Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

a daily breath

  • snail mail

    A note from afar, a note from
    a friend, something in the mail
    that’s not a bill, or a reminder,
    or a pizza menu.
    Correspondence. A surprise,
    something personal and
    appreciated. 
    Snail mail, you get less and less 
    in this age of instant. 
    Too many people are too busy 
    to drop a note to let you know 
    what’s going on.
    It takes time.
    Of course, an e-mail is immediate 
    but it does not have the same 
    effect as a letter, or it will get lost 
    in all that clutter and confusion 
    in your inbox. 
    Snail mail is an unexpected smile.
    Send a letter to someone today, 
    just because. It may take a while 
    to get there, but some words are 
    worth waiting for.

    © 2019 j.g. lewis

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  • trying

    I am trying.
    to look for colour
    in a black and white world
    where everything seems 
    grey, muted, tired, 
    or threadbare.
    I’m trying to be optimistic.
    Even the tulips are trying 
    to shed some light over 
    the cool, wet earth. 
    Even they have 
    taken time to bloom.
    Even I took my time 
    to notice.

    © 2020 j.g. lewis

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  • imperative

    Soft voices. Gentle expression. 
    Grief fastened to each whisper, 
    ever the sentiment.

    This is not the first time.

    Sympathy flows, reservoir of
    emotion. Kindness embraced.

    Soothing words 
    the placebo effect, for nothing 
    replaces what you know.

    Nothing exists now 
    to compare it to.

    This is not the last time.

    Ever the thought, ever 
    the imperative. Before, of course, 
    we had the time.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

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  • global warning

    © 2021 j.g. lewis

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  • an impression

    Perspective, 
    perception, space
    between each line.
    The subject
    bare, a body
    in its most poetic form.
    Two-minute sketch,
    a pose,
    little time to see behind
    the image.
    Like any other person,
    a life, nobody truly knows.
    Exposed. Angles and 
    curves, skin, illustration,
    details, expression,
    impression
    of all that is there, and
    what is accounted for. 
    Here. Now.
    Depiction of a moment,
    reality marked
    by seconds.
    A figure captured
    on paper. Briefly.
    Deliberate, though 
    inconclusive, pencil stroke
    softening, straightening,
    shading, sorting out
    what is on display.
    Temporarily.
    Art is not 
    what is there,
    rather what you see.
    Time defines authenticity.
    Another page, a different pose. 
    Two minutes; all you know.

    © 2017 j.g. lewis

    April is Poetry Month

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