men may dream Or stamp their feet At the sound of me, women may laugh Or sometimes weep music When I am filled I can point the way, When I am empty Nothing moves me, I have two skins One without and one within. sails? My tines be long, My tines be short My tines end ere My first report. What am I? lightning ****************************** To request a copy of the index to the Archive, send a letter to archive-request@questrel.com containing the line: send index The index will be mailed via return email to the address in your request's "From:" line. 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