A carnivorous plant, a liquid pouring vessel, are some of the things I can be. But one of the nine, standing in the middle, is the most cheered version of me.

Meet me at the chapel, Give me a ring, just for fun But know if you do, It can't be undone

I have a blade but I am not sharp. I am a joint that you can not smoke. You will need me to play the harp. You will feel pain if I am broke.

I live at the border between dignity and gravity. In lean times, you stab me for another chance. I keep order by clinging to tension. What am I?

I’m one word hiding two others. Remove my first half and I’m still food. Remove my second half and I become what I mostly am. I’m green where I’m guarded, red where I’m revealed, and named for what fills me, not what flavors me. What am I?