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 2015
new stereo, old records
tears
music does that
emotions
scratched below the surface
the needle brings them back
living
in the past
still she wants a future
This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.
Posted on April 11, 2015 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
she and me
Like filthy pigeons, we huddled
atop the cold metal
of the warm subway grate.
Hand up, handouts, we waited
while we wait. Most walk by.
She,
she shared
her beer and
her body. She took me in
for a time, she
had a room.
Her home
little more than a door
separating by-the-week rubbies
from her possessions.
A toaster oven,
a lucite radio,
stacks
upon
stacks
of paperbacks.
The guitar.
A musty cot, our nest
for those seven, eight weeks.
Milk stayed cold on the windowsill,
pressed against
cracked
frosted glass.
She shared her warmth, and sensibilities.
She busked, I begged.
Until I felt I was above this.
©2010 j.g. lewis
This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.
Posted on April 10, 2015 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
as you are
sad tulip
days of Easter past
eyes cast downward
you have not blossomed
as
one of the bunch
to have risen up
responding to
the slightest daylight
lack of
confidence or envy
in what delight others
bring to this earth
almost
effortless in their demeanor
they open up
and show
all they are
do you
not know your beauty
how even your graceful
curve concedes a rare
delicacy
pretty head hung low
reticent in a resolve
to be
as you are
how can
I assure you
the world is safe
and you are welcome
here
what can I do
except accept you as
you are
all you are
©2015 j.g. lewis
This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.
