Shakeepuddn
-
Posts
1885 -
Joined
-
Last visited
-
Days Won
13
Content Type
Profiles
Forums
Events
Gallery
Blogs
Everything posted by Shakeepuddn
-
Oooooo! Me Likey!!!
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Actually I was thinking of naming it that.
-
Edit The pressures on, the news is hot, The message comes, it doesn’t stop. ‘Cross bridge and ‘long a watercourse The rider comes on airy horse. A savage signal thumps a beat That soon the message you will get! So Sooty Smith plies his trade. See cowboy mount! It’s on its way!
-
No to all. Recommend a keyword analysis. This one is way out there, though the answer is mundane.
-
No
-
Nice riddle
-
-
-
You answer is incorrect, though well thought out and presented. Please read my previous post regarding metaphor. Thanks
-
Ladies and Gents, please note the quotes around the last word. This is a tricky riddle and almost everything in it is a metaphor. Good luck.
-
The pressures on, the news is hot, The message comes, it doesn’t stop. ‘Cross bridge and ‘long the watercourse The rider comes on airy horse. Savage signals warn in beat That soon the maker they will meet! So Sooty Smith plies his trade. See the cowboy mount! It’s on its way! Name the “town.”
-
Cheers to the Wiz, who aced the "pop" quiz!
-
Keyword help. Worms from our heads to our toes, “Get them out!” we long to shout. And we’ve sure been around for awhile— Just check out our throats! See how we choke? Hindering spry spirit and old, We stop all the fun (though it only takes one). We’re so bored with the carousal punch, Now leave us alone, our work here is done! We're just wishing that we could go fishing, (and we’ll show you the fish hot on the dish!)
-
-
ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!! Well done Wiz. I suspected it would fall quickly but I couldn't stop myself. I started it and then got so into key aspects of the tale I had to keep going. It took about an hour (though with a few minor edits through the afternoon.) Bravo!
-
No one yet. hehe! Harangue, I truly admire your tenacity. You are wise to focus on the "spry spirit and old line." You are on right track with the bore line of thought.
-
A waif plucked from death, by miracle born Innocent of worldly way, His cradle so cold and wanting of soul, Just a prison bereft of stays. Delivered amid a thundering storm, Then left! Abandoned! Shunned! Forlorn! The craven father just wouldn’t be bothered— And so hurriedly scurried away. His tutelage brief, surreptitious and free, A school of one-room for the youth. Letters he lacked were received through a crack With love for both teacher and truth. The servile student by one wasn’t seen, While others grew cruel and forced him to flee. When shot from behind for a deed that was kind, Disdain grew wanton, uncouth. But look at him now with high, broad brow! Appraise his wondrous image! Women who care at this marvel to stare Would swoon upon glimpsing his visage. Muscular form and sculpted features, Such an incredibly stunning creature! In truth it seems he’s a young woman’s dream, A lost love in a nightly missive. He presently broods over far distant sea, Of his choosing pursued in the game, Mourning the death of what kin he had left And his own of the immolate flame. Now odd to this riddle from ends unto middle Seeking name seems certainly little, But nameless the one in this poem now done, A god’s gift modernity’s stain.
-
The worm is gnawing at you I see. I suggest a thorough search on the possible meanings of a worm. Good luck.
