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 . . .

look forward

The Tulips at St. James Park have run their course, the bulbs dug up and stored away until planting this fall.
    Right now it is just dirt, but I can feel potential.
    In the coming days, gardeners will fill the plant beds with a fresh crop of flowers to see us through the summer. I am anticipating beautiful things.
    Over the past couple of years, St. James Park has become a regular part of my landscape. It began during the COVID lockdown when I found myself passing through the park on my daily walks around downtown Toronto. It was more than a habit.
    The park became an oasis in my day; comfort within the concrete of the city. The shade of the magnificent trees always gave me a reason to stop.
    Sometimes I would sketch the flowers and trees, write a poem when the muse called out, or simply spend time with my journal or my camera.
    Some days I would just sit, as I did yesterday and the day before. Some days you only have to listen or look around.
    Yesterday, I noticed the water has been turned on in the bird bath after a two-year absence. It’s not quite a fountain but I know I’ll find myself, at some point, wasting time with my camera and capturing birds as they refresh themselves in the heat of the day.
    I look forward to it; time well-wasted is good for the soul. It’s always nice to have a place where there is the potential to do just that.

06/02/2023                                                                                                                   j.g.l.

?

We live in a world of what ifs.
What if we did something else,
or what if we weren’t there (as
sometimes we shouldn’t be
when it comes down to the
wrong place at the right time).
What if it never happened?
What if we had responded
differently or if we had taken
the advice we were told?
Would we have been so bold?

05/30/2023                                                                                        j.g.l.

Remembrance.

As it is, not
as we wish it to be.

You have days
to think back on,

and you do…

05/25/2023                                                                                           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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Posted on November 28, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

 

Enlight1

Let’s go out tonight, drink
warm beer, listen
to mediocre music
and spit
on the dance floor. Nothing Fancy.
Just a place
with people we don’t know,
where we can be anonymous.
A place
we can smile.
We haven’t done that, really,
for a while.
There are a few places
we could go. Not The Rex, no,
the music is too fine and it’s usually full,
the line-up is too long, and the service
too slow. The music
would be a distraction. Tonight
all that matters is you and me.
We don’t have to talk, not
about the past, or
what’s been growing
in our minds. We can sit silent,
and smile.
That’s just fine.
Let the night
tell it’s own story.
How about that place, further
down Queen, the crowd
is a little rougher and
the music gets loud. Often the cops
take a tour of the room, but it’s good,
it’s okay. It doesn’t mater, if it’s now.
We can drink
to any sorrows, or
find laughter when we can. Casual.
No need to dress to the nines, like
maybe a seven, or eight.
You always look good. I’ll be me,
a wrinkled shirt and shabby jeans.
We’ll blend in
with the scene, the
kind of comfortable where we know
where we’ve been.
No need to talk,
we can soak up the bluesy,
some say sentimental, groove,
and we’ll watch the drunks sway
to the tunes
as Bad Luck Woman plays with
an off-key bass, but a lot of heart.
Romance rekindled, lovers
or strangers, even this crowd,
immune to the danger.
It get’s loud, hard to talk,
but the night tells it’s own story
narrated by misfits, and mothers,
smoking cigarettes
at the edge of the entrance,
talking about
where the money goes, what
went wrong
and how the Leafs
might do it, this year. Maybe.
All important stuff.
With the occasional shatter
of a glass on the floor, as wizened
old hippies shout out for
more.
More of what? We don’t know
we don’t care,
we need this time
to say nothing, to clear up the air.
It’s good, it’s fine, it’s the night
we need to shake off silence,
let thoughts of the past go to rest.
No need to discover
if our emotions are addressed.
Order another round of
watered-down draft, and
drink a toast to
the moon. Let’s go out
tonight
and let’s do it soon.
                                                  © 2015 j.g. lewis

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