What Am I Riddles to Tickle your Brain
I am the beginning of everything, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place. What am I?
There is a green house. Inside the green house there is a White house. Inside the White house there is a red house. Inside the red house there are lots of babies.
What am I?
Sometimes I am loved,
Usually by the young.
Other times I am dreaded,
Mostly by the old ones.
I am hard to remember,
Also hard to forget.
And yet if you do,
You'll make someone upset.
I occur every day
Everyone has to face me.
Even if you don't want it
To happen; embrace me.
What am I?
Runs over fields and woods all day
Under the bed at night sits not alone,
With long tongue hanging out,
A-waiting for a bone."
What am I?
Fill my bucket, spill my bucket,
Over a plane of snow.
Black the track as I look back,
My footsteps talk but make no sound.
What am I?
I saw an unusual book:
The foreword comes after the epilogue;
The end is in the first half of the book;
The index comes before the introduction.
Name the book.
I can be smooth as silk when you touch me
Yet hard as rock when you hit me
I can be crystal clear
Or dark as pitch
I can be still and silent
Or I can rumble and roar.
What am I ?
I am, in truth, a yellow fork
From tables in the sky
By inadvertent fingers dropped
The awful cutlery cry.
Of mansions never quite disclosed
And never quite concealed
The apparatus of the dark
To ignorance revealed.
What am I?
I will be nice, if you see pics thrice.
I bear fruit of trees, sometimes in 3's.
I am but an arm's length in front of you.
What am I?
I am the outstretched fingers
that seize and hold the wind.
Wisdom flows from me in other hands.
Upon me are sweet dreams dreamt.
My merest touch brings laughter.
What am I?
I love to move around,
But usually not on the ground.
I'm quite strung out when way up high.
I like to sail, but I need to stay dry.
I need air, but not to breathe.
A helpful hand is all I need.
What am I?
I am black of eye and bright of hair
And my feet are firmly in the ground.
I love the sun upon my face
And I follow it around.
When I am dead and gone tis said,
That I will droop real low,
That I will keep the birds well fed,
Standing stiff there in my row.
What am I?
I dig out tiny caves,
and store gold and silver in them.
I build bridges out of silver,
Make crowns out of gold,
But everyone is afraid of me
Even the young and old.
Who am I?