Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

open space

  • gr@ffiti

    Independent, a loner, or
    part of a community.
    Enabler, imbiber, victim 
    or survivor. How do you 
    identify?
    Me, myself, or I.
    She, them, or why? People.
    I am human.
    What are your pronouns?
    Occupation or gender, by 
    country, religion or race; 
    it’s not all black and white.
    Questioning or queer?
    Who we are 
    is how we deal with 
    what happens every day.
    It changes along the way.
    Do you consider yourself
    a consumer or a provider?
    Be honest.
    Painstaking label-making 
    gets complicated. 
    If you can fool others, are 
    you not then deceiving 
    yourself?
    Who are you?

    I come about my inadequacy 
    naturally.    What I feel is like
    nothing else.           Honestly.
    I am nobody.          We all are.
    Even when we are something 
    to someone else. 
    I am somebody.       Like you?

    © 2021 j.g. lewis

    I‘m Nobody! Who are you?
    Are you – Nobody – too? 
    Then there’s a pair of us! 
    Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!
    How dreary – to be – Somebody!
    How public – like a Frog – 
    To tell one’s name – the livelong June – 
    To an admiring Bog!

    -Emily Dickinson

    April is Poetry Month

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  • truthfully

    How do you deal with a rumour? 

    Do you accept it and hold it inside? 

    Will you question, or ponder its 

    relevance, or truth (however unkind)?

    Have you known them who are 

    the subjects, or suspects, however 

    it may be?

    Have you truthfully considered 

    all options, or is there another side

    to be believed? Is the damage

    irreparable, nothing comparable in 

    the least. If it is known to be true, 

    what would you say if it was 

    said about you?

    © 2026 j.g. lewis

    April is Poetry Month

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  • unspoken

    Amongst the darkness as daylight 

    gives in to nights we yearn for,

    will we find the solace which has 

    evaded us for hours. 

    Comfort comes unknowingly, not 

    always in the presence of others.

    Alone, but not lonely. Contentment

    requires compassion.

    Companionship is illusive, at times,

    when it is better left unsaid. Unspoken.

    With whom would you tell when

    unaware of what to say.

    © 2026 j.g. lewis

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  • simple or complex

    Is poetry written, or does it

    write itself. Mysterious and

    measured words lay plainly

    on the page, further pulling 

    you into the curse, by line or 

    stanza or by verse. Poem or 

    prose; emotion flows naturally 

    from the shadows of birth and 

    death, in memory or breath.

          April is Poetry Month

    A cause for celebration or pause,

    a month for thinking as, day by day, 

    it draws us closer to life’s meaning. 

    As simple or complex as you allow

     it to be. Take some time to read, 

    to feel, to believe and see.

    Mythos & Marginalia

         fresh poetry every day

    j.g. lewis

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  • for a time

    Last night I stepped back in time, an amazing opportunity that took me to music that was the strongest part of my youth, The timeline was all over the place (as were my teenaged years) but memories were vibrant, reassuring, and oh so inspiring.

    Drummer Stewart Copeland brought his act: The Police Deranged for Orchestra, playing with the  full Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra, local guitar god Joey Landreth, and three amazing female vocalists.

    The music’s arrangement (or derangements, as Copeland puts it) totally captured the essence of The Police, the three-piece band he was part of into the ’80s for a seven-year history that saw it become the biggest rock band in the world, for a time.

    The concert hall was packed. It wasn’t the same as when I watched The Police perform in this city more than 25 years ago, but I’m sure many of the other balding or grey-haired heads bobbing to the rhythms took in the same concert. 

    The music seemed to fit in with where I am now; I listen to more classical music than I do “new wave” or “post punk”`or whatever we called it then.

    It was proof that great songs, performed in any genre or style, are still great three decades later.

    I was right there. Remembering. For a time.

    j.g.l.

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