You wander.
We all do.
Uncertainty can often
blur your surroundings.
Unclear.
The map is always there,
the lines signify the path
you need to follow.
You simply have to find
the direction.
It is all in your hands.
© 2017 j.g. lewis
unclear
gr@ffiti
Anguish or confusion,
sometimes it is the way.
Anxiety takes over.
What else can you say
as you try to put aside all
the feelings that dog you
anyway. No pain today.
Try as you might to
see your way through.
No pain. Not today.
09/14/2023 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
There is very little that can be said about Eric Clapton that hasn’t already been said; except I saw him last night.
I’ve been listening to the musician, in all stages of his career, over the past five decades and he has been around even longer than that.
Through the years I’ve grown to appreciate Clapton more as a performer, recording artist, and as one of the greatest guitarists of all time, but I’ve never seen him live; until last night.
He was everything (and more) that I expected, playing selections from his lengthy career, and paying homage not only the blues artists who have influenced him but also to friends no longer with us.
Clapton and his band kicked of the Toronto concert with a cover of The Band’s The Shape I’m in, a fitting tribute to his longtime Canadian friend Robbie Robertson. Then, later, a tune he once recorded with Tina Turner: Tearing Us Apart.
The show was filled with both popular hits and selections you could tell he felt like playing. With a catalogue like Clapton’s there could have been even more hits, but he did what he had to do.
At age 79, Clapton’s seemingly effortless prowess on electric and acoustic guitar was both mature and effective. There were a lot of “wow” moments.
It was quite an evening.
What else can I say?
09/11/2023 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.
Mondays are just Young Fridays
Posted on April 12, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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Days keep moving forward
and still we patiently wait
for another shoe to drop, the
morning alarm, correct words
or proper moment, courtesy
or a cure (at least a sign); we
want to feel safe from harm
or harassment, having already
tasted too much.
We wait for the courage,
attitudes to change, still sensing
delay or simply finding it strange
(and it may ever have been).
We don’t catch a break, can’t get
past the dire situation we were
sure we could easily outlast.
Waiting it out,
we cannot find the time, we
waited too long, yet continue
waiting for minutes to pass.
Waiting for when we will not
have to temper or examine
our response, knowing or
expecting something else is
coming. When will we get there?
Why does it take so long?
Time waits for no one.
We all wait for time.
04/12/2021 j.g.l.
