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 . . .

11/05/2024

Mondays are just young Fridays

What happens when you step away 

from the everyday, for a while 

(or longer)?

A new locale, an unfamiliar bed, an 

alternative view overhead 

there is always another way instead;

at least there will be this week.

Even a wristwatch looks different today 

for deadlines have no purpose or place 

this week. 

A well-deserved break, to say the least.

 

11/04/2024                                                                                                                  j.g.l.

cloud songs

What of today, tomorrow

or next week?

   What about the weary,

the impoverished, and the meek?

   What becomes the answer or

the validation that you seek?

11/01/2024                                                                                                  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.

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Words For A Father

Posted on June 17, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

IMG_8442

Always words I wanted to say.
Even now, they can’t stain the page.
Whys and whens, I might never know
if I don’t say,
if I couldn’t find the words, or some time,
to ask my father.

Forever a distance I could never cross.
More than a few steps, questions lost,
ifs, ands, or buts, I dared not to mention.
How could I, then?
Or now? If I didn’t find the time, or the words
for my father.

There have always been years, months and days
I never found the time, or the way.
The fault is mine, tongue-tied.
Can I speak, now?
Or ever? Time is a barrier to words
with my father.

A love held back, not purposely so.
It’s my fault, I know it’s there, I’ve felt it grow,
still I can’t, so it seems, make myself known.
How can I, now?
How would he know? Does he? Do I
know my father?

There is a will to utter sentences in my head,
to say what needs to be told, has to said.
I’d like to think he realizes what holds me back.
I understand him less,
than he knows me. How can he?
He is my father.

I was supposed to ask, supposed to say,
but never did. Was it meant to stay that way?
The clock has expired, true nature of time.
Words unspoken.
Unrealized. Thoughts remain mine.
Not my father’s.

Did he know why I needed my time?
Questions then would always remind.
Maybe he thought it best I find the answers
on my own.
It’s probably right, words meant to remain
with my father.

 

Words and thoughts change over time, even those you feel you cannot express. The bulk of this poem was written in late 2012. The last two stanzas were just added. The words were never spoken, yet the poem is complete. Or maybe it just now provides closure? Father’s Day is about remembering, and I do. And I am. Peace and love Dad.

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