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.
Month: April 2016
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
Posted on April 27, 2016 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Poetry Month
will soon be done
yet a lifetime of poetry
exists
for you and for me
Poetry
read and believe
Posted on April 26, 2016 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Even at lower volume it resonates,
station to station, year to ear,
recounting mere memories. Beyond
weather forecasts and politics,
high school dance, an awkward kiss,
friendships then
now gone amiss
contribute
to a never-ending soundtrack.
Owned by the soul
on spirit radio.
A Mother’s voice, a lover’s scent,
not where it was, but what it meant
and what you know.
Landscape crackles with the night,
turned up
it is
always right.
You cannot negate the silence of
moments hardly since forgotten,
hidden
between volume and verse.
Sun-riddled afternoons, soft snow
in October, hailstorms in June, each
phase of the moon shines.
How
we lived, when they died, always
there, all along.
A soothing tone,
the ever-present comfort, we find
our past in melody, honesty,
and the lyric of a song.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
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April is Poetry Month
something new every day
spread the words
