Lindsay Lewis

English/ ESL consultant: Word worker, writer, teacher, mentor and poet. Author of This Won’t Hurt a Bit! on writing clear content.

School Rules and the Me Too # Movement

Posted by on Feb 4, 2020

As an educator with 27 years of teaching experience, and a mentor, I take great interest in my students. I have known one student since he was 4, and he’s now 15. He attends GNS, a private school in Victoria, and told me that the principal of the Middle School has created a “No Contact” rule. What exactly is the nature of this rule, and why was it created? He stated that the...

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Beating the Odds.

Posted by on Feb 3, 2020

Beating the Odds                                                                               by Lindsay Lewis   He thought they had covered eventualities the small assurances of life years of counting carbs and slathering sunscreem petunias, seeding in spring He thought he knew the texture of his life wife at his fingertips filling cups with coffee: Black, rich, dark. He always dealt in...

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The hostage taking: Words

Posted by on Feb 3, 2020

Hostage taking                                                                                                                                       By Lindsay Lewis   Enclosed in the pale envelope of sleep the words invade, with tiny timbers in their hand, battering my brain Any poet knows, you cannot bargain with a word. They must have their say, adamant on winning. Words are worthless...

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My first poem: How to write a metaphor.

Posted by on Feb 3, 2020

How does one craft a poem? Students are baffled by poetry, for it breaks all the conventions. I often refer to poems as orange concentrate. Take out all of the water, and just keep the oranges, full and bursting with flavour. Take out small words- prepositions and articles, and let the nouns and verbs sing. This is the first poem I wrote when I was seventeen, and it was published in Grain...

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FOLDING: A poem by Lindsay Lewis

Posted by on Feb 3, 2020

I wrote this poem as a tribute to a woman I met when I worked as a nurse’s aide. She was young- in her fifties- a remarkable pianist, and stricken with dementia. She passed her time organizing our linen carts, and occasionally had lucid moments in which we could engage in brilliant conversation. Her husband was a devoted, loving man who took the ferry every day to visit her. I was deeply...

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The Poetree. Poems by Lindsay Lewis

Posted by on Feb 3, 2020

Almost We tossed around the word almost the last time we met our life an egg and spoon race against the clock Don’t fall for me, you said. Don’t project, I replied knowing we’d passed the expiration date. I could conjugate you all night change your endings to make them agree. At 1 a.m, I rise, boil two eggs, smile wryly yearning to spoon you and later, when I close my eyes in...

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