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
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.
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.
Coffee, fresh shirt, plans and rationalizations
see us through another day. So it goes,
each day commences with hope.
It has to. Something has to.
Deadly sins we keep within; bigotry, dishonesty,
infidelity. Silently, we weather a toxic environment.
We live. We learn. How long
until the coffee becomes bitter,
or cold? When will a shirt
become creased, or stained? Which knowledge is lost
and what remains? When do old habits return
as mistakes? Again.
Have we become complacent to lies we are sold,
or those we spit out? And we do.
Rarely do we say what we mean. Each sentence
a vapour trail. The previous, the past,
or the pathetic catches up by three, or by five.
This is how we live, or how we will die.
No aspirations. No sorrow.
Dawn to dusk, twilight then starlight. weary
or resentful, we will rest and repeat tomorrow.
Again. Hope returns. It has to. Faith.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
APRIL IS POETRY MONTH
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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.