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.
The next chance depends upon your last reason, whatever that was.
We all have a lot of reasons, claims, explanations or affirmations. Excuses are different, both with chances and the latest reasoning. No revelation there; haven’t you known for some time? You have no excuse. You’ve simply waited for something better to take place, or come along, or happen on its own.
Look at you. Still waiting.
What else would you do?
Is hope that much different than chance?
Not in my experience.
Now, I’m not sure of my fitness to offer sound or superior advice, but others — those who seem too frightened to dream — genuinely embrace this dire expectation that we shall all be lulled into complacency.
Sounds like absolute mediocrity to me.
For no other reason than that, I’ll take my chances.
09/24/2024 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.