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 . . .

damn truth

We do not touch the money, now
only digits on a screen. Ingredients
in our foods unknown, or what
scientists contribute to the scheme.
Price at the pump keeps going up,
still our cars can’t seem
to get enough.
Politicians are not worth knowing, or
deeds in which they partake, sin or
scandal widely-known, we
elect them anyway.
Damn truth be told,
between utter lies; they won’t salute
the dead, so many innocents die.
We won’t wash our hands, but
still waste the water
and share the blame.
We don’t care if we don’t want to,
our days continue just the same.

© 2018 j,g, lewis

sins and sorrows

04/11/2024                                                                                            j.g.l.

April is Poetry Month

Mondays are just young Fridays

Waiting for the darkness, but
not from the night. Waiting
for darkness to squelch the light
of the day.
Rare and strange and still
somewhat familiar, the Moon
caught crossing a path,
expectedly today.
Vision enigmatic, but solemn
and static. Naturally occurring.
We live with the darkness
however unnerving.

04/08/2024                                                                                   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.

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How Does It Feel From The Inside

Posted on November 27, 2021 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Collar upturned, scarf scratching

against the skin, eyes tearing as furious winds

find their way, we protect ourselves

from the intermittently indifferent month

of November. As only we can.

Atmosphere duly moistened

by pent up frustration in joys not found,

unfostered friendships, and decline

in the value of our self-worth,

deceit flows freely in these darker hours.

Our hardened hearts impervious

to even favoured words, we can hardly

hear ourselves speak, and better we not.

Each question delivered during these days

cannot summon an answer; even decisions

arrived at in November will wait.

December, with its warmer spirit and

delicate snow is then a softer month

for broken promises or shattered hearts.

We count not the days, but tolerate

this month of indecision, our time instead

sorting out emotions, impositions,

and lack of interest.

How does it feel from the inside?

The bitter cold slams against our silhouette,

while souls cry out for attention, admonition,

gentle hands or comfortable shoulder.

Even young bones creak loudly against

this change of season.

Even old souls forever remember

the intolerable month of November.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

 

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