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: October 2016
Hopefully well-rested and invigorated
by a change of pace or your weekend
adventures, you greet the new day with
all the enthusiasm you can muster.
Over the past week you may have
suffered a few setbacks, or lost a little
ground, but that can only be expected
when life moves too quickly. All too
often there is too much coming at you,
or too much to do.
Look past the dread or the frustrations
that tarnished previous attempts. We’ve
all got something that is not quite right,
or not quite there, and you can be assured
it will still be around this week.
But if you approach everything with a
fresh perspective, things will look a bit
different. Write down what you want to
accomplish, and scribble out some options.
Don’t dwell on past complications, but
harvest new ideas. Start from scratch, if
necessary, and squeeze the possibilities
out of every new way, and each new day.
Start afresh. Begin your day with a sharp
pencil and a sharp mind.
Use each to its fullest potential.
j.g.l.
Posted on October 21, 2016 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
What do you remember?
What can’t you forget?
cloud songs
Can I whisper
or wonder
what I do not know?
Afraid, of course,
of where it can go. To realize
what is not there
on all, or most, or many days
is still so real.
Lines on your face.
Memories disappear. Erased.
Others fall out of favor
or onto the page.
Words unspoken still leave
a mark on your past,
your lips
and lifeline.
Will you ever tell?
Release the smile
holding back thoughts
meant only for yourself.
j.g.l.
Posted on October 20, 2016 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Announcements and scattered
information of little consequence,
offers for things I don’t need
or hadn’t even considered, and
now make no sense.
Random requests for details
that do not mater, will not make
a difference, and are of little value.
Demands on my time, with
no true replies. Nothing really
worth anything, not today in
any way. Just junk taking up
space and leaving little room
for anything important. No news.
Not even a voice selling me
another point of view, trying
to convince me of unoriginal ideas
and common thought.
I can’t be sold, I won’t be bought.
There is nothing brilliant and
nothing bold. My mind, like my
mailbox, is on overload. What is
inside need not be opened. Nothing
to say, nothing special. Not today.
j.g.l.
