Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

original content and images ©j.g. lewis

a daily breath...

A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .

cloud songs

        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.

Mondays are just young Fridays

A wish for words more delicate and 
refined will only lead to
an unnecessary edit, constrained curiosity,
and a smudge of indifference.
Emotions scoured from the page,
its patina reflective now of a chaotic mind, 
you are no longer (or never have been) 
satisfied with what is there.
Speaking freely, nowhere near the truth, 
a humane reaction may not be soothed.
Not always. No matter what.
No longer plain and simple. Perhaps
it never was?
You question the questions.
The flaws in your self can only add up
to a greater expression of your being.

04/15/2024                                                                                       j.g.l.

 

April is Poetry Month
flaws and all

 

damn truth

We do not touch the money, now
only digits on a screen. Ingredients
in our foods unknown, or what
scientists contribute to the scheme.
Price at the pump keeps going up,
still our cars can’t seem
to get enough.
Politicians are not worth knowing, or
deeds in which they partake, sin or
scandal widely-known, we
elect them anyway.
Damn truth be told,
between utter lies; they won’t salute
the dead, so many innocents die.
We won’t wash our hands, but
still waste the water
and share the blame.
We don’t care if we don’t want to,
our days continue just the same.

© 2018 j,g, lewis

easier than it seems

Hypothetically, yet ironically, 
intellectually constructing a poem or 
patch of prose should be far easier 
than it seems.
Even those known to craft delicious, 
heartwarming verse have surely faced 
the dreaded fear of an unscathed page.
Yet, those bards who have risen to the 
challenge, or occasion, with steely
mind, fortitude, and passionate
persuasion have found the strength.
So many any of us struggle with 
ambient thought, perpetual notions, 
recycled emotions barely blatantly 
disguised by foolish promotions 
ending up with feeble attempts at 
stanza, scansion, muted meter 
metronomically fashioning words 
far from adequate. 
Still, we try daily to find even a 
slight modicum of a successful poem, 
whatever that might well be. Each 
line an effort, every day an opportunity 
for more than we bargain for.
 
04/14/2024                                                                         j.g.l.

April is Poetry Month

 

drop in the bucket

little things all add up

takeaway coffee

then another cup

later in the day when

you finally find time

between

obligations and imperatives

always there

drop in the bucket

give and take

back and forth

here and where

the cost of living

truth or dare

04/12/2024                                                                                    j.g.l.

haiku 4 you

08/09/2023                                                                                       j.g.l.

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.

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Hunger

Posted on April 10, 2024 Leave a comment

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

unforeseen origin

Posted on April 3, 2024 Leave a comment

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

Sites

Posted on March 27, 2024 Leave a comment

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

Adventure Ahead

Posted on March 20, 2024 Leave a comment

I bought a new bike. Unexpectedly, even accidentally, I decided on the spot; swiftly, decisively, but not at all thoughtfully.
   I usually take more time selecting which chocolate bar to treat myself to than I did this bike.
   The sale price was attractive, substantially reduced, in a store I don’t frequent often. I was there tending to other matters when this shiny bike caught my eye.
   A recognizable and respected brand name was boldly emblazoned on the cross bar, with a card hanging from the handlebars listing the many, many features.
   Normally, or habitually, I would mull over such a purchase, then leave the store and ponder both the merits and need over a few days. I would read up on the brand and research the model with intense interest in each detail. True consideration takes time, I believe, especially when I expect a product to last me years and years, as my other bike did.
   But not this time.
   I surprised myself.
   I bought the bike, as if it was a textbook case of impulse buying, at a time when I didn’t think I needed any sort of retail therapy. I already have enough stuff, but nothing as shiny and fancy as this new bike.
   I haven’t been cycling as much as I should over the past couple of years, although I had been before that. For many years, upon my move to Toronto, I enjoyed a proximity to bike lanes and bike trails where you can, pretty much, get anywhere. Many times, my weekends were spent exploring the city on a bike.
   It is more than transportation. You see things on a bike that you don’t even notice as you whizz by in a car. Cycling, I believe, is a more humane experience. You feel a connection to the road, hands vibrating with the rough pavement beneath the wheels, as you move at your own pace. It is a tactile experience.
   I took a tumble a few years back. It knocked me senseless, scratched up my arms and legs, smashed a decent pair of sunglasses and cracked the helmet I was wearing at the time. Genuinely feeling the pain, I even went to the hospital emergency room to have my head checked, fearing concussion (or worse).
   I was a mess.
   The incident left scrapes and scabs on my cheek, chin, and nose that proved I was up to something. They took weeks to disappear.
   The scars on my psyche have taken even longer to heal.
   It took a while for me to climb back on the bike that summer. I can’t even remember last year.
   Traffic has truly become a concerning clusterfuck these days in downtown Toronto. Bike lanes have changed, some even eliminated because of all the cranes and construction in the core area. Motorists are notoriously impatient and I’d been hearing too many times about accidents (and deaths) of cyclists.
   This is a dangerous city (in so many ways) and even the route to the safer lakeshore trails can become cluttered and confusing. You’ve got to keep your eyes wide-open. Bicycle versus automobile is not an experience I wish to experience; and there have been several close calls.
   Yet, I wasn’t even thinking about that with the shiny new bike standing before me on the store’s sales floor. All I could feel was my intoxicating need to own it. Right then.
   A new bike for me is now, and has always been, inspiring.
   From the time I learned to ride, all those decades ago, a bicycle has always meant freedom and adventure. Like a kid, I stood in the store on Sunday momentarily dreaming of the glorious trips here and there throughout the city; mindful, of course, of traffic.
   I believe the new bike will inspire me again to get back on the saddle and participate in an activity I have enjoyed my whole life. Of course, I didn’t think about all this at the time of purchase, but I have a great deal since.
   Now I can travel as swiftly as my thoughts.

© 2024 j.g. lewis

misinterpretation

Posted on March 13, 2024 Leave a comment

view obstructed by silence 
mind stimulated with a promise of progress
 
patience knows the pain of uncommon effort
not quite meeting expectations
 
occasionally pieces fit
more often by luck not skill
 
a pattern is not distinct
misinterpretation defies logic
 
any valid solution thwarted by
an inability to see the complete picture 
 
 

© 2024 j.g. lewis

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