I Can Sound a Gong
I’m in bowling and baseball,
For better or for worse,
On a match (but not the sporting kind),
I can sound a gong,
And I’m gone.
What am I?
Strike.
A strike in bowling is good. In baseball it’s good for the pitcher but not for the batter. You can strike a match to light it. When the clock strikes one a gong sounds and when you strike a paragraph, it’s gone.
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
As Long As They’re Dead
This is a place. The first letter is after A and before Z but nowhere in between. You can bring as many people as you want, as long as they’re all dead. Where is it?
The cemetery. The letter C is after A and before Z, and it’s not found in the word “between”. The cemetery won’t take live ones. Fortunately I don’t speak from experience on that.
A Face But No Eyes
I have a face but no eyes. Hands but no arms. What am I?
A clock.
Walk On the Living
Walk on the living, they don’t even mumble,
Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble.
What are they?
Leaves. They’re soft and silent when they’re alive but crunchy when dead.