A tower, a spire, red and white Not as a dwelling but still bright It is a store, but not the kind Often easy to find, if you look in the right place It’s big and tall, or low and concealed Used to feed or starve, depends on the definition

I am full of holes, but I can still hold water. What am I?

though you know me, i’m ordinary i am one deceptive berry not fused together, though we’re friends i’m large enough to fill your hand wars waged by titans in my thrall just pick me up to make a call

I hold ships steady, headlines ready, and keep your thoughts from drifting away. One sinks deep, one speaks the news, one keeps you grounded when you lose.

Find me at your core, Or through which an African or Indian beast would snore, Or in which your clothing to store, Or from which a mighty oak's branches can soar. If you add eight to me I sound awfully short. What am I ?