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 2019
What could April be
but a blemish, fingerprint,
crease, or point of reference
in this year’s kaleidoscope.
Nothing sacred.
Not what was expected;
a disappointment
much like a November
without the history
of a war-torn year. Weary.
Unwarranted. Colourless.
We should save mishaps
for later in the year, when,
better able, we dutifully
pad our memories with
shards of joy, fallacy,
jubilance even.
Not so April, less it offers,
even than March.
Of course, we suffered
through its odious showers,
what else could we sing about?
Only hope it seems.
We continue looking.
That which we are denied
must be postponed for
for May. Or for later.
04/30/2019 j.g.l.
APRIL IS POETRY MONTH
a point of reference
I hope this finds you well; it has
been a while. Far too long.
These days, it seems we all have
something else to do with so little
time to ourselves. It is as it is.
I am wondering (I often do) how,
and where, you are. I have
misplaced your address;
(I’m like that, you probably know)
if you remember I’m disorganized
at the best of times. Why don’t you
send me a letter; an open-ended
conversation with a friend who
wants to know how you are being
treated in the only life we have.
Fill your cup with tea, sink into
a comfortable place, let the pencil
guide you across the vacant page.
No doubt, things will come to mind
you never meant to mention.
Let me know where you have been
or what you have done. Let me know
you are safe. Fill a page with everyday
thoughts (even those not so chaste).
Do you ever get lonely? Do you still
do what you used to do, now you
have changed? Remember when we
wanted to change the world? Did we
make a dent? (I think I am still trying).
Tell me your story in as much detail
as you wish. There is always
something we are dying to say. It is
not always easy. It’s not always clear
(I know). Maybe, by writing it down
you will feel that freedom (again).
Never before had we had difficulty
communicating, then it all stopped.
Give me a few moments of your
precious time. Share with me a letter;
I can only promise I will reply.
04/29/2019 j.g.l.
APRIL IS POETRY MONTH
it is as it is
It is to live in the moment,
not live in the poem, that
becomes confusing to a poet,
young or old.
Personal observations are
only valuable to the extent
they are emotionally relatable
to the reader. Otherwise the
words become confusing.
It’s not what happens to you,
but how you allow yourself to
be affected by what happens
to you.
Show, don’t tell. The feelings
will follow.
04/28/2019 j.g.l.
APRIL IS POETRY MONTH
just let it happen
