My first three are a word that means a thing that's in this line My last three tighten up your jeans, if gluttonous you're inclined My middle three are homophone for mother of the gods With all my five I'm best postponed, restraint-reward at odds

I get really hot, I’m full of steam, and you usually get inside me when you’re dirty. What am I?

I flip to top heavy to start My innards flowing free A single metric do I mark Then sit still silently

A plastic skin, no Umbrella for you, banana colored protection for your body.

Dreamers know life is not a calamity, But using me and the elements is just a fantasy. And ego and hubris drive one’s vanity To seek gold from lead using . . .