Shakeepuddn
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Everything posted by Shakeepuddn
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oops. Needs an edit: By a royal loony-toon with an illegal alien’s friend: “Colleen of wordless regret, frog river rider: The sobriety-test flunkee from Babblesquat”
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By a royal loony-toon with an illegal alien’s friend: “Colleen of wordless regret: The sobriety-test flunkee from Babblesquat”
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Does the answer allow for some sort of tool to be used in splitting? Or is it just the bags and body parts?
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Well done gentlemen. Compost it is! LOL! I know these are a bit skate . . . I make them up for my ten year old ESL students (minus the "pot" like references of course : ) and stick 'em on here for anyone's amusement. Cheers
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Whatever my name, it matters not, I am who I am, I live and I rot. I have no love but love is my name. Giving is living, forgiveness my game, I don’t like drugs, but I will do pot, Loving is good, clinging is not. For a gentle embrace I live and I die, Caress me too much and blood is nigh. Put me in bowl and show me on high, All will cheer, and many cry. Women adore me; men restore me. I illicit a sigh . . . now what am I?
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I apologize for not making it clearer. Each line save the last 3 (just for rhyme and style) give clues that point to the general answer. They are aspects of it. "What's my I" is just another way of saying what am I? The answer(s) have nothing to do with the letter "I"
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Villainous super hero in a looney tune box. Lord maker, god breaker, key to the locks. I have a warrior lover in the attic mountain. One against another to another then again. I’m the logical same of a question mark. The flick of a light in the upstairs dark. I’m the un-corked fly, I just won’t die, I’m oh so high, So try My I
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Correct sir knight.
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nice guess but no.
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Ten little trees stand in a row None are from seeds, in darkness they grow. Ten more standing near, all in a cave. Precious to all, these trees we can save. Twenty young trees, deciduous leaves. When one dies someone cries. When all die no one grieves. Twenty young trees, none sown by hand, From no seed did they spring, yet all planted by man.
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Well done grasshopper. My Gung Fu is no match for you! (I call it a crib)
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I’m trapped within a single cage, My penance in this modern age. My fellow inmates know not sin Save vacant stares and toothless grins. My guards are few, but two . . . or one, They speak to me in foreign tongues. If I should want, I simply shout, Yet still they will not let me out. Where am I?
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d3k3 . . . It's outta da park ladies and gents! Not a grand slam but the run still counts; outstanding.
