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.
Decidedly Uncertain
Posted on September 18, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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Should I stumble, as I am most certainly to do, pay no attention
to the rip on my trousers, or swollen bruise on my knee. I have many
more scars, and they have become a better part of who I am. As if
character marks on the surface of the antique table, or the
cumulative incidental nicks and scratches on a ’61 Telecaster
lessen the intended beauty and purpose.
If I fall, and you discover me in the gutter, I will not need assistance
returning to my feet, but would appreciate
a hankie to dust off my skin, and perhaps a fresh bandage
to mask the blood spilling from within.
When, at a street corner, I seem stalled or uncertain, please
pass me by. There is no need for directions, as
I am probably just deciding if it is choice or a chance. We come
across many paths, and they all move forward. I have an idea
where I am going, and might later become sidetracked,
or choose a cross street. You would be best thinking
I will someday find my destination, than feeling you had led me astray.
It’s not that I am above asking if uncertain, but
I would find it more purposeful
to step ahead unknowingly, than to have you feel a burden
or responsibility.
Should we cross paths again, and you find me in repose, or
a terminal state of confusion, you would be better off continuing
along the cracked sidewalk. It is not that I wouldn’t enjoy the company,
it’s just that I cannot answer your why. Share a smile, however.
I do collect moments, as souvenirs,
and what better way to remember anybody
than to know you shed a little light.
Later, when you catch sight of me in a park; on the bench;
under a tree, near that fountain, with my camera, or a journal,
please leave me to my silence. Know that poetry
is having its way with me, and I have already shared
the crusts of my sandwich with the pigeons. Generosity comes
in many forms, and I am grateful for each of life’s experiences.
As you take in this fresh autumn chill, do not be concerned
for my welfare. I will find the warmth, as I always do.
Yet, should you feel cold, or uncomfortable, do not hesitate taking
my sweater to cover your shoulders. The garment,
like me, may be tattered and frayed, but in it you will find comfort.
Return it to me when it is no longer useful. I have others.
If I were to unexpectedly bump into you at the market,
and we are as surprised then as we had been when,
remember how we once shared something,
and we are both better off because of it.
We were not strangers, not then, not now.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
