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January 2009 |
- Sunday, June 28, 2009 8:13 PM Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends. Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends. There is some personification in this poem. "And there the moon-bird rests from his flight to cool in the peppermint wind." This is the closest thing to a hyberbole: "And there the sun burns crimson bright" I particularly like this poem for being so delicate, and it has a sort of falshback feature. It is really deep when it comes to emotions, and it is evident that this author is adept at bringing out sadness and gladness in his reader. He made me think twice about my everyday life. What if one day we do have to leave this place where the smoke blows black, and go beyond the sidewalk to the land beyond. This poem reminds me of a song I heard on the radio, which almost made me cry. A guy like me crying? Must be really sad for a poem. This author has moved me, or at least my heart and my focus, to the future. What kind of future would we all want? |