Poem of the day
I've been using iGoogle as my homepage lately, and you can add a lot of different boxes that update themselves daily. One I've been enjoying is "Poem of the Day". In the 4+ years I've been in Taiwan, I haven't really been able to indulge in as much literature as usual, as it's not really available, and since 90% of the time, I'm thinking of ways to simplify the English I use rather than turn it into metaphors, allusions or iambic pentametre.... But now that I have this fantastic feature on my homepage, don't be surprised if you see some fun stuff popping up on here from time to time.
Today's offering, one of my favorite poets as a child: Shel Silverstein
Where the Sidewalk Ends
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.
- Shel Silverstein
Today's offering, one of my favorite poets as a child: Shel Silverstein
Where the Sidewalk Ends
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.
- Shel Silverstein
i sigh a blissful sigh. ah poetry.
ReplyDeleteNice! Remember that time you got that book (or was it another) as a present? You opened it up while we were at the Su's, and we had fun reading different poems to them. When it rains, I still sometimes think of that one about the world's largest puddle really being the world's smallest lake.
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