I am a stationary storm, Whose spinning teeth rewrite the form. I crush the many into one, And vanish when the melding's done. What am I?

I speak of allegiance without a sound, Bound to a mast high above the ground. Remove my first letter, a gamer's deep woe, I dance in the gale when the high winds blow. What am I?

Ring. Board. Don. What word can these three share?

Growing up in poverty, luxuries were few, but don't clean this at suppertime, then woe be to you!

I rise without being called. A bubble with no bath. Poke me and I punish you, I'm friction's aftermath. What am I?