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.
Category: Uncategorised
I write much like I talk.
I use many words, but only enough to convey my thoughts on whatever subject intrigues me, amuses me, or angers me.
Sometimes the topic is complex and requires a lot of words to explain a multiplicity of angles or reject widely accepted opposing viewpoints. It is not easy, but it is necessary.
I write every day, some days more than others.
Some days the words seem to write themselves and my perspective (or poem) is clear whether I’ve used many words, or just enough.
It may take paragraphs or pages, or something can be said as explicitly or concisely as haiku.
It is what you write
that allows you to explain
what you have to say
Maybe it is the mood of the moment, or perhaps the phase of the moon that allows me to be clearer some days than others in one way or another. Maybe my thought process has been unnecessarily interrupted, or what seemed important yesterday (or three hours ago) is not as immediate when the pencil hits the page.
You know what I mean?
Say what you mean, and mean what you say.
Write it, then, so it is easily explained.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
Posted on July 3, 2021 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Midnight arrives. No moon, new moon, clouds buffer the sky,
shifting moods, stars align. Where did the day go? Time stands still
without the presence of people, and a sense of substance.
Questions now. We carry into consciousness a dog-eared confusion
never hoped for. The longer it goes, the less you know. You want
little more to ignore the impendent humidity of a Van Gogh night.
Young hearts will find a way
old souls still remain,
but where would you go
if you knew the difference?
Deep breath. Full stop, amidst the barren dreams, night tremors, and
flashbacks casting dispersions on emotions and moments of repose.
Unsteadied in the innocence, unmoved by a prophecy unknown.
Reach out. All, which you see, cannot always be felt. Confronted by
constraints of an ever-changing sky, a complete spectrum of wonder.
All told, there are less reasons to know than less reasons to be.
Young heart will find its way
old soul knows the pain,
now would you go there
if you knew the difference?
© 2016 j.g. lewis
