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Saul Makabim Aug 2012
Rapidly writing
his ragged riddles
he giggles
and flips furiously
through his pad
Glad to be in his element
weaving his meanings
out of their words
hides dead drop spikes
and microfiche behind his verbs
Slice him open he bleeds
black and white
like ink and computer screens
The Enigma becomes a riddle to himself
lost in the context of his own twisted reality
he falls into his own textual mazes
and is enslaved, as a hologram,
a nightmare, or three,
the happy family
and the RaceCyst
Scarecrow stands silent
stealthily concealed behind a simile.
I observe
the Riddler weaving word nets
and lines of buried treasure truth
commandeered from the pits of shared despair
The Riddler knows what evil lurks in the deepest black,
even now he is giggling at the thought of it.
Nathan Wilson Mar 2016
Give me a riddle, riddler.
Something to puzzle my mind.
Give me something to consider.
To keep me occupied.
A way to pass the time.
Give me a riddle, riddler.
So I don’t go mad before dinner...
insanity
Though perception is interesting, how many was it really, wait, the joker never drank really? did he? ****, I forget. um, but I think I recall the riddler had , wait, maybe not. um,, way under the legal limit is below two , but did he, the joker, you know how he is. considering, wait, who was counting those things? what, one and what, oh ****. and we... what a **** this kat can be, wait, did he really, run the gauntlet just to show the world , oh ****, pull the skit, it is too rich, and he was spotted at the bank earlier speaking of laughing next time he visited. ****, writers and those skits. troublesome, and grrr, they forget to keep it clean. lol
Michelle E Alba Mar 2012
Lamenting lost love
hidden behind harmonies,
(synonymous to symphony)
resonates absently.
Like making love
to a stranger.
Like you make love
to me.
Void of all passion,
like revenge of apathy.
Apathetic entirely,
the emptiness that fuels you
emphasizes decrees.
Standard-less standards
validate your need
to dismantle the mantled,
and devour the diseased,
to command and to seize,
to exploit the exploited,
and explore every scene—
every pelvis, and every scream.

How did I fall for such a—
loveless being?
Better yet,
How do I disintegrate re-memories,
Or abolish aplitic fallacies,
and survive soullessly?
(How must I do these things!?)
Here I plead
surrounded, unattentively,
summoning recognition
for the being
whom resides in me.

Resurrecting old wounds,
(chore almost seems daily)
almost seems like it’s alive,
like maybe one day
it might save me.
More likely, one day
it will concave me.  

But without knowledge
there is no upset.
And no upset means
no you and me.
Oscar Mann Mar 2016
I am a riddle,
Wrapped in a mystery
Inside an enigma
And riddles is what I love

I am a master of crime
A bundle of vicious wit
Combined with callous creativity
Instead of petty violence

For brute strength
Is far from refined
Compared to this mastermind
I am one of a kind

So riddle me this,
Riddle me that
And get used to the fear
For the Riddler is here
Samir Sep 2012
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
 
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
 
And Bingo was his name-o!
 
Ah!
 
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
 
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
 
And mora is but a half step to a whole
 
Eek gad!
 
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
 
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
 
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
 
12344
12344556
12344
12­344556
 
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
 
 
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
 
Together we fall!
United I stand.
 
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
 
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
 
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
 
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
 
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
 
True or False?
Hide and Seek
 
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
 
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
 
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
 
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
 
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
 
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
 
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Being cared for
Here's the  adored door

Inside playing he pours the hearts

So like him the ricochet
Deeply love so cultured
My pearl crochet

Deeply cared about I got you
under my skin
I win your love ticket

The spool of
wool hit the floor
To the extreme
The sensitive mind

  And his feeling like the escapee finding
the higher
religion keeping that in mind
The everlasting  to be cared for or
not to be never lasting like someone
lost its hunger fasting

Waking up deeply recharged or
reproducing to
her neverending fairytale

Much deeper than 69 eye love shades
Deeply cared for beyond his loving
It comes and fades
Like Monopoly  "Godly Sun-Seeker" keeps
passing us
The game of life charades
Like Persian babies their
button nose deeply cared for to cuddle
The warmest meows hug and save

Like flour to sparkle, it deepens
like our mix, a love needs
to be worked on 
 do you really
care to fix?

But sending all the details
the lines soften pale pink rose
I felt your red fire putting
out the coldness fire and ice
To be saved on time
Like the fire chief,  
Acted like a French chef what
a love roue of the hose

Like silk my millennium  milk,
He held my finger but not
to sulk he said buckle up
What firmness and tightness
arm to arm wrestler such
bulk

Never to swear but a little lie 
  Wouldnt hurt my delicate
pinky finger
In her loop with her fur
deeply
Stepped into her mink

He's the frontman
Fresh cut lemon
Yellow sunshine
happy medium

I was wearing my hair middle parted
The picture slide the made man
Tied back my hair was deeply
Smooth talker well conditioned
With what conditions all recollections
But three strikes when you care for
someone you  don't fall out of love

  This world loves to be pampered
Cared about not scouted
All hole marks in the road badly routed
 With tons of work with the question mark?
The sign stayed with her
Deeply care about?

Like a play date let's pretend
You're both a handful
Like beer malt lips
Engraved love in the barrels
To feel deeply loved  he acted
Like the riddler

The beach her eyes were waiting to be reached
Sunset playing the fool marionette overly preached

So I  Bette
Beneath her wings
In the middle of their wed to be isles
The Green Gables emerald rings

Miss spinster-Sara Lee cake
His jeep was all she could take
How it ended up
In Greenwich Village then shipped
To Mystic Seaport Connecticut
The movie cut Cape Cod Massachusetts
The four letters in his pocket
Deeply 1 care 2 about 3 love 4

Needed a jump kickstart
Her breakfast  start of the day
 deeply cared for his way
He stumped over her honey
bunches of oats lips

The website
Go, Daddy acting love silly
The hot fun in the
International city
The UK that's OK
Mr. Bo Jangles spoiled deeply
*** in the City single
Deeply getting hurt
The Sin City

Did he see her progress
All over Twitter
He was so suited but lost
his tie twinkle tweets
Do I really live my life to dare
or deeply care?
I am ****** British give me
my English breakfast teas
for keeps
The King ain't got that swing
She acts too much like the Queen

The Royalty of love sanity
The heaping fine grain sugar spoon

(Duke of Earl gray) Deeply love Thee
But always came way too soon
She is the domestic cat going frantic

Great discoveries, and that's that
  Internships tug-cash or the hogwash
our colleagues  
The deep end "Crazy Eights
On the tenth physio natural
phenomena convent

All the Kingman no swords holding her
wrench
and knight horses unfortunate events
One day creation camel ride for miles
Reaching higher levels of toxins
and morons
Or teaching MLM  you asked for it
"The millionaire lost minds"

Were human TLC tender loving care
Like some playdough to the rooftop
Of Mentors, did they care
Who we deeply care about family
But more concerned
about the rise of money inventors
Even if life really *****
Oh! Fiddlesticks

The Moaning of life
Bring the Idiots aboard
The ***** of the night

He kinda ducks by the end of
your ***-light
Flex-body deeply cared for
Rumors and all philosophies
The shower like you was slashed
Left you bone dry without the cash
The thrill is gone your lovesick

She-devil  coffin red nails split Twilight zone

  The stars were in your corner
He deeply cared for you he was
your health kit
The Botanical Gardens

Like a figment of your imagination
Se demure you needed a
Florence Nightingale flower cure
To lift your depression to smile
You thought someone cared but all
misinterpretations

All misconceptions and misdemeanors
She takes so long putting on her
French lip glide Chanel liner
What could be ever cared for finer
Deeply digging holes like a miner

The solar rhythmic pointed finger
to the stars

So systematically
making a wish
just like everyone else
To plan your game
the game makes the plan
You deeply cared for delivery
Was I the care package

You weren't someone
just anybody like
A city dump garbage

Deeply wanting and waiting
So merely or rarely was it coming

Deeply seeing the next generation
The spectacular sunrise
White wicker twin set swing
Your heart pulls back but it was
so close to swinging forward
Moving towards your
accomplishments
The mess was all ****

"You have the exceptional mind like the beautiful mind"

People, you came across friends
Also, contributors  not the enemies
The country and the continents
Deeply cared for landmarks
The monuments how you love
her birthmark taking her hand

The Godly land such will command
moonwalker deeply cared for
All watered deep soul of lovers
The world of hands and
words became
such an impact

You felt like the creature so extinct
Things we deeply care about or no one doesn't understand our feeling we move or fly in all directions just to get the right affection
preservationman Mar 2014
The Commissioner has summoned Batman and Robin
The Bat signal had just came on
It was a night being long
Batman and Robin came in a flash on the scene
The villains will all eventually come clean
It seemed there was a big plot becoming an act
But when it comes to crime, it gets a big smack
The villains trying to get Batman and Robin dissolved
They wanted the crusader’s out of the way, and not involved
High above the Thrift building overlooking Gotham City
To the citizens below it will be a pity
Sleeping gas has been spreading to knock the city out
However Batman and Robin are trapped in a trunk being no where about
Every citizen has fallen asleep
Are the Gotham City citizens in a song of my soul to keep?
Will Batman and Robin escape being ocean deep?
The Bat channel continues on far as long
Batman was holding his breath, and suddenly broke from his bonds and cut Robin loss as well
They immediately headed for the Thrift building
When Batman and Robin arrived, all the villains were shocked in surprise
The question came up with how did you escape?
I’m Batman, and what saved me was my cape
Robin replied, “Let’s put these villains to their own sleep in jail deep”
POW from Batman to the RIDDLER
BANG from Robin to the JOKER
YONK to the other villains
Batman and Robin stated to the villains, “Crime truly doesn’t pay and you now received our relay”
Good Bat night and Batman and Robin turned crime into a justice sight.
DARK NIGHT AND ROBIN THAT ARE A TEAM, AND TELLING ALL VILLAINS YOU BETTER COME CLEAN
Samir Sep 2012
We are absurd
You and I

Fragments

We have created a figmentative reality,
where words are symbols of relation
that you and I falsify

And Bingo was his name-o!

Ah!

Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon

What do you mean?
and how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole

Eek gad!

January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August 28th
Sept Oct Nov Dec

Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?

12345
12345678
12345
12345678

12344
12344556
12344
1234­4556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy

Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”

Together we fall!
United I stand.

Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar

What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour

Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!

Repetition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…

verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such

True or False?
Hide and Seek

Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.

Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand

Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue

Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise

You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
Asterisk*

A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Jane Harper Apr 2016
A poem a day
Keeps the demons away.
Jamie King Jan 2015
Reap a reaper,
riddle a riddler,
Out-think a thinker
while watching a man who
still steals steel
find peace in a
pierced piece,
as he see seas
that are ceasable.
laughing at laughter because it's laughable.

Risk seeking
to seek risking
so you can feel feelings
of love for a lover
because they're lovable
while realising that in reality they are not reliable
They get sensitive
about sensitivity
is that sensible?
Questioning questions
that are not questionable.

End at the beginning
or begin at the end
to rest restfully as you
dream dreamfully about
articulating art artfully.
I thought I'd try something different and just free my mind I hope you enjoy it
Alegria Mir Mar 2017
You were always an enigma I was waiting to uncover
Coming to me drunk and leaving sober
It was clear we were never meant to be together
But I constantly wandered, hoping I'll discover

Who is this man I meet every winter?
Whose touch is tender with words so bitter
Someone I pined for while he cared lesser
Maybe I should succumb under the snowflakes of surrender
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2014
maybe '14 wasn't so great,
maybe indeed,
it was just
******* awful,
a year out of sequence,
come fifty, seventy years too soon.

here I am
alone at home,
laying about,
and A riddler wishes
me a marvelous holiday,
a merry Christmas,
interrupting my umpty umpth
viewing of Ralph's seasonal quest
for a Red Ryder BB gun

another poem, gestating,
suddenly borning,
kicking my guts
get out here and now,
nine months, of nine minutes are up

another story,
needy for retelling,
another riddle to unravel,
another itch, this day is now stuck on
a poetry assignment, way way too big,
high school football and a good novel,
put far aside and from a
watery weeping state,
here he goes...

ain't no hiding this day,
ain't exactly mine,
a nice Jewish boy,
from the skyscraper city,
brine bred on family lore,
that starts with an escape journey
from the Spanish Inquisitors
some five hundred some years ago  

clueless where to take this travail,
absent answers, questions unanswered,
why do I do this to myself,
looking once again
at the places where pain
comes from,
knowing that my human answers
just a salve of paper thin digital words

how to crossover,
from distressed days
to peace on earth,
when  I ain't got
no talking relationship
with Jesus on an
average bad day,
let alone his manger birthday

this year was not my best neither,
double negatives purposeful employed,
but my bad ain't even close,
to answering riddles and questions
taken as my very own,
making a bad year
that much worse

head butting,
no answers coming,
when my own spirit in the sky,
does it again,
via Pandora,
plays another
nice Jewish boy's answer
to my dilemma,
as if my mind read,
Norman Greenbaum sings his answer
from way back in
1969

well my prayer
sorta exactly answered,
whom am I to disbelieve,
here's another tribe member wrestling
with the exact same interrogatory,
invoking Jesus's intervention
one that sold millions of copies,
to ever question the
unfathomable wisdom of
the spirit in the sky

but my work made even easier,
the question riddler
clues me in
with her answer simple,
and unafraid:

"celebrate the present
and
remember the missing
then celebrate both together"


there is no divide here,
no north, no south,
call your spirit by whatever name,
and
where your story begins,
how it ends,
it's your own poem~composition,
mostly writ,
but not all,
by you,
that cannot be forgot,
for all humans are poems,
past and present
are forever

when at a loss
for the salve of digital words,
well remember Abraham told his only son
some plain words:

"the spirit in the sky,
will provide"

celebrate our portion,
larger or smaller
for are we not family,
one family,
one portion

Riddle solved

-----------------------------------------------
Norman Greenbaum - Spirit In The Sky Lyrics |1969

"When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
When I lay me down to die
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky

Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
Prepare yourself, you know it's a must

Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He's gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky

Gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky
That's where you're gonna go when you die
When you die and they lay you to rest
You're gonna go to the place that's the best

Never been a sinner, I never sinned
I got a friend in Jesus
So you know that when I die
He's gonna set me up with the spirit in the sky

Oh, set me up with the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
I'm gonna go to the place that's the best
Go to the place that's the best"
For my Southern cousins, the Riddle family,
Christmas 2014.

thank you Ashleigh...

That this poem would be  written was strangely foretold two days ago:

"children
foreign born,
here & passed,
whom I have never met, but,
who are poems
dearest in my breast,
as if, no,
as they are mine own..."

From
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1007636/our-verse-into-psalm/
Ryan Jakes Jun 2014
I watch you sleeping,
Impossibly long eyelashes, black as rooks
flutter against yesterday's sun blushed cheeks,
small digits twitching,
right thumb firmly in mouth
suckling salt soaked skin.

You are the sea my boy,
the earth, the moon and stars.

I sip at my coffee,
eyed by Spiderman
as the Joker grins
and the Riddler envies Dr Seuss.

This moment is perfection,
a little bit of calm
before the tornado hits
with the blue of your eyes.
James Floss Aug 2018
I wanna be bigger than the Hulk
Louder than Shatner yelling "Kaaaaahn!”
Gorshin cackling as the Riddler
With Meredith waddling behind

Faster than the Flash
Stronger than Superman
Richer than Bruce Wayne
More wonderful than lasso woman

I need an origin story
Radioactive tick bite
Radiodactive side kick
Radio waves from fingertips

I need drama that’s not mellow
***** show in a shitstorm
Facing the hounds of hell
In my Deus ex Machina
kt Dec 2014
I'm the riddler whithout a fiddler
what a joker with out a poker.
Saul Makabim Aug 2012
Another
****** up morning
Gray light transforming
The walls
Arcing displays
Of my never ending failures
Souls connected
And ripped apart like bailing twine
Remains burned
Put out with sacrilegious wine
Trampled and ground into misery
I eat the misery
My daily bread
Needs, wants, fated jaunts
Blatant disregards
Constant circling carrion birds
Salivating over my stumbles
I mumble, and cite
The glorious night
But I have failed yet again.
A Joker laughs
A Riddler giggles
I stumble and fall into the pit
At least there is no bottom.
Megan Sherman Nov 2016
He talks in riddles wrapped in mystery.
The words are enigmas. They have history.
He thinks in ways that can’t be known.
His mind is wild and overgrown.

I never saw a soul so deep;
Spirit so fair; temperament meek.
His mind is free of any stain.
In these words he'll live again.
I am invisible when I ascend
But visible when I descend

I sustain every living thing,
I am what spawned forth
The firmament


I run but I have no legs
And I clap but I have no hands

What Am I?
Leave your answers on the comments section.
Taylor Broussard May 2019
I am a misunderstood girl
Not a lunatic
On the brink of snapping
Not a walking target
With a bull's-eye taped to her back

My feelings are greatly guarded
By barbed wired fences
Taller than the Eiffel Tower
By stone walls
Stronger than diamonds

I wear a merry mask
As deceiving as The Riddler
With yellow and orange feathers
And a smile of emeralds
In school I was always the shy, quiet girl and was often seen as a target for it. This poem goes out to all my fellow wallflowers.
preservationman Jun 2017
Why does a TV series, Bat Phone, Villains and Gotham City have in common?
Batman played by Adam West
Adam West, you fought a good fight
Your name will continue to shine written in the Batman light
Villains always felt they had you trapped
But along with Robin you give them a tough lesson of smack
Your thinking plans were always sharp as a tack
But leave it to the Bat computer to figure villains out
It was words of POW, KABOOM and CRASH
But you were Batman and it was business as usual in justice in Gotham City
Yet to the villains no one had a pity
The RIDDLER always had a plot
The JOKER tried to tie you in a knot
The MADHATTER in look into my hat
MR. FREEZE with his chilling detail
But throughout was always a villain fail
Justice always triumphant and the villains went to jail
Who could forget a voice, “Will Batman and Robin make it through their fate, but is too late. Be sure to find out Same Bat station and Channel
Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’hara all sadden in having a loss
But Batman and Robin you a team being a force
You will be missed in your acting ability ways
Yet the remembrance is here to stay
Acceleration in my mind being the Batmobile and Bat Cycle
Crime Fighting TV will never be the same
However, the thought of TV Batman and Robin will continue to remain
Your mission going forward in Heaven will be to recruit faithful Souls
But it will be the face of Adam West that will be the behold
Commissioner Gordon says, “Thanks for being Gotham City’s Protector and always being on call”
Adam West response is “To My Fans, Thank You All”.
MARK RIORDAN Jun 2017
ADAM WEST HAS PASSED AWAY
ROBIN IS NOW ALONE
NO MORE WILL BATMAN CALL
COMMISSIONER GORDON ON THE BAT PHONE


CAT WOMEN THE JOKER
AND THE RIDDLER WILL
MISS THIS CRIME FIGHTING BAT


ROBIN ALFRED AND COMMISSIONER GORDON
WILL MISS THE INCREDIBLE COMBAT


THE LEGEND OF BATMAN
WILL LIVE ON FOR EVER MORE
THE CRIME FIGHTING HERO'S OF TODAY
WE SALUTE YOU ADAM WEST ONCE MORE
THE ORIGINAL BATMAN HAS PASSED AWAY ADAM WEST THE CRIME FIGHTING HERO OF THE SIXTIES. IN ADAM WEST BATMAN WAS BORN AND THE LEGEND OF THE SUPER HERO'S CONTINUES TODAY.  HE WILL BE TRULY MISSED.
SJPugsley Apr 2020
In the land of Coleridge and his Ancient Mariner,
    In a time of coal fires, wooden boats and horsepower,
There is a story of the Lynmouth Lifeboat Louisa
    And the night horse and man over 13 miles pulled her.

Two of the afternoon clock struck a chime,
    On January 12th, 1899.
The wind howled and the sea it roared,
    Flooding ports and railways, taking off windows and doors.
The ship, Forest Hall, with masts a three
    Was being towed up Bristol Channel with a crew of 15.
Bound for Liverpool, at St. David’s Head she cast off,
    But the wind, it blew stronger and the waters grew rough.
Suddenly the cable grew taught and then snapped,
    The tugboat immediately came about to get back.
For over an hour they tried to re-fix the line
    But the storm was upon them, they had run out of time.
Captain Uliss made haste to anchor at bay
    But another obstacle was thrown in their way.
The rudder of the Forest Hall was broken by a squall,
    To the mercy of Poseidon and ****** they were all.
The ships’ anchor dragged, no purchase it found
    The ship was headed for Exmoor’s rough ground
At 6:33pm a telegraph was sent
    From Porlock to Lynmouth the Postmaster went
“Large vessel. Distress. Offshore Porlock”
    Five minutes later the first signal rocket went off
Out into the pounding rain they ran
    Those lifeboatmen and locals to lend them a hand
The waves loomed over the watch tower on the pier,
    Then crashed down in fury which deafened the ear
“Tis hopeless” the Coxswain, Jack Crocombe, said he
    “ain’t a crew in the service who could launch safely”
“From a more sheltered station we’ll call a new boat”
    And to the post-office they went, to send a telegraph out
Tap, tap, tap on the Morse key he pressed
    But nothing was happening, there was no line left
Blown down by the storm, and all hope with it,
    “The duty is ours, but we cannot fulfil it”.


Part 2:
“The duty is ours, it’s us or nobody” he shouts
    “it can’t never be nobody, go we must”
The protests did start, and questions did fall,
    But the Coxswain had an answer to silence them all
“Now, I know that we can’t launch her from ‘ere”
    “but it’s thirteen miles to Porlock Weir”
The voices were shouting, no one knew what to do
    But the Second Coxswain’s voice carried on through
“Jack, we’ll need ‘osses, every ‘oss can be spared”
    “if we got enough power, we’ll get her there”
The choice had been made, the die had been cast,
    The crew had a plan, a solution at last
Around came the Lifeboat Louisa, so grand
    Standing 34ft long and 7ft wide on land
3.5 tonnes was her unladen mass
    The add thirteen crew, oars, rigging and two masts
The shafts had been fitted to the carriage with ease,
    Rarely used but kept in the boathouse for needs
The horses were hitched, the carriage coupled on.
    In total, the train was one hundred and thirty foot long
“Right then” said the Coxswain “let’s be off”
    “up Countisbury Hill!” but as soon as they started, they stopped.
The horses did not pull together as a team,
    The wheels were stuck in the parapet, of the bridge over the stream
In minutes it was fixed, and it started again
    This time all horses were pulling the same.
Up Countisbury hill, they walked on and on,
    Until they reached open ground, then the protection was gone
The rain thundered down; the wind raged again
    Still the team kept on going, the pace slow and same.
All of a sudden, the carriage plunged to the right,
    A four-foot wheel came off, then rolled out of sight
“There’s a wheel off!” the cry rang “get them scotches under!”
    It was the front offside wheel that was causing this blunder
Nearly forty minutes it took to replace the wheel
    Still the great storm refused to heel
But then they were off, nearly conquered the hill
    But many more challenges faced them still.
The Blue Ball Inn marks Countisbury Hill peak
    And hot cocoa and brandy helped restore the weak.
Now they pressed on, ten miles to go.
    They were making good progress but painfully slow.


Part 3:
The rain had stopped, the lamps shone bright,
    This brave crew continued through the night.
The party had by now reached Ashton Lane
    Where their troubles soon were to begin again
On this narrow road, the walls were strong and thick
    Impassable for the carriage, but Coxswain Jack had a trick
“We’ll pull the boat through the lane on the skids”
    “The carriage can go o’er the moors with the kids”
So once again horse and train were detached
    A new plan at work, only recently hatched
Eight horses pulled the carriage away,
    Leaving ten to continue to Porlock Bay.
The boat was pulled down Ashton Lane
    Later, all men agreed this was the worst part of the way.
Mud underneath, and walls closing in
    Barely inches to move and soaked to the skin
Boast, horses and carriage finally together again
    Made their way onwards, leaving the lane
Half past one, on that stormy black morn
    County Gate was passed, conversation was born
The crew started talking, spirits, they grew
    But a challenge was coming and this they all knew
Porlock Hill was coming their way,
    Navigating this death path was tricky even in the day.


Part 4:
Porlock Hill, as the locals say
    Is the devil incarnate come night or day
But the brave men from Lynmouth at the top they stopped
    Safety chains, drag ropes and skid pans were fitted against the clock
Four horses at the front to control the bends
    Ten at the back plus men to see this through to the end
Down the twists and turns the crawled
    On the drag ropes and harnesses, man and horse hauled
Round the last corner “We’ve done it!” “We’re down!”
    Sighs let out, smiles put on, it was an inspiring sound
Then all at once, morale took a plunge down,
    As they stared at the entrance to Porlock Town.
Old Widow Washford had a cottage this end,
    It would be impossible for the carriage to round the bend
The wall of the garden would have to come down
    So, the crew started trying to widen the ground
“What are ye thinking at this time o’ night?”
    “How dare ye start bangin! Gave me a fright”
Old Widow Washford’s head poked through the door
    Was there no end to the troubles faced on this moor?
Once again, the Coxswain had the answer and said
    “Don’t worry, we’re just widening the road dear. Go back to bed”
The old woman was dressed and out in a flash
    Shouting encouragement, soon the wall was hashed.
Six inches more, they needed to pass
    The corner of the cottage came off at last.
Five of the clock struck the morning chime,
    For most people here, that was rising time.
Out of the town, and past the Ship Inn
    The last part of their journey was soon to begin.


Part 5:
Half past five when they reached Porlock Weir
    They were soon stopped by people when drew near.
“You can’t go no further” the Anchor Hotel Landlord said
    “the road’s gone, Jack, to the beach, nothing’s left”
Only half a mile stood ‘tween the crew and their goal
    They would not let this stop them, oh no.
The top road they took, almost as narrow as Ashton Lane
    An exercise none of them wanted to repeat again.
The train drew on, till they reached a tree
    An old Laburnum standing between them and the sea.
Down it came and then back on their way
    The light was beginning to turn night to day.
The boat reached the beach, the flares had been lit,
    The ****** poised with their oars, ready to hit.
Holding the stop, Second Coxswain yelled “HAUL”
    And down shot the Louisa, into the squall
The oars struck together, through the roaring sea
    Sails hoisted, oars beating, wind blowing hatefully.

It was on the morning Friday 13th January,
    That Lifeboat Louisa of Lynmouth launched at Porlock from Countisbury.
Ten and a half hours, over thirteen miles
    This crew and their boat had endured many trails
The Forest Hall was reach, her crew all safe
    Back to the mainland they made at pace.


Jack Crocombe, George Richards, Charles Crick, Richard Burgess,
    Richard Ridler, David Crocombe, Bertram Pennicott, William Jarvis.
George Rawle, William Richards and John Ward
    John Riddler, E.J. Peddar and Richard Moore.

All of them crew members on that historic day
    And for this they are remembered in every way.


But I give my thanks to the crew mate who gave this story to me,
    My Great Great Grandfather, Lynmouth Lifeboatman
        William Sellick Pugsley.


Sophie J Pugsley
Great Great Granddaughter of crewmate William Pugsley of the Lynmouth Lifeboat Service.
STLR Oct 2016
Darkness feels great...grunge is the Feeling of teeth grinding on a steel plate

it still hates and seems to thrive under...like a mean bear in its cold slumber

they ask how high are you?  I say real low...self-esteem is negative zero

steam blows through the nose of the enemy of the hero...which is stellar

enemies pretend to be civilians in red sweaters..killers of all colors

no surprise for the eyes of the blind..for they think deep thoughts and feel deep vibes.

in these's times there is no true winner the good guy is blurred out by the bad guys glimmer...well aren't you chipper? No, I'm bitter

"I'm as salty as a beach in my presidential suite" really? Well I **** it all like bleach

so please get your stain on...and if you take it away I will get my gain on

green light seems right...I call it game on

your all like crooked pictures with their frames off.

One pop to your face will knock your frame off...I will **** everybody..call me Adolf...The stickler...?

What is a joker to a riddler?

the past peel's like old paint stickers

Shadows become thicker...

Water becomes liquor

Girlfriends become strippers.

Darkness engulfs all including the small glimmers
Lexander J Apr 2015
In an inter-galactic ice cream van he arrived
and whizzed me away to countless nether-space lands -
through a universe of broken jigsaw pieces,
where rich diamanté flowers grew in shape-shifting sands.

He took me up the scarlet mountains
of the cotton candy clouds -
we both stood upon the smouldering brink of Hell
and gazed upon the ****** souls and tortuous shrouds.

He shown me light
wherein it seemed only eternal darkness prevailed,
he cracked the Astro-Riddler's code, and what
the aliens contempt language entailed,

with blistering fury
he spat in the pitiless face of greed -
with an almighty FLASH! And a rip-roaring DASH!
He travelled back to when God first planted mankind's seed.

He witnessed the future of the human race
fall horrifically out of place as the cunning serpent tempted Eve;
once he even stood before his coming demise
just to witness what the dead perceive.

O' those star-studded journeys were amazing
infinite wonders and simple love he exhaled,

but the most important thing he ever shown me,

was to never give up no matter how often I failed.
The shadow of the moon passes over me
That colossal creature is an absolute beauty

It slithers exquisitely over the yard
It snickers dangerously in the mind of the bard

A cold ruthlessness settles when the trees grin
Attend the rise of the pumpkin king

While myths and monsters uncover
Watch out for the Riddler

Trudge carefully on this day
The day of Halloween

“…or you might,
never come back…”
Was made for halloween
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
Here's to folly, to the great valley called love
Which reminded me of forever through imperfections,
Hardships and disappointments, of falling deeply
Into discovery from self-doubt, of reaching freedom,
The bore of a goal like contentment.

Here's to pain, the antithesis of the stars,
Of pretensions and incompletion, the middleground
Between the starts and the endings, the covert catalyst,
The grand surrealist, as we dread to know
The fullness of our sanity, of our souls,
Our fragility, of our very being.

Here's to the machinery, the agitation
Called dreams, the sweet fog of distant memories,
Or the dark smoke of passion sometimes,
Cunning as ever, like a freight train,
Like wind, like havoc, like thypoon,
Oftenly deprived of conclusive destinations.

Here's to art, drama and poetry, the mystics,
The sons and daughters of the grand mystics,
Of philosophy, science and religion, not to mention
History, the grand infidel, and mythology, the fibber.

Answers overwhelm us, test us, and divide us,
They appear when we're most not ready,
Yet the questions keep us sane, ever growing,
Ever sun, ever moon and ever cloud.

Only time will tell and would not,
The old grey, the clear dark, the pale light,
It never learned a language,
It only learned to live, noticed
But never quite understood.
How diaphanous. How vague.

So here's to the confusion, to the uncertainty
Like love always has been.
Here's to us, to our ambitions,
Our possessions, the treasures which speak
Permanence in our hearts.
Here's to the violent, the meek and the indifferent.
Here's to the society and the humanity
That's left in it. Here's to those who hate me.
Here's to our faith and our fate.
Here's to the poems that will never be written again.

Here's to you, my love, my true.
May we stay kind, mad, and human,
Or something more, whatever that means,
Despite the opposition, and deception and progression.
So here's to the Universe.
Here's to the grand riddler called existence.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Longer than the usual.
Angela Punch Mar 2017
All is quiet in the house. Your slumber is almost the loudest voice in my head.
I can only sit idly by and watch faceless creatures of my rage battle with no armor.
Reaching outward, spinning within,
I grasp at letting go.
All I know is something I treasure, yet wish to lose.
Empty pockets don’t drop many coins.
Eternity taunts my limited time ticking without a halt towards a future that ceases to exist.
Faith in lack seems to be all we’re granted.
The riddler laughs at my fate.
Surrender to this cruel joke is all I can do within its confinement.
The escape route has a road block, and armed guards ordered to shoot on sight.
Every pleasure is lined with thorns and ***** my weakened hands.
Alone is all we can ever be.
The gift of senses is our curse in this nightmare dressed as enchantment.
Wolf in sheep's clothing, he nips at my ankles.
If I stumble I lose a foot,
If I fall I lose my life.
Buried amongst the leaves is my hope to comprehend.
But no knowledge can ever cut through these chains that bind my ability to be free.
My tears contain my rage,
my rage contains my innocent notion that drives me to madness.
The simple yearning to love without condition, to touch without getting burned.
Where did goodness lose the battle?
Eve ate the fruit that grants her breath, birthing her condemnation.
No handbook to guide us.
No map to get us through this maze.
We cannot know what kills us till we die.
This utopia has no order.
No leader.
no captain at the helm.
So many souls lost at sea, until the waves break their vessels and swallow their strength to persevere.
I ache to be a shepherd without consequence.
It's hard to stand on broken limbs.
The pain is all that cradles my fall.
Hush little baby, don't say a word when you're mockingbird cannot fly.
The dish ran away with the spoon,
The little girls laughs as I eat with my hands.
Drunk poet Nov 2017
I know of a mysterious being,
Dressed in suits, but bestowed with ancient voices.
I know of a magician,
A supernatural astounder, who performs in hearts of men.
.
I know of a trickster,
Whose tricks surpass that of tortoise in folklores
And whose dark long hat is made with anguish.
I know of a sorcerer, who performs in hearts of men.
.
He, who gives without notifying hesitation,
Comes to take with without invitation .
I know of a wizard, giver of caps but taker of heads
And he lives in hearts of men .
.
Of a riddler I know,
Whose riddles creates chaos in minds of scholars.
I know of a man, who visited me not long ago,
A merchant of Venice looking for a land to sow.
On his hand lies arrow and bow
Ready to shoot into the dearest of hearts
Saying "am coming to you, to create my mark "
And he lives only in the shadows
.
Balogun David Tolulope
(Drunk poet)
©️2017
She doesn't do landscapes,
she does landfills.
No ocean liners on the sea,
only shipwrecks on the bottom.

She states: Jesus was the best Riddler.
Pauline Celerio Jan 2016
Our moment is lost in time.
A single moment of something right.
A moment that I owe to fate
Until it ended and it's too late.
And if we are to meet again
I don't know how, I don't know when.
Amidst the lanterns in the rain
Frontrunner of the parade.
And since that day you stole the night
I'm left with stars to wish upon;
One by one, disappears the light
And my burning heart is left undone.
I dared to seek even I am blind
I dared to find, I dared to fight.
But fate is a fiddler, forever a riddler
And truth in the eyes of a weary soldier.
And if success is hidden from my palm
I guess the storm is in the calm.
So come find me and seize the day,
Surround in heat and start the flame.
Defy the odds and sweep me off my feet
And in the sour, you'll be the sweet.
Come find me now, I'm done finding you,
I dare you to come find me too.
For Don. Come find me.
Remarkable , the guile of migratory
birds for they willingly travel home by memory alone
The diligent October wasp with certain death
awaiting behind some unmarked door
The sunlit , short shimmering life of piedmont morning
dew brought to prominence by it's eventual killer
The curve of the Earth indignant to the lurid passing day
Morning Glory swan song riddler , April flurry Winter bereft
The resolute breaker commanding the shore with it's
dying breath
Copyright October 11 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Pauline Celerio Oct 2016
"So you fancy yourself a writer?
One who dances with words?"

"And one who travels in worlds, sings stories of youth.
One who wonders and wanders, and seeks the depths of the truth."

"And she rhymes too. I do hope to have her sight soon, for chances to make her swoon.
So where does she go, and with who
Sights of gold meant for two?
If lights do shine for one,
could i be one with you?"

"Distance is only just a number, and the words will be our bridges.
And if the lights do shine for us,
Then let the night be our witness."

"So then I must build and travel. Across the world and under stars.
With hope, and hope alone that one day will be ours."

"Hope is a riddler, and life is a fiddler.
And hope--hope will be the silver in the clouds of gray.
And hope is having to meet you, on a one fine day."

"So what should I do, or where might I go?To make real a dream, effort I am keen
To have you; words something more that I can read."

"Oceans--the oceans divide us
But the sky surrounds us.
And I live in the land of people from all walks,
The "promised land"--
The land that promised bounty
The land that promised ecstasy."

"I've seen the sun set over the sea, greeted the man who I call me.
There are times in my life when he will suddenly leave,
but I wish for one day when you two meet."
This is an actual conversation I had with a person. It would be a shame not to immortalize it here. Kudos to you Kyle, you're a great writer!
Johnathan locke Apr 2015
What is an artist?
How are they difined?
Do they have more heart?
Do they have more mind?

An artist is a riddler,
As clever as can be.
They mearly take the things in their head,
And make it so you can see.

An artist is a painter,
Thier work's were colors are teaming.
Pastel or black and white,
If you look between the lines, you'll find a different meaning.

An artist is a designer,
Diverse in their crafts.
From boats, to planes, to shinning stars,
The possibilities are vast.

The meaning of this is simple,
Art isn't something that is made.
For art is alive, and it shall strive,
It's pure emotion will not fade.

All thes statements are true and more,
But missing one last thing.
For to make true art, you need a heart,
For with with soul your art shall sing.
This is one of the first poems I ever wrote.

— The End —