Dipping, glinting, gliding by,
Rainbow-fretted, wrought of breath.
I live only while I fly –
Earth’s rough kiss my sudden death.
A soap bubble.
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Poke your fingers in my eyes
and I will open wide my jaws.
Linen cloth, quills, or paper,
I will devour them all.
What am I?
A container without hinges, lock or a key, yet a golden treasure lies inside me. What am I?
Branches grow on its head; it wears spotted clothes. Not a donkey of a horse, it runs like the wind.
Alive as you but without breath,
As cold in my life as in my death;
Never a thirst though I always drink,
Dressed in a mail but never a clink.
It can be cracked, it can be made,
It can be told, it can be played.
What is it?
A joke.animalcleanpoemsshortwhat am I
To you, rude would I never be,
Though I flag my tongue for all to see.
What am I?
I am seen in the water
if seen in the sky,
I am in the rainbow,
A jay's feather,
And lapis lazuli.
Alive without breath,
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking.
Thirty white horses on a red hill.
First they champ,
Then they stamp,
Then they stand still.
Who are they?
Die without me,
Never thank me.
Walk right through me,
Never feel me.