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: March 2019
One of the most fascinating elements of poetry is that it looks into the complications of everyday life. Poetry will, occasionally, provide an answer, but is more likely to raise questions. Poetry will not further complicate, but rather bring on thought that will calm and clarify.
Just as life is to be experienced, so to is poetry.
April is Poetry Month, a month where I attempt to write a poem a day.
Each day, every day, this month there will be poetry on this page. Most of it will be fresh, but there may be a few favourites (depending on my mood). Come back when you can and have a look around.
Thank you.
There are days when I can’t
see past the next few hours,
and days when I can see my
way by what has passed.
Today might be a good day
to take stock of what has
really been going on.
Rainy days offer a chance
to slow down and catch up
with your self.
It is worth the time.
03/30/2919 j.g.l.
Posted on March 29, 2019 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Barren trees.
The day’s rain now watermarks through dust on the hood of a car, unremarkable as the clouds.
A Robin lands on a skinny limb, surveys the fallow for nutrition or nesting material, and then flies off. A pair of tiny Swallows flit across a lawn devoid of colour, last year’s leaves pressed into the surface.
It is as much evening as afternoon. Daylight offers no real answers. It must be Spring.
Hope is in the wind.
We don’t notice the absence of birdsong until it returns, then wonder how we made it through the Winter. We long for warmer mornings when you sleep with an open window and wake to the joyous sound.
We should make a point of listening, closer, to the birds. We should notice when we lose the sound to chilly winds, knowing hope will return.
Pay attention.
03/29/2019 j.g.l.
