Word Riddle
words are riddle
tools of my trade
what am I?
encased in image
landscape visage
symbolic privilege
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Words
words are riddle
tools of my trade
what am I?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riddle
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
Monday morning was the first time
That I noticed something strange
Now I know with your kiss was not the same
Was it all just in my mind
Or was it something I should pay attention to
Then on tuesday having lunch with friends
I thought I saw your car
Leaving from our favorite restaurant but too far
For my eyes to see what I feel
Would be heartbreaking if I saw was true whoo
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
(while the chorus is singing)
History
Its history
cause now I see, you lie
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
(while the chorus is singing)
You gave me clues
I saw through
Now you lose,
You fool
Wednesday evening
Every time the phone would rang
Youd say hello
When Id come around youd say I got to go
Youre friends never called line two before
And I dont know nobody named tyrone
Oh now its thursday
You left the house to go to work an hour early
You said you had some papers for your boss to sign
But you left your briefcase home
And when I called you job
They said you were not there oh yeah
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
(while the chorus is singing)
History
Its history
cause now I see, you lie
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
(while the chorus is singing)
You gave me clues
I saw through
Now you lose,
You fool
Friday night
Is the night weve always had our weekend date
But you showed up at the house extremely late
Without any conversation you just went to bed
And said that youre head ached
Now its the weekend
And you know that its the day I do my cleaning
And when I washed your shirts I just could not believe
Im picking hair weave off your seam
Found a letter in your pocket from the week please
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
(while the chorus is singing)
History
Its history
cause now I see, you lie
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
(while the chorus is singing)
You gave me clues
I saw through
Now you lose,
You fool
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
One little riddle
Two little three little
Four little riddle
Five little six little
Seven little riddle
Eight little riddle
Now you know
You gotta go
song performed by by En Vogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Word Collision
Words are the tools of my trade
I live to play rugby - what am I?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Word Specific
Words are chosen stock tools
defining fermenting my memorable trade
what specific species of being be I?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Stranger's Song
(As sung by Mr. Charles Charrington in the play of "The Three Wayfarers")
O MY trade it is the rarest one,
Simple shepherds all--
My trade is a sight to see;
For my customers I tie, and take 'em up on high,
And waft 'em to a far countree!
My tools are but common ones,
Simple shepherds all--
My tools are no sight to see:
A little hempen string, and a post whereon to swing,
Are implements enough for me!
To-morrow is my working day,
Simple shepherds all--
To-morrow is a working day for me:
For the farmer's sheep is slain, and the lad who did it ta'en,
And on his soul may God ha' mer-cy!
poem by Thomas Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big Speech
Sentences are big, small as well,
Their tailors stupidly work
And the tools split when words are built.
The tools are a spirit, a well-being, a promise,
The tools benefit us in soothing ways.
The sentences become a speech for the royal kings,
They think overall that they own them,
Giving work and problems, saving us, living with danger.
The intelligence of a wish is that of writing
And poetry.
Words spell what we know,
They always now keep magic
That the king sows deep in the land.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amber
A Prehistoric Dragon Fly
Encased in amber, on display
Caught my eye as I passed it by
in the museum yesterday.
Encased in amber, as if time
itself was stopped and held at bay.
You will never know decay
Or another summer's day.
You in amber, me in time
Both are trapped and on display.
You in resin are enshrined,
while I am seen encased in rhyme.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dont Paint Myself Into Corners
(rebecca lynn howard/trey bruce)
It took a while for me to see things as they were
In the light of truth
It wasnt you,it was me
I let myself get used to drowning in the hurt
Against the wall
Whod of thought,it was me
From there I couldnt even look over my shoulder
I kicked down all the walls and started all over
And I dont paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
When you left you left me with no other choice at all
But to sink
To my knees,and cry
I never knew just how far a soul could fall
Like a rock
I couldnt stop,didnt try
I locked myself behind shades of misery
But when I let you go,i set myself free
And I dont paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Image. And Not Substance
We were hired to clean this house,
But where are all the supplies to do it?
'The last occupants,
Took everything.
Including the kitchen sink.
And left nothing behind,
To enable us to do the job properly.'
This will be gruesome news,
To those who value this place...
As a symbolic image they pride.
We will have to triple the budget,
Just to maintain an image.
'What about the people,
Who aren't aware of this? '
I will do the best I can,
To convey that message.
However...
They will just have to face the truth.
'I don't envy the position you are in at all.'
Many do!
But they are certainly not getting the message,
From this inside point of view.
And...
I've already told them I would need their assistance.
'But sir...
If I may say this.
They are a people of image.
And not substance.'
I am finding that out!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words are the basic tools, if you are a writer. But why? Why do you choose one set of tools rather than another?
quote by James D. Houston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Radiation Laboratory we count it a privilege to do everything we can to assist our medical colleagues in the application of these new tools to the problems of human suffering.
quote by Ernest Lawrence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We also have the option of scanning in an image from outside the computer... a photo, or a sketch done with traditional tools; and we can then paint, manipulate, process, change, and further develop the image within the computer, watching our progress on the monitor.
quote by Buffy Sainte-Marie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Saxon Song
Tools with the comely names,
Mattock and scythe and spade,
Couth and bitter as flames,
Clean, and bowed in the blade,--
A man and his tools make a man and his trade.
Breadth of the English shires,
Hummock and kame and mead,
Tang of the reeking byres,
Land of the English breed,--
A man and his land make a man and his creed.
Leisurely flocks and herds,
Cool-eyed cattle that come
Mildly to wonted words,
Swine that in orchards roam,--
A man and his beasts make a man and his home.
Children sturdy and flaxen
Shouting in brotherly strife,
Like the land they are Saxon,
Sons of a man and his wife,--
For a man and his loves make a man and his life.
poem by Victoria Sackville-West
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Without the right tools, we can't police our markets from illegal trade.
quote by Chris Chocola
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Symbols Of A Song
The strength of knowledge and manipulation of words are powerful.
The rhythm of music and the sense of sound are controlling.
When these elements are merged, they form a song.
Two extremes in one mind-blasting theme.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
Have you ever tried studying work, hours upon hours;
And forget everything on the day of the exam.
But if you have heard a song at least three times,
You will find that you have memorised almost half of it.
Perhaps if you put your work into song,
It is guaranteed that you will pass any exam.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
A song can tap into your emotions;
It can change your mood to positive or negative.
It can influence the words you say and the choices you make.
There is always a message being carried.
Whether it makes the fullest of understanding,
Or if it makes no sense at all.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
A song can encourage others to sing along or to dance.
It can boost up worship to God.
It can sooth then motivate others to be cheerful.
It can entertain people and draw them to dance.
This is persuaded by commands in a song,
Or just those soothing music vibes makes you want to move.
A song is never to be underestimated.
It is symbolic of many aspects of life.
poem by SarahLee Emilaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Iscariot
Riddle, riddle, riddle!
Of the eerie image written with facts;
For i am pregnant an my husband had left me for another woman,
But to learn from the odds and to swim in the lake of loneliness is what i am doing.
It is like dropped-out girls from college to learn from hell!
For i was one of them because of my pregnancy;
And to learn from the odds and to swim in the lake of loniness is what i am doing now.
Huffing and puffing to gain my stand,
But the society around us today needs a lot to be said;
But no matter how hard it is, i will try to build up my ship to sail across this ocean.
Where is Iscariot my lover who impregnated me? ! !
And of the eerie encounters so seen around;
But a pastor of my own town also snatched the wife of one of his Elders.
How much more work is needed on our various societies?
For i am intrigued by the acts of many around me! !
With descriptions ans sketches of love like the colours of the rainbow;
But when will i be free with this odd world around me?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Without A Face
I'm all out of hope. One more bad break could bring a fall.
When I'm far from home don't call me on the phone to tell me you're alone
It's easy to deceive. It's easy to tease. But hard to get release.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
I spend so much time believing all the lies to keep the dream alive.
Now it makes me sad. It makes me mad at truth for lovin' what was you.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Your eyes without a face.
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Eyes without a face.
(Les yeux sans visage) Your eyes without a face.
Got no human grace your eyes without a face.
Such a human waste your eyes without a face.
And now it's getting worse. Yeah.
song performed by by Scooter from Encore (Live & Direct)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something ignoble, loathsome, undignified attends all associations between people and has been transferred to all objects, dwelling, tools, even the landscape itself.
quote by Bertolt Brecht
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In just the same way the thousands of successive positions of a runner are contracted into one sole symbolic attitude, which our eye perceives, which art reproduces, and which becomes for everyone the image of a man who runs.
quote by Henri Bergson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Her Memory
You are abruptly lost
Like a kite
flying on raw threads
Your loss is my memory
Your face hangs in the sky
Against the wind
Oh! your memory!
my words are far away from
The metaphors that could hold on
you to the landscape of my mind
Your memory sings against language
or sounds
You defy my familiar tools
And dimly expose an unknown
familiar to ages
and ages of our species
poem by Bhartendu Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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