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 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.

deception

We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.

What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.

Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.

The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.

Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?

 

© 2021 j.g. lewis

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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Not So April

Posted on April 30, 2019 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

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

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