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.
by Kayla Harrison
Google defines the act of “mothering” as, “bringing up with care and affection” or “giving birth to.”
Though I am not a mother to children, I am still a mother.
I am a mother to my ideas, to the words I write down on a page, to my stories. I am a mother to my kindness, making sure it’s birthed in every conversation. I am a mother to my body, giving it all that it needs to survive.
I am a mother to my soul, nurturing it with good music and sunshine.
Like my own mother, I have a heart that beats with passion, a heart that knows it beats not for me, but for others. I give what I have to those that don’t.
I am a mother to those closest to me, making sure they know they are loved.
I am a mother to those I don’t know, those I see on the streets with no home.
I am a mother to those struggling to find hope, those that cry out wondering if anyone hears them. I am a mother to those begging for something to make them feel again.
Like my own mother, I just want everyone to be happy.
I want everyone to know someone cares.
I want everyone to see they’re more than their past and their mistakes.
Being a mother is more than having children.
It’s feeling — maybe a little too much some days.
It’s caring for something or someone with all that you have.
It’s putting time and effort into making a work of art — a masterpiece. It’s loving, with every ounce of being.
I care and I feel and I love. I create and I mold.
I hug and I hold tight.
And though I am not a mother to children, I am still a mother.
2018 Kayla Harrison
Kayla Harrison is a Writing Arts graduate student at Rowan University, editor at The Urban Howl, and freelance writer for Business News Daily. Her goal in life is to find those who’ve lost their sense of wonder and guide them to rediscovering it. To Kayla, reading is a way of discovering the world, and writing a way of making sense of it all. To learn more about her and her writing, check out her blog insearchofthewritedirection.weebly.com
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.