Riddling Away

What slips and squanders,
and has no matter?
Leaves one to ponder,
and rarely flatters?
Is never enough
to go all around,
and often too rough
when finally found?
And where will it go
long after I’m dust?
Another will know
and hopefully trust.
Announce its calling
with melodic chime.
This ever-sprawling,
mystery called time.

 

Tree of Neurons

Seasons pass and memories fall away,
casualties of wind’s torment through the day.
The tree of neurons begs for fertile soil
amidst the drought of life’s constant turmoil.
Fallen leaves betray the former glory,
as details go missing from each story.
If only we could gather all the piles
and savor tightly visions of past smiles.
But time prunes on with wicked precision,
happy moments lost with each incision.
And when tall oak has gone completely bare,
what will remain behind the vacant stare?
Desolation lurking under the shade,
until from fragile seed life is remade.

 

Nicholas Froumis practices optometry in the Bay Area. His writing has appeared in Gravel, Right Hand Pointing, Dime Show Review, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing,Torrid Literature Journal, WestWard Quarterly, Ground Fresh Thursday, Blood and Thunder, Balloons Lit Journal, and The Society of Classical Poets Journal.  Recently, he was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.  He lives in San Jose, CA with his wife, novelist Stacy Froumis, and their daughter.

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2 Responses

  1. Michelle T Simon

    Loved the riddle. The poem, too, was well-written and thoughtful. Thanks for sharing.

    Reply
  2. Wendy Bourke

    These are wonderfully word-smithed, I especially enjoyed the riddle … the build to that final line is masterful. Awesome writing!

    Reply

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