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 . . .

pocket poem 2024

                 Current Thoughts

           Open your mouth, let words
   bypass lips. Converse consciously
   to brethren or bystanders.
       Reach out to
   close friends gone amiss.
       Be not afraid, not now, of
   articulating current thoughts and
   accomplishments of which
   you are proud, and even your sins
   (for we have all owned a few)
        might seem far less tragic
         from an altered point of view.
               Give fresh voice
   to insecurities and anxieties hidden
   within your self, speak highly of
      those dusty dreams
            languishing on a shelf.
   Past sullen moments cast a
   lengthy shadow, short-term
   expectations tend to dull down
   long-term possibilities.
      Talk freely around all you want,
   or hope, or desire to be.
      Each intention will resonate
      with those who wholly believe.
   Understanding takes effort.

© 2024 j.g. lewis

April 18th is Poem in Your Pocket Day
a day to celebrate poetry by selecting a poem,
carrying it in your pocket, and sharing with the
friends and strangers who cross your path.
Share a poem wherever the day takes you, as you
would share a smile, a gesture, or your kindness.
Sharing is caring.

April is Poetry Month
take a poem to lunch

cloud songs

        Our paths shift, circumstance and
              attitude shaping our trajectory.
   The company we keep alters both
       our outlook and destination.
           We are where we are
        mainly because of who we are 
                          and whom we are with.


04/16/2024                                                                              j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

A wish for words more delicate and 
refined will only lead to
an unnecessary edit, constrained curiosity,
and a smudge of indifference.
Emotions scoured from the page,
its patina reflective now of a chaotic mind, 
you are no longer (or never have been) 
satisfied with what is there.
Speaking freely, nowhere near the truth, 
a humane reaction may not be soothed.
Not always. No matter what.
No longer plain and simple. Perhaps
it never was?
You question the questions.
The flaws in your self can only add up
to a greater expression of your being.

04/15/2024                                                                                       j.g.l.


April is Poetry Month
flaws and all


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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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
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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