Having plenty can make you feel grand, But pulling it in public is seldom well-planned. It bends sometimes, yet stands erect, Always capped with a head, you'd expect. It gives you nerve, keeps you steady and fine- Name it carefully: what is mine?

I have no voice, yet I’m full of names. I never move, yet traffic flows on me. I can be long or short, rich or poor, Homes face me, footsteps mark me, and cities are built upon me. What am I?

In the bathroom, I'm a helpful tool, with a funny name that rhymes with bunger. What am I

as they sprinkle me in the ocean they, cry once more. this is the last they'll see of me, i will be no more. but sometimes out of me comes new life. a little flame that is hope of triumph over that night

I make the guard stand in his place, Spur the courier to run his race, The backbone of your backyard’s border, I denote what’s later in the order.