Lindsay Lewis

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

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Al Jazeera’s tribute to the many blacks who have been killed: Know their names.

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https://interactive.aljazeera.com/aje/2020/know-their-names/index.html  

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Italian language. Que bello! | Italian language, word origins, studying Italian, learning other languages

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I love studying Italian. I see so many interesting connections in the words. English of course originated in Latin and Greek, dilly dallied through French, which was the language of the elite , and then moved through the Anglo Saxon roots. This is why English is sometimes called a bastard language- really not quite nice. Let’s say it’s rich. I keep finding interesting connections as I learn Italian. I was wondering about the word angry , arrabiata/ arrabiato and its possible connection to rabies- Look at the root. Another fun one...

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CORONAVIRUS UPDATE

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Hello friends and clients, As you all know, there is a coronavirus circulating. While we should all wash our hands more, use hand sanitizer and stay away from people who are sick, aside from that, there is no reason to panic. The government is being extreme because the Canadian health care system isn’t equipped to deal with  a lot of people in the hospital so they are stopping the virus in its tracks. Italy has the highest instance of Coronavirus for a good reason: The north of Italy is the most polluted place in Europe. Milano had...

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School Rules and the Me Too # Movement

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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 school is concerned about being sued for “inappropriate touching”, so students mustn’t touch each other. He believes that it was...

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Beating the Odds.

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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 answers, measured happiness with yardstick precision Now he shuffles questions on unfamiliar ground: This why is not his At night only the tick tick of...

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The hostage taking: Words

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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 alone, they travel in groups, sibilants, consonants charging around the room pecking like absent minded birds perching on the roof of my mouth....

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My first poem: How to write a metaphor.

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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 Magazine. Tree                                                                                                                                             ...

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FOLDING: A poem by Lindsay Lewis

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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 moved by this experience. FOLDING There was a woman I once knew confined to the wing of a ward in a hospital doomed at fifty to a life of folding....

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The Poetree. Poems by Lindsay Lewis

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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 bed the side I let you take that my husband never shared you are with me your unfathomable sky fills my mind in a place that almost exists We could...

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Mangled modifiers thanks to Google translate

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For those of you who know I’m studying Italian, you will appreciate the humour. This is from a newspaper article in Milano Today, an Italian newspaper. This will give hope to language lovers and linguists everywhere that we can’t be replaced by computers. According to the translation, an accident, flew two meters and broke a windshield, thanks to a serious thirty year old. What were they trying to say? A thirty year old was seriously injured in a car accident, and flew two meters through the windshield.   Thank you Italian...

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