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.
This Awakened State
Posted on April 11, 2021 by j.g.lewis
Leave a comment
Feeble dreams, then none at all.
Reckless. Restless, what
soothes your soul on nights
when darkness
boastfully intrude? Thoughts
expand and contract, you inhale
then exhale, though time
is rarely true. Or precise.
Neither comfort, or interlude,
as the mind wanders to places
you have never been
nor wish to return. Anxiety
or worry, how can you know?
Insomnia.
Isolation. Overreaction.
Contemplation. Will you read
or recite stanzas from your
puzzling past trying earnestly
to recreate placid images that
take you away from this
awakened state?
Poetry shows concisely
how others have suffered,
how they have healed.
Find rhythm or the rhyme.
Close your eyes, deeply
breathe, take stock of
the certain and the sublime.
Poetry knows.
You have been there before.
04/11/2021 j.g.l.
April is Poetry Month
all poetry all the time
right here
poetry every day
