Of course there is fashion, and its necessary plight,
but how will it serve you on a blustery winter’s night?
As the weather now turns to what it truly should,
in the season that it is, and all is not good.
The only thing you can do, is dress for the weather,
and fashion is not enough to hold it all together.

A warm coat is a given, a soft scarf and gloves,
practicality is required, despite the trends that you love.
For style has no purpose in the chill that you meet
and what really counts is what you wear on your feet.
Shoes now, in this winter, are for the inside,
dig out your boots and wear them with pride.

Footwear with a soul, right down to the last,
make streets almost bearable, as it has in the past.
Waterproof and wonderful, and sometimes quite high,
boots keep spirits warm and your woolen socks dry.
Through an onslaught of snow, and sleet, and freezing rain
get a good grip on the ice, again and again.

Fine leather, common rubber, or high-tech synthetic,
winter boots have a purpose, and it’s hardly pathetic.
Tie them up tight; give me tough tabs to tug,
and sturdy laces double-knotted to make them feel snug.
Zippers, however, are an idea you can forget;
they are for old men and dandies, and I’m neither, not yet.

© 2015 j.g. lewis

 

We will soon leave this day, the shortest of the year, and surrender to the darkness. Knowing that each day forward we will experience more light, this is the optimum time to sit and find the stillness that comes with the night.

Embrace the darkness and set your bearings, check your needs, your wants, and desires; we all have them, yet too often the pace of everyday life denies us opportunities. Or we deny ourselves. Today, as we honour the winter solstice, find a moment to find your purpose, even in the midst of whatever conflict or confusion you may find yourself in.

Don’t be afraid of shutting your door to allow silence. You know when you need isolation to quell your thoughts and feelings. Just remember to open the door once in a while to take note of what’s going, or to let somebody in. Keeping a door shut is to disallow a view of the true you.

Communicate mindfully, speak or write your words with purpose and intention. Say what you have to say, and believe it to be the truth. Know who you are, or try to understand why you are the way you are. It is by fostering a deeper understanding of your self that you will develop greater compassion for others; and there are many people around you. Be conscious of your place on the planet while accommodating and being respectful of those who share this beautiful space. There are millions of us residing on this earth, and while our time is temporary, our words and actions are permanent.

Listen to others, especially when the words seem genuine or heartfelt. Sometimes communicating is difficult, particularly when emotions are involved. It takes a lot to open up and share certain thoughts with others; remember this as you listen, remember this as you speak.

We are all dealing with issues and events, decisions and disruptions on this ever-changing place. The times change; the world changes, and you may change, just as those you have come to know are certain to evolve. Remain aware of those who rely on you to keep the balance in this fragile world. Strive for consistency and, above all, be yourself.

Remember the value of kindness, and forgiveness, and acceptance. All of us maintain core beliefs, and they differ from person to person, but our true measure as humans is how we accept the opinions and ideals held by our fellow beings.

Take time to celebrate the achievements, big or small, of others. Everybody is out there trying, or managing, and sometimes even the slightest acknowledgement of another person’s progress can make a difference. Don’t forget to acknowledge your own advancements as well. Your strides forward may not be recognized by anybody else, but that should not stop you from celebrating each step.

These are times when the vividness of our world is overwhelming. The colors are bright, the volume and velocity of information is thick and fast, the truth is pure and distracting, and the depth of our emotions is humbling as we endure the transience from darkness to light. On this, the longest night of the year, dawn will take its time arriving, allowing us a additional time to contemplate who we are, what we want, and what we can do to make this a better place.
© 2015 j.g. lewis

 

December rain sneaks into a sleep that may
or might not have been. Gentle, with enough of a breath
to be noticed, yet crafty enough to remain unknown.
Window open slightly, the world from
the other side of the curtains
seeps into your space. If sleep is sleep, or has it been?
Wide-eyed now, hands reaching upwards, grasping at clouds
and the residue that comes with the season. Emotions,
struggling with premonitions of silence, you attempt
to fashion thoughts into dreams
of what you want or where you’ve seen
or what you wish, or what might have been.
It’s not bright, not this time of day. There can’t be a moon,
not one you can see anyway.
Clouds and thoughts, and your restless ways
fighting the fever for hours and for days.
You might seem so strong and still, right now, who can say.
Lucent thought, lenient waves, comfort you enough to stay
tangled in the life you knew
in this sleep, just not all the way through.
Who you are, or what you want
the raindrops fall, the memories taunt.

Night is only a time for precious remembrances. No one can hear
what you think, perhaps no one can know. Not even you.
A life imagined. You can’t turn it off, or
turn it down, or see your way to shut out the view.
The only one is you. Trying to speak the words
you need to feel, you come up silent against
the rain’s steady peel. It’s takes over, it always does.
December rain. It’s not the same. The chill
cannot be the temperature, you are wrapped in the blankets,
pillows pushed aside in a heap, as they are when you sleep.
A rest that is not now, for if it were 
would you hear your heartbeat, or remember
all that you dream? Or is it ever as it seems.
The steady rhythm never forgets, patterns of the past
come back slowly. It’s wet, its cold, the memory is old
but it is right there. Remember.
Of course you do, of course you have,
you cannot spend all those waking hours in
wonder, and not have it come rushing back.
When you’re ready for mercy,
December rain seems to know.
It crashes against the silence and the mystery it holds.
© 2015 j.g. lewis

I bought a new parka; I hadn’t for some time,
really only once in my adult life and years ago at that.
I had many parkas before, as a child.
You had to, around here.

There is no fashion in a parka. Parkas are boring.
It is all practical. Not like a ski jacket,
or an overcoat, or whatever was fashionable
at the time.

My Dad had a parka, I remember that,
blue with a hood, and deep pockets.
He may have had more than one,
but the one I remember was blue. And warm

Fathers seem to never grow cold.
They watch hockey games and shovel snow,
the parka protection from the elements,
as your feet freeze and cheeks grow white.

Fathers, like parkas, are sensible.
Consistent. They stand against the cold
providing protection and warmth.
I wear a parka.
© 2011 j.g. lewis

Coming out of the bottle, come on like a disease
A little slow at first, I’ve not lost my thirst,
but I’m past my misery
It’s taken distance, taken space, taken time I can’t replace
I take a few steps back, from this frozen track, and I finally see my face
I’m here now, where I thought I needed to be
But the need was not as great as the need to be me

Days of skyscraping buildings, nights on barren streets
you rarely see kindness, feel a warm breath,
there’s no mercy and too much greed
It’s taken away my confidence, my will, and all my strength indeed
There is no friendship here, when all’s said and done, not even one in need
Time to leave; I’m not sure I’ll be free
I can go anywhere and not know anybody

I needed to be where I could be more than a stranger
I needed to feel so much more than the danger
I needed to hear another point of view
I’ve heard what I need; now I think I need to hear you

Give me a drink, give me a couple of days
Give me a bus ticket back
and the time to find my way
The things you never wanted, things you never said
Keep on rolling around
in the back of my head

The nights move cautiously onward, swallow up the day
Taste a dose of bitterness, in the comfort of others
unlikely subjects along the way
I’ve taken advice from common tarot card readers
Sidewalk mystics and a string of bottom feeders
They say now is the time, but never in this place
I should save all my effort, save all my face

Move on, I won’t stay
Move where, I can’t say
Maybe there’s a place
some sort of middle ground
Maybe I’m lost
Maybe I can’t be found

I can’t stay any longer than a couple of days
if I can find my way back
You know I’ve come a long way
Maybe there’s a process or maybe there’s a place
Maybe there is a way
not to show my disgrace

© 2015 j.g. lewis