Qualifying questions, remedial response.
Knowledge of situations often haunt.
What we know or have been told.
We tell ourselves we just don’t know.
Answers formed by thoughts untold.
Rumour and misinformation often sold.
Conspiracy theories tend to rule the day.
Bare truth and logic will get in the way.
04/22/2024 j.g.l.
Current Thoughts
Open your mouth, let words
bypass lips. Converse consciously
to brethren or bystanders.
Reach out to
close friends gone amiss.
Be not afraid, not now, of
articulating current thoughts and
accomplishments of which
you are proud, and even your sins
(for we have all owned a few)
might seem far less tragic
from an altered point of view.
Give fresh voice
to insecurities and anxieties hidden
within your self, speak highly of
those dusty dreams
languishing on a shelf.
Past sullen moments cast a
lengthy shadow, short-term
expectations tend to dull down
long-term possibilities.
Talk freely around all you want,
or hope, or desire to be.
Each intention will resonate
with those who wholly believe.
Understanding takes effort.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
April 18th is Poem in Your Pocket Day
a day to celebrate poetry by selecting a poem,
carrying it in your pocket, and sharing with the
friends and strangers who cross your path.
Share a poem wherever the day takes you, as you
would share a smile, a gesture, or your kindness.
Sharing is caring.
April is Poetry Month
take a poem to lunch
Our paths shift, circumstance and
attitude shaping our trajectory.
The company we keep alters both
our outlook and destination.
We are where we are
mainly because of who we are
and whom we are with.
04/16/2024 j.g.l.
Have you written your saddest story,
or are you living it now?
Do you keep track of days in a diary?
Does the ink run like rain, entries full
of temptation or pain that upsets the
balance of this so-called life?
When you reread the words, can you
recall emotions that cut like a knife
through the bullshit and bafflegab
you have continually endured.
Does it still hurt?
Does it settle on the page in the
form of a poem, will it forever remain
a secret never to be known to those
who inspired feelings you simply
cannot forget?
Can you wear the scars with pride,
or will you always regret?
04/21/2024 j.g.l.
April is Poetry Month
it is all about emotion
Who will write the eulogies
for those taken far too early? Too
young, unsuspecting, trusting
it was just another day.
Cheeks flush with joyous youth
never again revealed. At seventeen
you never know what lays ahead;
still once they had a chance.
How will we write the eulogies
for those now reported dead?
Where will we find the words
lost in prayer, ignored in protest,
or excuses plentiful as guns;
empty as a classroom desk.
We know, only, we never know
when we will last inhale.
Who will write the eulogies
for those left behind. Will they
remember the despair of that day,
or will it be forgotten as we deal
with yet another tragedy, another
unscripted war on a world long ago
stripped of its innocence, grasping
now to any shred of benevolence.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
How often can you document the sun as it sets
repeating, many times over, the glorious feeling
it evokes. Now or when.
Are you not observant of the decay and dissolution
of our world, as it is now, or was then?
Reminders play tricks when you ignore
unmistakable sight.
I have read poets whom write of rust and common
deterioration, oxidation, degradation,
felt day by day. Poems of love, what once was,
left now to suffer the elements.
Can you not feel what they believe?
Has the façade been contaminated by life itself,
or is the sun too bright for you to notice.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
April is Poetry Month
feel what is there
From whence we came and where we go, landscapes
follow, flashbacks flow from childhood homes so far-away,
to skeletal evidence of sorrows, secrets, and songs of yesterday.
Weather-beaten dairies or deeply-faded photographs hrdly hold
mere traces of what was truly there, our minds rush over details
and dialogue of kindred spirits found,
then left along the way.
Do people come and go, or do we?
Faulty fragments of what we have collected
travel with us. Destination to designation; another apartment,
another home, immemorial addresses on report cards, bank
statements, divorce certificate, a parent’s obituary.
Disappointments remain undeniably present and unaccounted for.
Our recollection of fact and fiction, over time, is rarely as accurate
as what it once was. We remember our first phone number, but
must think hard to recall the ones that followed. Even now,
area codes blur from one city to the next.
Where am I now?
Impending move to a familiar place, months away but still
a trace of anxiety. Or is it apprehension?
What will be there when I return?
© 2024 j.g. lewis
You will find my passage clearly marked
with mental breadcrumbs and seeds
encountered between ravens and me.
We are each hungry, seeking attention
from both young women and widows who
may take us in, nature us, share their compassion,
desires, and grilled cheese sandwiches.
Nutrition comes in many forms;
only I will ascertain when I am adequately sated.
Once fulfilled, I shall leave behind my handkerchief
under the table or apple tree, not accidentally, so
I may have a reason to return.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
The greater the body of water,
the more questionable where a wave comes from.
Pebble in a puddle, a most obvious start,
a drip from a drop. Ripple resonates, doubles, then triples.
Evermore a pattern.
The bigger the lake, the more we can see.
Surge and swell on a monumental ocean
changes with the sunset, seaside tide, or a notion.
It ends on the shoreline,
from where does it come?
Unforeseen origin, man-made or natural?
On the stillest of days, wind hardly a whisper,
you will notice a rhythm but rarely the source.
Undertow and currents may alter your course.
True flow you may never know, shining surf leaving you
in its wake. What will it leave behind for another day?
© 2024 j.g. lewis
April is Poetry Month
you will notice a rhythm
Urban sprawl, now vertically inclined,
sacrificing our skyline.
Everywhere we look, sky-high density,
our common view condensed in an
uncommon sense of overdevelopment
and zoning changes.
Our perspective shifts
as familiar landscapes are altered into
sites we have never before seen, but
will grow to know.
The population increases, yet
the humanity of it all is diminished.
Progress is never what it appears to be.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
