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Riddles from Pink Elephants in Paris

 All riddles by Mary Lafleur
 Copyright 1996, All rights reserved.
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A Grassy Riddle

A place to play
With grass and trees
And maybe a slide and a swing.
A place to sit
In the evening breeze
And keep an eye on things.
What am I?

A Stoney Riddle

Made by stone
Or marble
Or bronze,
We were carved
By loving hands,
Replicas of those
Who lived once
In our books
And in our lands.
What are we?

A geiserly Riddle

My water sprays
Up and up and down,
But stays here
Going around and around,
A little geiser
Here in town.
What am I?


A Fearsome Riddle

Fearsome creatures
Made of stone
We sit and stare
As you go by,
Two by two
Or all alone.
We never lived
And cannot die.
What are we?

A Well-placed Riddle

Over Paris, over Rome
We shine to lead
The sailors home.
Over America,
Still the same.
We've each a place
And each a name.
What are we?

A Fast Riddle

I run beneath
The ground so fast
No one gets in way.
They get inside me
And usually
Several times a day.
They squish and smush
Or sit relaxed
Until I spit them out.
Then I run beneath
The ground again
With a squeak
And a whiny shout.
What am I?

A Wandering Riddle

I've wandered through Paris
Since who knows when
Carrying ships and food
And men,
Dividing the city
Left and right,
Then slowly drifting
Out of sight.
What am I?

A Moving Riddle

I'll tell you a story
Without one word.
Everything seen
And nothing heard.
Watch me move
And see if you see
What it's saying
To you
Through me.
What am I?

A Useful Riddle

I'm the money
They use in France
From little shops
To banks.
Work a little
Make a lot
And then say thanks.
What am I?

A Famous Riddle

I'm a long loaf of bread
And not too fat.
In Paris, I'm famous
For sure.
Millions sold.
Imagine that!
I'm almost as famous
As her.
What am I?

A Serious Riddle

At the Louvre
Again today
They watch me
Watching them this way.
I don't smile
And they don't smile.
It's more of a
Serious artful style
Of being quiet
Or maybe shy.
Why do they come?
And who am I?

The interactive Mona Lisa - Mona Lips-synch - Exhibition Images in
Paris - Cité des Sciences, France

A Beautiful Riddle

Pictures made
Of colored glass
Tell you stories
One by one.
Inside and out
We're beautiful,
Especially in
The morning sun.
What are we?

A Towering Riddle

My flying buttresses
Really don't fly
Though my twin towers
Are towering
And quasimodo,
Hunching by,
Covers his ears
And with a cry hells
"Oh, the bells! The bells!"
And I'm sorry
They're so overpowering.
And who am I?

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