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 . . .

these days

tomorrow is another chance

but what about today?

11/29/2022                                                                                                               j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

Morning fog limits perspective.
As much surprise as wonder,
as isolating as illuminating,
we naturally want to see further.
Your vantage point stays the same.
Captivated throughout the day,
you may well stand where you are,
only the focal point broadens.Daylight eventually finds its way,
you can easily see the difference.
Darkness will come, it always does,
the view will be different tomorrow.
11/28/2022                                                                                                                                                                                        j.g.l.

be content

hold the image
speak the silence
feel the clarity

11/27/2022                                                                                                                 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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April is Poetry Month

Posted on April 26, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

 

 

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

This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.

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