More Than a Few
Nothing specific,
but more than a few.
This many clustered
together will do.
Bunch. It’s a vague term that means more than a few. And clustered items like bananas, grapes or celery come in bunches.
By Sef Daystrom
Never Goes Airborne
It never goes airborne,
yet, still, it may land.
A punch.
By Sef Daystrom
Not a Bird Though Feathered
It’s not a bird, though feathered, and
it has a mobile nest.
It’s quick in flight and, having flown,
it always stops to rest.
An arrow. It has feathers and its nest (a quiver) is usually carried an archer’s back. The arrow flies when released, but will always land somewhere to rest.
By Sef Daystrom
Slayer of Regrets
Slayer of regrets
old and new,
sought by many,
found by few.
Redemption. It can get rid of regrets, many people seek it but few find it.
By Sef Daystrom
Split Itself
What can split itself
before splitting something else?
Lightning. It looks like it’s splitting apart in the sky, and trees are split in half when struck by lightning.
By Sef Daystrom
A Blade of Jagged Cut
Has a blade of jagged cut.
Keeps the quickest hand out shut.
Goes in darkness. Wears a ring.
One is quiet. Many sing.
A key. It has a jagged cut in order to fit the lock. A locked door keeps people out and the keyhole is dark. Key rings are a common way to hold a set of keys, and when you’re using a key that one is quiet, but the rest jingle and jangle.
By Sef Daystrom
Right Behind You Creeps on the Ground
It’s right behind you,
And creeps on the ground,
It follows you home,
But does not make a sound.
Careful when you turn around.
What is it?
Your shadow.
Everyone Has It
Everyone has it.
Those who have it least don’t know that they have it.
Those who have it most wish they had less of it,
but not too little or none at all.
Age. Young children don’t even know their age and extremely old folks wish they could turn back the hands of time, but not so much that they’re too young or they no longer have an age at all.
By Sef Daystrom
Builds Its Table On My Shelf
From that which comes within itself,
it builds its table on my shelf.
A spider. The silk comes from within the spider, and the “table” (web) is often built in corners like there are on a bookshelf.
By Sef Daystrom
Can’t Be Touched, Can Be Felt
It can’t be touched, but can be felt.
It can’t be opened, but can be gone into.
Those who seek it always find it under something,
yet it moves from place to place.
Shade. You can’t touch shade, but you can feel its coolness. You can’t open shade but you can go into it. If you’re looking for shade it always has to be underneath something to block the light and shade moves as the light does.
Written by Sef Daystrom