Silence

09/25/2018

If you are not
prepared to listen,
why would others
bother to speak?

Should you corrupt
the silence with anger,
it only shows
you are weak.

09/25/2018 j.g.l.

enough


Teased, we were, with a few days 
of warmth, optimism, enough to melt away 
most of winter’s remains.

But then today, with plans in place, 
more unexpected snow or freezing rain.
Will Spring not ever arrive?

We need a break; we require the sun. 
We count on the seasons, yet we are shunned.
Again. Enough is enough

So, I will hang up my packsack, much to 
my dismay, and again leave my adventures for 
another day.


j.g.l.

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04/13/2026

familiarity

Ideas change, like

the places, like the faces.

   Much like me; different,

each time the mirror

looks back.          I can see

lines on my face becoming

deeper as the years progress,

altering a view I only think

I have witnessed

          in the past.

   Do I see my father, or my

mother in me? Familiarity.

A resemblance; always

meant to be.

© 2026 j.g. lewis

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04/11/2026

gr@ffiti

Independent, a loner, or
part of a community.
Enabler, imbiber, victim
or survivor. How do you
identify?
Me, myself, or I.
She, them, or why? People.
I am human.
What are your pronouns?
Occupation or gender, by
country, religion or race;
it’s not all black and white.
Questioning or queer?
Who we are
is how we deal with
what happens every day.
It changes along the way.
Do you consider yourself
a consumer or a provider?
Be honest.
Painstaking label-making
gets complicated.
If you can fool others, are
you not then deceiving
yourself?
Who are you?

I come about my inadequacy
naturally.    What I feel is like
nothing else.           Honestly.
I am nobody.          We all are.
Even when we are something
to someone else.
I am somebody.       Like you?

© 2021 j.g. lewis

I‘m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

-Emily Dickinson

April is Poetry Month

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