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
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.
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.
Walls surround me; people tell me, even ask me
where I’ve been. I can’t find the answers, or
the reason from within. If home is the place
where you lay your head, I’ve got no room left
for what goes on when the walls are closing in.
No longer seeking safety or salvation, but simply
common ground. There were never second chances the
first time around. It’s been years since I have come home,
though I’m not without my blame, I’m not without
my judgment and not without my shame.
No reminders. No residue.
No solutions, nor the pain.
More a feeling than a destination, home is not
about geography. Even less the physical location.
The whisper of home gets hard to understand,
even mundane decisions become more difficult
when you take life in your own hands.
Driving forward, moving slowly, the place between
here and this. Listen to music you chose, the next
track on the disc. Melancholy melody, even lyrically
it stokes a chord. We all remember taking chances,
but too often forget about the risk.
Nothing there, nothing lost.
Nothing left. Nothing gained
Of course I’m still dreaming of home, it helps me
pass the time. Past mistakes and memories,
I own them; they are all mine. My mind often loaded
with gentle thoughts of you, yet it still provides
no direction of where I’m going to.
©2017 j.g. lewis
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.