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Posted on December 17, 2015 by j.g.lewis · Leave a comment

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J.G. Lewis

A writer/photographer living and breathing in the greater Toronto area.

original content and images © j.g. lewis.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.

a daily breath . . .

Mondays are just Young Fridays

Days keep moving forward
and still we patiently wait
for another shoe to drop, the
morning alarm, correct words
or proper moment, courtesy
or a cure (at least a sign); we
want to feel safe from harm
or harassment, having already
tasted too much.
We wait for the courage,
attitudes to change, still sensing
delay or simply finding it strange
(and it may ever have been).
We don’t catch a break, can’t get
past the dire situation we were
sure we could easily outlast.
Waiting it out,
we cannot find the time, we
waited too long, yet continue
waiting for minutes to pass.
Waiting for when we will not
have to temper or examine
our response, knowing or
expecting something else is
coming. When will we get there?
Why does it take so long?
Time waits for no one.
We all wait for time.

04/12/2021 j.g.l.

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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
all poetry all the time
right here
poetry every day

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Nothing Is

Never is
it nothing.

                 Emptiness
       takes on a shape.

Malignant depth
bereft of benevolence,

                sensuously
                 insensitive,

it fills the space
it is allowed.

                   A void.
                 A voice,

as easily
as it is given,

                     it can be
                 taken away.

Within its ambiguity
there may be hope.

04/08/2021                                    j.g.l.

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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 . . .

This Awakened State

Feeble dreams, then none at all.
Reckless. Restless, what
soothes your soul on nights
    when darkness
boastfully intrude? Thoughts
expand and contract, you inhale
then exhale, though time
is rarely true.     Or precise.
Neither comfort, or interlude,
as the mind wanders to places
you have never been
nor wish to return. Anxiety
or worry, how can you know?
                 Insomnia.
Isolation. Overreaction.
Contemplation. Will you read
or recite stanzas from your
puzzling past trying earnestly
to recreate placid images that
take you away from this
             awakened state?
   Poetry shows concisely
how others have suffered,
how they have healed.
Find rhythm or the rhyme.
Close your eyes, deeply
breathe, take stock of
the certain and the sublime.
             Poetry knows.
You have been there before.

04/11/2021                                      j.g.l.

April is Poetry Month
all poetry all the time
right here
poetry every day

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Try To Comprehend

countenance
my vision is clear

most of the time

i can see what is going on

past
present tense
and emotional graffiti
blurring my landscape

surpassing commonsense or

my peripheral understanding

of what is beyond
what is expected to be explored.

i look

daily searching for a message or
answer to existential confusion

yours and mine

it is a mixed up world
and we create a part of it

I can see that

as plain as they say
any damn day

what I can’t see
I will try to comprehend

04/09/2021 j.g.l.

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Mondays are just young Fridays

intentionally living
unintentional changes
without reservation
no hesitation
or validation required
reminding my self
of my intentions
loosening up my expectations
unconditional remediation
inconsequential meditation
self-respect
diversification
visceral behavior modification
clear path to a destination
beginning with
visualization
walk on

04/05/2021 j.g.l.

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Only Wednesday

Wednesday sits naked
and ordinary
waiting

between the bookends of social Saturday
and restive Sunday. The day is
little more

than a cluster of hours or a stop on the
treadmill. Indecisive and
lonely

nobody chooses a Wednesday. Nothing
happens
on a Wednesday

and it’s the same each week.

Sept 11/01, a Tuesday. London Subway bombings: July 7/05, a Tuesday, also July 21/05,
and also a Tuesday. Assassinations: John Lennon on a Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. a
Thursday, and John F. Kennedy a Friday. Kurt Cobain’s body was discovered on a
Wednesday, but he chose his way out three days earlier. Nothing happens on a
Wednesday.

There are fewer concerts mid-week, and opening night is never a Wednesday. They
never open the Olympics on a Wednesday. Nobody gets married on a Wednesday.

Yet I will choose Wednesday, or I will start with a Wednesday. I'll begin with a page, a
place where I can plant my thoughts. I have many thoughts, each week, every day (even
on Wednesday), but I will commit to posting something once a week. There are seven
days to choose from, and I chose Wednesday.

Now I may post something else on some other day, I’m like that (a true Gemini). If I am
moved or if I have time, if the stars align or the moon gives me a nudge, or if something
is really bothering me, I won’t wait for Wednesday. But I will post something each
Wednesday.

Something will happen each Wednesday, every week. Right here. If you want to see, or
wish to be reminded, sign up. There will also be a daily breath (usually 140 characters or
less) and it will not be limited to Wednesday, but will, or should, arrive every day.

Until Wednesday . . .

-j-

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