My first letter is in sea but not in ocean,
The second is in change but not in motion.
My third letter in boat but never in ship,
And the fourth is in travel as well as in trip.
The fifth letter is in dark but not in caves,
And my whole is a triangle popping up from the waves.
What am I?
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky,
Atop a tender strand,
Rising from the land,
'Til killed by maiden's hand.
Perhaps, as a token of love.
Perhaps, to say goodbye.
What is it?
Used to threaten, used to defeat. Sometimes it grows, sometimes it shrinks. Used to conquer, used to protect. It marks your downfall, it marks your success. The true god of war, the creator of mess. What is it?
I wiggle and I cannot see,
Sometimes I'm underground, and at times on a tree.
I really don't want to end up on a hook,
I turn into a person when combined with a book.
What am I?