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.
2023 has passed the halfway mark.
What seemed so fresh and new not all that long ago now has the twists and turns, bumps and bruises, and unexpected shifts that come with daily wear and tear.
Our 26th week arrives without the same optimism we had 25 weeks ago, and six months of those broken promises, dismal disappointments and inconsistent inactivity have filled the spaces between moments of brilliance and joy.
Our intentions, now, may not have the shiny patina they did on those cool January mornings. Now is a good time to remind your self of all the plans you have not completed or, perhaps, even started.
There is still time to tackle that laundry list of what ifs and must-dos. It is just July, and there is still not too much urgency. . . yet.
We do have to remember that summer never lasts as long as we believe and soon we will wake to the crisp mornings of autumn. Before you know it, mass market retailers will be laying out the Halloween candy and cueing up Christmas music playlists.
It happens all too quickly.
What will you do about all that is undone?
Remind yourself that it is not what you can get done in the time remaining, but more like: what can you do?
07/02/2023 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.