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.
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.
The greater the body of water,
the more questionable where a wave comes from.
Pebble in a puddle, a most obvious start,
a drip from a drop. Ripple resonates, doubles, then triples.
Evermore a pattern.
The bigger the lake, the more we can see.
Surge and swell on a monumental ocean
changes with the sunset, seaside tide, or a notion.
It ends on the shoreline,
from where does it come?
Unforeseen origin, man-made or natural?
On the stillest of days, wind hardly a whisper,
you will notice a rhythm but rarely the source.
Undertow and currents may alter your course.
True flow you may never know, shining surf leaving you
in its wake. What will it leave behind for another day?
© 2024 j.g. lewis
April is Poetry Month
you will notice a rhythm
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.