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 . . .

pocket poem 2024

                 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

cloud songs

        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.

Mondays are just young Fridays

A wish for words more delicate and 
refined will only lead to
an unnecessary edit, constrained curiosity,
and a smudge of indifference.
Emotions scoured from the page,
its patina reflective now of a chaotic mind, 
you are no longer (or never have been) 
satisfied with what is there.
Speaking freely, nowhere near the truth, 
a humane reaction may not be soothed.
Not always. No matter what.
No longer plain and simple. Perhaps
it never was?
You question the questions.
The flaws in your self can only add up
to a greater expression of your being.

04/15/2024                                                                                       j.g.l.

 

April is Poetry Month
flaws and all

 

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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