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Jeff Lewis Oct 2019
I see you.
sitting there thinking
no-one see me
sitting here.
I see you sitting there.
Or are we all invisible in our little bubbles?
Jeff Lewis Oct 2019
Ambling a forest path, soft earth
cushions his feet. Winding past
ancient trees. A tawny buck, branching antlers,
crossing the trail. Frozen
for a moment, then gone.
Picking a berry, spot of blood—Prickly vine,
but sweet,
purple black and juicy.
Beyond the pines he spies a lake,
crystal blue,
and longing for its cleansing chill, he—

He stumbles.
Shackles fling him upon the ground.
Here Master dictates.
Reality found at the end of a whip.
Heavy loads and
heavy labor are his lot.
A slave to the whims of others,
worked to exhaustion,
he is skin draped on a bony frame.

By twilight he dines on meager dole—
beans and rice.
Above the tinkling of chain on chains
and the muted groans from tired men,
under the first stars of the coming night,
the hoot owl calls. He closes his eyes

…and longing for its cleansing chill, he—leaps,
gasping in the cool, clear water.
Swimming with strength unknown for years.
Plunging deep below the surface,
water embraces,
and he accepts its grasp….

Jeff Lewis Oct 2019
Very much, I want
to write something really grand
and deep
and profound.
Something that will make
the reader gasp at its erudition
But, so often,
we don't get what we want.
So, what is it that I need?
Erudition-- I found that fancy word in my thesaurus.

I think thesauruses are really cool tools, but really!? Erudition?
Jeff Lewis Oct 2019
Sitting in an abyss of my own creation,
as the wax of my last candle drips burning down my hand,
and I wonder:
what would I see if I blew it out?
Jeff Lewis Oct 2019
Kneeling form
Prayers uttered
Eyes look up to heaven

Slender match
Waiting wick
Paid by proffered coin

Tiny fire burns
Wax of holy hope
Melted prayers glisten

Moist eyes reflect
Tears slowly dry
Tracks on sorrowed checks

Another coin
Another flame
Who would be to blame

The burning candle
Flickering tells
It’s time for letting go

Burning low
Hope gutters
Golden rings forgotten
ancient history, but memory is persistent.
Jeff Lewis Oct 2019
Naked on the bed.
Crumpled sheets
             tossed aside.
Unsettled strains.
          Musical snippets waft from

fan spins.        

Breeze on skin.
What does it mean anyway?
           The fan?
                     The spinning?
                                What the hell does it mean?

You see it in movies sometimes;
      the fan… spinning
         a room… spinning
            the moment… spinning
      spinning…               off into some sort of premonition
                                      or foreshadow of disaster.

Like in the script from some film.
     One of those with
                                      the dark edges  
           and the loud


What does it mean?              
           What the hell could it possibly mean?
                           Does it mean anything at all?

   all it means is
        it’s too **** hot


                            might be that’s all it means.

Jeff Lewis Sep 2019
Love came to me on the wind
Affections whispered
By zephyr breeze

Love came to me on the wind
Gentle caresses
In Spring flowers fragrance

Love came to me on the wind
And left
In that form I could not hold it
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