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.
Victimless crime.
Take what is yours, take what is mine.
Undue violence, the greed, hypocrisy;
what is left behind when
we are only accountable
to ourselves.
Each of us a shadow,
most of us forgettable,
all of us trying
to get by.
Beyond the barking dogs, before
pungent night air strangles any humanity
from vagrants who piss in corners
we never visit.
On the darker side of 3 a.m.
A wrong answer will get you knifed,
the wrong needle will leave you dead.
No one will care.
Fewer will know.
Remind me who I am
before I forget to see.
Just write
my name
in graffiti.
Claim my sins
and transgressions.
I will own up to my responsibilities,
like a prayer
like a poem
like a person.
© 2018 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.