Riddles Poems Novels & Stories

And even at that moment a part of the door lock system opened. “Now the second line” the girl said proud of herself. Alexander without saying a word, even though he had no idea how the chess pieces were to be ordered, began to carefully inspect the four horses. “Order it properly, but be careful that you may need it until it's over ...What does this riddle mean?” “ Maybe it has to do with water.” "Maybe," Alexander said, thoughtful. When water is in liquid form, you can boil it and it evaporates. The order could be swimming horse, fire spitting horse, swirling horse, and steaming horse.”

He nodded. Another twist. The puzzle is not a poem. I just randomly wrote it and it suits the situation, so I added it. H.LOCKHART.

Rae was jumping in her seat with anticipation when I walked in the room. “I guess you found something then” I smirked. “Johnny this book I don’t understand what it is but it is full of acrostic poems but looking at this one particular poem, its layered with more secrets and hidden messages on top. All poems have hidden meanings that’s the basis of every poem but this book is so cleverly written. Look at this page the book and the amulet together- look here,” she showed me the page I had found with the book and Amulet on a stone plinth.

I said, grabbing the book off of the shelf and showing Kai proudly. That was a bit easier than I thought it would be. That was at least reassuring. He took the book from me and flipped through it, confusion lining his features. “Our next clue is a book of poetry?” “Yes. No, not exactly,” I said, biting my lip and flipping the book open until I got to the right poem. “This is a book of poems from the infamous Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke. My favorite poem is this one.” I showed him. I was not huge on poetry, but Rilke was a complete genius with his words, and I would be an idiot to ignore that genius.

He exhaled, then recited: > When day forgets its name and night remakes its face, Find the road where shadows burn and fires learn to wait. Three times will love unmake the Sun: First by breath, then blood, then vow. Follow the silver that is not moonlight. Drink from a river that runs uphill. Speak her true-name where the dawn will not look. And bring her home. Silence settled in around the lines, brittle and precise. I rubbed a thumb across the edge of the altar. “Riddles are for people who have the leisure to be patient.” Malen’s mouth twitched. “We are not afforded clearer instructions when gods write. Still—there is direction here.”

A poem by Moxie, "Roses are red, viloets are blue....this stupid author has no update for you" A poem by Dante, "When it rains it pours, but hopefully not indoors...unless your author has dogs and dirt backyard...it makes keeping mud outside SUPER HARD"

I had to assume he was answering my question by reciting his poem, but I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, so I only stared at him, dumbfounded, until he lowered his book and arched an eyebrow at me. “The Raven?” he said. “Edgar Allan Poe?” “Right,” I said, recognizing the first line of the famous poem now. It seemed fitting. Big, black, ugly, mean bird. Not that our Raven was any of those things. I should’ve thought of it myself. Brice went back to his book, and I wondered if there were any ominous, dark poems written about flamingos. I doubted there were, but perhaps there should be.

"Twinkling spoons in a teapot's dream, Jellyfish waltz in a cosmic stream. Pickles hummed a secret rhyme, Moonbeams whispered cheese and thyme. Penguins danced on rainbow clouds, Unicorn whispers in mushroom crowds. Bananas wore polka dot shoes, Stars played chess, swapping hues. Toasters sang opera in the key of green, Elephants tap-danced on a trampoline. Butterflies knitted socks for the moon, Balloons recited a backwards cartoon. In a world where logic takes a break, Nonsense reigns, a merry mindquake. A symphony of chaos, oh what a treat, In this realm of whimsy, where absurdities meet." The smile on her face was oddly serene as she sang, her eyes gleaming with an enigmatic gleam. The w

From what I picked up she is really into poetry as a way to express herself. I have collected about 100 poems that I have suspected were written by her because of the penmanship. But because the topics were always different and weren’t related to one another it never made sense. And now that I am looking at it from a point of view of this whole reincarnation it might make sense. Every poem is based on the lives she lived every time when she was reincarnated. Obviously somehow she might have picked up on a few things and left clues. In one of the poems, she left behind there was a riddle behind the paper.

My inner thighs are still sore, and I need a good rest, but I'd be damned if I slept in this hauler and then died in my sleep. I raise the paper to my eye level and read the poem again. Is he talking about failure? Is that the puzzle...or is this more like a riddle? Goddess I hate word puzzles. Nothing here makes sense. I breathe in and try to remember all the codes of cracking a word puzzle that Jace had taught me. I start drawing lines chaotically on the paper—straight, diagonal, columns, rows, and backwards. The results are meaningless. Which of these is the passcode? Failure?