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.
I have been listening to the blues a lot lately. It’s music I’ve always enjoyed to a degree, but with a greater interest over the past months than I have for decades, if ever.
This is pure, honest music with several distinct avenues, and history is full of amazing artists who have shaped what we listen to now.
It’s music I need to hear more of. It is music I need to know more about.
Lately I’ve been listening to one musician in particular, a songwriter I was drawn to when I heard a tune off his first album in 1992 on MTV. At that time, I had no idea I’d be craving to hear more of his music, almost 30 years later, as I am right now.
Chris Whitley was the real deal, with the sweetest voice, who played the guitar as naturally as he breathed. It wasn’t accomplished ‘guitar-god’ musicianship, authentic rhythmic picking and strumming. The man knew his way around a National steel guitar. At times with a shade of alt rock, Whitley played the blues, and you feel it as you would Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, or Robert Johnson.
It’s that natural.
Lyrically, the skinny Texan paints a landscape of hardship and humanity like few songwriters of his generation can, or have.
I’ve been digging this dead man’s blues.
Whitley, sadly, died of lung cancer in 2005 at the age of 45.
There are more than a dozen albums to his credit from a 25-year career, and I’ve been trying to find them.
I lost my copy (and lament the loss) of the Living With The Law, the compact disc I purchased in ’92. That album earned the man two Billboard top forty entries, and it was, easily, his most commercially-success effort. He was respected by so many musicians, and mourned by many more after his passing.
I picked up his second album, Din of Ecstasy somewhere in my travels this year, and I lucked out in finding a copy of Terra Incognita last week. I’ve been searching the bins, regularly, at Dead Dog Records, and Sonic Boom, even both locations of Into the Music when I was in Winnipeg a month ago, and I’m on a mission to find as much of his music as I can.
You can find a significant body of his work on You Tube, even a few complete albums, but I, as a semi-serious collector, want tangible, tactile recordings; vinyl or compact disc.
Of particular interest are the acoustic albums, but, right now, I’m pleased to find anything.
It’s rare that I would become this fanatical about one particular artist, but Whitley’s music is that good, that original, and that scarce.
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.