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 . . .

this journey

How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.

© 2021 j.g. lewis

this season

A little cold, little wet,

a little tired and yet

I am here. Still,

full of wonder.

The morning chill leaves

little to the imagination

and much less

to hope for.

Expected, perhaps, as it

always is, this time, this

season is only what

we ask of it.

11/21/2024                                                                                                                    j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

The answers are far less certain

than even last week, to all those

perennial questions or solutions

you might seek.

 

What do you believe, or 

what do you believe in?

 

Come Monday, you have fewer 

questions than you had last week.

For a while there are less doubts

in what you believe. 

 

Whom do you believe in,

and who believes in you?

 

11/18/2024                                                                                                          j.g.l.

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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Feeling Each Drop

Posted on September 29, 2016 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

droplets

Last night I sat in the rain, just
thinking, just watching, just
feeling droplets settle on my skin
and taking up space in the fabric
of my coat, or my life. Just sitting,
just being, just seeing, thinking
of really nothing, or absolutely
everything. There were many things
I could have been doing, so many
things I have to get done, but
right then nothing was as important
as watching the rain. Feeling
each drop. Thinking or not. Just
being, just feeling nothing could
wash off of me; not my intention,
not my spirit, nor the thoughts or
ideals I hold close. My eyeglasses
became spattered, my vision
unclear, but everything seemed
to make sense within this
kaleidoscope of light and emotion.
Hardly seeing, just simply being.
Nothing was going, and everything
stayed, like me, and for a spell
I was all that remained. Me.
There were other things I should
have been doing, but some nights
you just have to sit and
find solace in the unremarkable.
                                                                             j.g.l.

 

Nuit Blanche

poetry2

Poetry: it is what I do. Well, it’s not
all I do (and I should do more) but,
I do it a lot. I think it, a lot. I write it.
A lot.
Poetry.
Sometimes it seems to write itself, but
I take all responsibility for what flows
from my pencil.
I’ll even admit to owning it as it sits in
my notebook, or on some random
scrap of paper, before it appears here,
or there. Or somewhere.
Poetry.
I have always believed a poem is not
a poem until it is shared.
This weekend (Saturday in fact) I’ll be
sharing some of my poetry as part of
Toronto’s Nuit Blanche, as one of the
many performers in
KORSI
at The Gardiner Museum.
I’ll be reading at 8:30 p.m., and then
later in the night, or early in the morn,
some time between dusk and dawn
(it’s one of those all night things).
I won’t be the only poet, and there will
be belly dancing, singing, palm reading,
story telling, and a lot of music.
KORSI, an installation by Toronto’s Maziar
Ghaderi, follows a reinterpreted Iranian
tradition in the spirit of community and
togetherness.
Come and share the night
The Gardiner Museum, 111 Queens Park
Oct. 1 – 2 7 p.m. – 7 a.m.

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