Thursday, 8 September 2011

A Riddle

Poor battered bird, whose bright red plumage
is bashed and bruised as the battle goes on.
Sometimes I fly high, and everybody cheers,
sometimes the hunters catch me, and everybody jeers.
My left-wing feathers are ruffled, my right-wing smooth:
who wants to see me swerve around my tormentor,
and smash into the trees?

6 comments:

  1. Could this perhaps be an insect dance as well?

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  2. Possibly, but I can't see any connection to the answer to the riddle

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  3. A cricket ball, roughed up on one side, smooth on the other for a bit of swing round the bat and into the timbers. Do I get a prize?

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  4. Well done! No prize, but the glory of success.

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  5. I have to say, I didn't want to give the game away so I was cryptic, but I hope it is clear that an insect dance is a cricket ball... and the prize is mine!

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  6. Tim, you're absolutely right. How ironic that having composed a riddle, I didn't spot or solve the riddle in your comment.

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