Ever the darkness, every night or
early morn, a moment for chance,
the time to begin.
Still, we wait.
Incessantly.
We do it again and again, enough
or a lot or as much as we can
if we care to admit it.
Why?
Can’t a shade of mystery simply
take hold, whether we like it
or not?
Must we always seek familiarity?
10/21/2024 j.g.l.
The Moon hangs low,
yet the Sun still rises.
Each day
we have another chance
to shine a little brighter.
Rise up.
Be radiant.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
Today might not be what it is
without yesterday being all
that it was.
In a succession of events,
unplanned or programmed,
rarely do we consider
what has happened,
as it happens.
Sometimes we speak less
about things that matter
as we think we have
more time, as such.
Oftentimes
we do not speak of
things we should
as they are happening,
in the time that remains.
In the time we are given,
the present persists.
10/15/2024 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.
Devious minds, intimacy in kind, we
struggle with familiar strangers. All of us,
each one of them.
Discomfort is obvious, bewildering.
The greater the distance, the closer
it comes to moral destruction.
Ironically, we have lost so much faith.
Confidence or insecurity, one in the same,
depending on the view.
Wisdom found in the history books; rarely
do we crack the spines. Politicians and thieves now
the easiest marks. Poor excuses.
Everybody wants something, and somebody,
to blame. Vast nations of nobodies remain
unaccountable for perennial shame.
You can’t tell me anything, anytime,
that will make a difference. Why
would I listen?
I can be nothing, or nobody, to you
so I need not provide a reason. Fact.
Few have the information
Nobody knows. Few care. I am silent.
What can I say? Still you ask. Requests
fall on closed ears.
Noise. Always with the queries,
insecurity always there. Ever-present.
We know so little of each other.
I too have questions. Always. I often do
Tell me about your problems,
tell me about you
© 2018 j.g. lewis
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
– Emily Dickinson
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.