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 . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

Pick up what’s left of the shadow that has been trailing you for a week or three, the one you have noticed even when the sun hasn’t been shining as it should.

   Of course there have been distractions (there always is), even as your nerves are beginning to fray, and all those anxieties still follow you, surprisingly so, on any old day.

   Intermittent rain washes away hopes and plans dreamed on and diminished now. Still, you have the time and, more importantly, you have the mind to make it all happen. You’ve got something more important to say.

 

10/14/2023                                                                                                                               j.g.l.

 

on its own

Poetry is power, and poetry is
a weakness, as much cowardice
as courage. A delightful
contradiction, it sucks at your
soul, and, like a fussy infant,
cannot wait to be fed. More.
Not to be silenced until sated.
Nourished then,
it so slips into gentle slumber,
life’s rhythm allowing dreams and
sweet solace, only to wake soiled
and screaming. Comfort comes
with a soothing voice, gentle touch,
and reassurance. Flesh and blood,
innocent for only a while, it grows
alongside you, until it stands
on its own.
Poetry.
You give it life, then it to you.

© 2016 j.g. lewis
                                                   

Mondays are just young Fridays

One year since. . . 

   The death toll rises each day in this certain uncertainty. A geopolitical conflict, its consequences spilling out across this planet and onto the streets of my city. Distanced from the direct atrocities of another war, it is more than tension we feel in the neighborhoods where we live.

   Every day the headlines speak to me. Every day there are more questions than answers.

   How many bombs?

   How many dead?

   How many prayers?

   How many times, in my lifetime, have I heard about the possibility of Middle East peace?

   I, still, can only try to understand.

   I too live with the fear, the grief, and the polarization of it all.

 

10/07/2024                                                                                                                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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Just Like It Seems

Posted on April 27, 2016 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

_MG_3561 - Version 3

          When does a wave become a wave and when
                       is it only water                    When does a thought
             become an idea or                   when is it simply fodder for            creations and goals
                      is it only a dream                 when is          what is
                                       just as it seems
                                 If you know          what you know         and still can’t see through
                do you wait and    only wonder if there is more       you       can       do
                                       Where are the signs you have got it all wrong
                if you think through the process         and it seems too far gone
                             Who can decide if you can’t see your self
                   What can you say when there is no one        to tell
                           Does blood in the vein know you exist
                 will the heart continue beating          beyond the eclipse         Can August as
                              we know it         ever spill into June
                                          and how can forever       feel       like it is soon
                                 How could we tell through the sun-drenched illusions
                         Why would I stop you
                                                                 from jumping
                                                                                      to conclusions
                        When does a breath become a sharp gasp                and how
                                                   will you know if it will be your last
                                  So little is written                   and so much is said
                                      you can’t pull it together        nor find a thread         of truth
                                beyond passion                    a sole purpose you know
                                                 How can you be sure when you say it is so
                                           Do you take words at face value         can you
                                                     know what they mean
                                                you speak them so often                  just like it seems
                    science keeps trying to convince us                     the sun will get hotter
                          Will it bring us more waves             or
                                                                                         bring us
                                                                                   more water
                                                                                             ?

© 2016 j.g. lewis

                                                        

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