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
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Posted on July 22, 2016 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Enlight1

 

 

 

IMG_1806

I could write about
my buoyant mood
or fluctuating state
of optimism. My
will and my wishes
could easily show a
plan or a goal, or
even inner vision.
Yesterday’s gentle
memories or today’s
unattributed sense
of satisfaction, are
considerable enough
to allow the pencil
some action. I could
think of those things,
and cherish them all,
but in simpler form
a flower says it all.
j.g.l.

À la nuit

IMG_1776

Luna radiates stardust and
wonder, sharing the bounty.
Her light bleeds her life
into the leaves and beings,
nourishing all things beneath
her aura. Comfort and peace.
Like a mother. À la nuit.
Through the stillness the
cycle of night continues.
Another phase, full at
this time, intensity shines
on all you wish to see.
All those who feel.
Like a child. À la nuit.
Changes soon, another cycle.
The light will fade, but not
the radiance. Or love.
© 2010 j.g. lewis

Mondays are just young Fridays

Enlight1

It’s after the rain, when
the temperature dips
and the raging humidity
slips away, if only for
an hour or two.
The storm has passed
and, for a while, your
troubles have dissipated.
You can breathe.
Even the wet cement
of the city smells sweet
and fresh. Nourished
by the scent of memory,
fulfilled by a sense of hope,
for an hour or two
everything seems alright.
You want to send this
feeling out to those you
care for to remind them
all is good, after the rain.
                                                                  j.g.l.

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