Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

original content and images ©j.g. lewis

a daily breath...

A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Mondays are just young Fridays
Posted on October 25, 2021 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment

It’s not just the rain, but also the cold that begins to define our days.
   Temperatures have been dropping, single digits overnight, a little lower each night.
   It gets to the point where an extra blanket on the bed will not provide the warmth required, or a sweater will not take away that chill building up inside these four walls.
   It’s time to turn on the furnace.
   This is the time of the year when the lyrics of “No Time”, a song by The Guess Who, begin to stream in my head:
“Seasons change and so do I.”
   The changing colours of my landscape are part of it, but the rain drives the point home.
   It’s not just wet; it’s cold and damp.
   And it will only get colder, and wetter, then worse.

10/25/2021                                               j.g.l.

Posted on October 24, 2021 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment

                 or the city.
We live where
we live.
The country
                       is large,

populated by
a nation of consumers.


by misfits
and dreamers and
some of us
                     who care.

Didn’t we all
at one time?


we learn as we grow,
we forget where we go.

10/24/2021                                     j.g.l.

Look Away
Posted on October 23, 2021 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment

Gather, you beggars. Assemble 

like pigeons, seeking morsels of kindness 

on these filthy city streets. We notice but do not acknowledge.  

Or apologize. 


I cannot deal with all I see. 


Any spare change? No answer. No chance.  

I saunter by in my warm parka, well-rested, belly full 

of breakfast. I know no hunger, though not immune  

to the pang. Sunglasses shield my eyes.  

I have witnessed too much. 


There, but by the grace of God, go I. 


They remain. Unrecognizable 

even to those who have loved them. A person’s sister, somebody’s  

brother, somebody’s child. A somebody; 

another vacant bed or private hell 

another excuse or story to tell. 


We do not want to hear. 


Nor dare to breathe. Ask no questions. 

I am only what I ask myself to be. If 

charity begins at home, what then of the homeless? Nothing. 

I know where I will sleep tonight. 


Ashamed. I do little but look away. 


Filthy pigeons stare back.  

Then scatter. 


©2021 j.g. lewis