Today might not be what it is
without yesterday being all
that it was.
In a succession of events,
unplanned or programmed,
rarely do we consider
what has happened,
as it happens.
Sometimes we speak less
about things that matter
as we think we have
more time, as such.
Oftentimes
we do not speak of
things we should
as they are happening,
in the time that remains.
In the time we are given,
the present persists.
10/15/2024 j.g.l.
Pick up what’s left of the shadow that has been trailing you for a week or three, the one you have noticed even when the sun hasn’t been shining as it should.
Of course there have been distractions (there always is), even as your nerves are beginning to fray, and all those anxieties still follow you, surprisingly so, on any old day.
Intermittent rain washes away hopes and plans dreamed on and diminished now. Still, you have the time and, more importantly, you have the mind to make it all happen. You’ve got something more important to say.
10/14/2023 j.g.l.
Poetry is power, and poetry is
a weakness, as much cowardice
as courage. A delightful
contradiction, it sucks at your
soul, and, like a fussy infant,
cannot wait to be fed. More.
Not to be silenced until sated.
Nourished then,
it so slips into gentle slumber,
life’s rhythm allowing dreams and
sweet solace, only to wake soiled
and screaming. Comfort comes
with a soothing voice, gentle touch,
and reassurance. Flesh and blood,
innocent for only a while, it grows
alongside you, until it stands
on its own.
Poetry.
You give it life, then it to you.
© 2016 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.
I am a father. I’ve had decades of experience, and I anticipate decades more.
Fatherhood is a role I honour and respect; a lifelong privilege I am blessed to be a part of.
Throughout the years and decades, I have had the absolute pleasure of watching my daughter grow into the amazing woman she is. My greatest joy is noticing the changes as she evolves into the person she has become.
Nothing is dearer.
There comes a point where you realize she too has watched me grow.
I am older. I am aging.
It is only natural.
As I age, so too does my daughter.
I remember noticing changes in my father as he grew older, the evidence of time becoming more obvious with each visit.
I suspect my daughter notices differences in me when we are face-to-face, but these changes are essentially superficial.
Deep down I am still the same person.
I am her father.
In that, I’m sure we both realize the decades of love we share.
06/18/2023 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.