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.
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.
At The Time
She, she might not even notice
the beauty she hosts. She
is too busy,
caring, shouldering
responsibilities
others
are less bothered with.
She says she is lost
I am lost too.
It may not be
the same kind
of lost
or we may
show it or feel it
differently
after all, she is a She and I am a He.
She may not even know, in fact
might not care,
that I
know, her beauty.
I’ve not said it, not in the way
she needs to hear,
the way she needs to be seen.
I said I am empty. It’s not the kind
of empty,
the one devoid
of anything substantial,
but it is an empty
that means there is space
to fill.
I didn’t say it.
I didn’t say it
because I am a He and she is a She
and
we might have tried, but I didn’t enough
and God, she was brave and I
was unknowing and honest,
and frightened.
Yes, I was scared (but I didn’t say that)
and rather than say
I just let it go away.
Because she was that She, and I
didn’t wish to be
just another He.
I knew
she deserved more
than ever I could offer,
at least then, and I didn’t say enough.
At the time.
We all are
fighting time.
She questions her age, and I doubt mine too
and
she doesn’t know her beauty
but I certainly do,
So, seven days before I leave
we spent an evening
reading poetry
talking
taking the time.
Still I didn’t say it, because
she was She,
and I
was just me.
©2015 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.