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 . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

One year since. . . 

   The death toll rises each day in this certain uncertainty. A geopolitical conflict, its consequences spilling out across this planet and onto the streets of my city. Distanced from the direct atrocities of another war, it is more than tension we feel in the neighborhoods where we live.

   Every day the headlines speak to me. Every day there are more questions than answers.

   How many bombs?

   How many dead?

   How many prayers?

   How many times, in my lifetime, have I heard about the possibility of Middle East peace?

   I, still, can only try to understand.

   I too live with the fear, the grief, and the polarization of it all.

 

10/07/2024                                                                                                                j.g.l.

It’s not nothing

I would like to think it is nothing, at least I’d like to try. I know I can’t, but I will fool myself into believing it was less than what it is (I’m gullible that way).
   Still I know, deep down, it was more than what I was expecting. Certainly it was more than what I was prepared for.
   It’s always something; really, anything is.
   There is something in anything, worthwhile or not, that captures your imagination or sends your soul circling.
   Nothing matters then.
   It is always more than what you were counting on, even when there is nothing to compare it to.
   Always unlike anything else, you try to twist and turn it into something familiar, or something you can relate to, all the while knowing that nothing has been like that, or felt like this: ever.
   Yeah, it’s like that.
   It’s not nothing, but it can’t be everything. . . or maybe it is.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

a deeper conversation

Ever the questions, 

no response, until now. In the wake 

of all that happened all that time ago; 

even recently, as details were 

unearthed convincingly.

Negligently we accept responsibility 

for secrets and sins unacknowledged.

The government, the Church, 

the children. The shock of it all. 

Tears now stain history books. Truth.

A deeper conversation. 

We talked about it, yesterday.

Too long society, 

more specifically “we”, have turned

a blind eye to ways of a world 

we thought we never knew.

Lord knows what they were thinking 

and did nothing.

 

10/01/2024                                                                                                             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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Pencils in past tense

Posted on August 10, 2023 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

I keep all my pencils, I have for years. I keep not only the long, skinny colourful delights, I save what remains; the nubs and mere shadows of the pencils that have served me well.
   A pencil’s life is determined by usage, the firmness (or softness) of its graphite core, and measured by the number of words written on the page. Pressure is always a factor.
   I prefer the efficiency of a pencil with an eraser attached. The pencil shows you how you are progressing, its eraser always a sign of how many (or how few) mistakes you have made.
   When a pencil gets to a certain length and are no longer comfortable to use, I begin afresh with a new sharp tool.
   I used to toss the dead pencils into a box, and then a larger box when it was required. At some point I realized my little friends deserved more than to simply be stowed away in a dark closet.
   I now display pencils suspended in past tense in a series of glass jars. An artful display, perhaps, but more a reminder of what the pencils have done.
   Don’t we all have a collection of things that matter?
   I know many people collect pencils. They keep them whole and proudly marvel at the colour and design, but what’s the point of that?
   Pencils were created to create and communicate. If they are safely kept in a drawer they are nothing more than potential.
   I believe a pencil is more than that.

 

for a shadow

dead pencils
still leave a mark
salvaged from the litter bin
gave most of their everything
      from within
now surrounded
              by cigarette butts
salad oil      tuna tins     phone
messages   hydro bills   coffee
grinds                    orange peel
rotting spinach              or kale
    broken
shoelaces              leftover pain
                    a sad refrain
      still saving a few scant lines
                    of sentiment
for a man
and a night
and a poem
                   for a shadow

© 2015 j.g. lewis

 

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