sunlight navigates its way
between
what was and what
is still to come
friday
not just any day
you find the freedom
to notice
transformation happening
as it should
look up
will you see what you should
or observe
all you have neglected
04/26/2024 j.g.l.
Qualifying questions, remedial response.
Knowledge of situations often haunt.
What we know or have been told.
We tell ourselves we just don’t know.
Answers formed by thoughts untold.
Rumour and misinformation often sold.
Conspiracy theories tend to rule the day.
Bare truth and logic will get in the way.
04/22/2024 j.g.l.
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
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.
I have never been to the Orient, or anywhere near that corner of the planet. Yet, with some frequent irregularity, there is a repeated scene in one of my regular infrequent dreams.
It is tranquil, a sea or large body of water, and yet the sound is not waves but a continual drip echoing into my psyche. It is too noisy to see past the place I’ve been to so many times before, but I can taste the silence.
It is only in my dreams. As much as it is relaxing, it is confusing because, apparently, we only dream of what we know and what we see in life
I’ve never been to the Orient, and this dream has become familiar enough that I may now recognize the lucidity of it all.
There is safety in this dream, and serenity. I crave both in my life. Maybe that is why I go there.
I go there often.
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.