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.
Month: April 2024
As if this prose would disappear
like acid rain, last week’s paycheque,
or the Ford Pinto.
I will undoubtedly forget or move on
to a new concern, overlooking recurring
supermarket mass shootings, a fentanyl
crisis, or cautionary tales as society
remains as calm as it is corrupt.
We seem to reliably take advice from
televangelists with Brylcreem-slick
schemes or deleterious demagogues,
while ignoring the poet
who speaks ostensibly
not of spring,
but of the dread instead.
The patina of the words dull in
perpetuity and still they attempt to
sum up happenstance emotions
caught within disarming actualities.
They, poets or society itself, cannot
know any better when speaking
of so much worse.
04/30/2024 j.g.l.
April is Poetry Month
it happens every year
This search for wholeness, an
unforgiving quest to find a
natural state in a world of
compromise, deceit, and fate.
My self, my view, my impulse
or intention too far beyond
what I am or have now.
Deep thoughts, a deeper longing
for an uncomfortable truth
mainly comprised of falsehoods.
What is behind this fragile shell?
What has it done to protect me?
04/29/2024 j.g.l.
Posted on April 28, 2024 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
A poem records the state of being
from one writer to the next. We
visualize, even empathize with the
subject and the stance. We try
to understand the observations.
Poetry transforms us.
Colours change with the days and
attitudes allowed inside the words
under the same sky. We relate
to the surroundings differently
as we comprehend each poem.
Will we see what is there?
08/28/2024 j.g.l.
