They all serve 1:
2 4 4 3 4
A riddle by the sun
Knocked before shot.
The silent must go
If a clue’s to be got.
Strong is my spine, so hold me
That I may relate all that’s told me
Through leaves often red,
And though I be dead
I’m yours till you’ve given or sold me.
My seed is desire and poison, my fruit,
And when my desire begins to take root,
It grows like a fire that makes it’s way higher
To burn all in sight of the eye of desire.
This will be my last Thursday Riddle, at least for some time. Thank you for playing.
A chest without a heart can’t love;
Survives to be heard even as executed
To echo the voice of a soul that is muted.
Old Ebenezer can be quite distressing:
You take off his cloak, his coat and his shirts
And offer a tear to find it depressing
That Eb is more hidden with every undressing.
I hope you don’t mark me forgetful a man
For all of this tardiness is in my plan.
Four score and two thousand eight hundred is what
You must now resolve if you can.
Upon which a runner may rest
To honor so many a guest.
Stands in silence, shoots and leaves.