Sidewalk Love

I’m imagining they would spend hours,
just looking into each other’s eyes,
seeing what only lovers see.
There were soft whispers,
gentle kisses,
gentle touching.
Promises of forever.
And it makes me think of us.

It must have been like that.
For I can see that they pledged
their undying love to each other,
whoever they were,
some fifty years ago,
in the wet cement that became
the sidewalk I’m walking down, alone.
B.G. + J.L.
With a heart around it.

The sidewalk’s cracked now,
stained, and worn by time.
Once it was new
and beautiful,
like young love,
and gentle kisses,
and promises of forever.
And it makes me think of us.


Wonderful, Rainey. I think we can all relate to this one.

I wish I could relate to this poem, but I’ve never been in love. Nice poem though, hope I can feel like that one day.



I suggest you re-read rainey’s last stanza.

As I Walked Out One Evening

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
"Love has no ending.

"I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

"I’ll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world."

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
"O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

"In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

"In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
Tomorrow or today.

"Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver’s brilliant bow.

"O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you’ve missed.

"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the teacup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

"O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless

"O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbor
With your crooked heart.’

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

-W. H. Auden

Stupid poem rainey!

I’m feeling all romantic here, and only after reading this piece five times did I finally catch sight of the word I’ve been glossing over - the most significant word in the poem, second stanza, seventh line, last word. One helluva a rainey poem - I feel like crying.

You tricked me, with your refrain.

Fuck I feel like crying again. What the hell! POETS!

try publishing this one.

Haha! Didn’t mean to trick you. Well, maybe so.

More complimentary than your suggestion to try to publish it is the fact that you read it five times. Thanks for that, TUM.

Yes, that one word. Originally I had the line like this:

the sidewalk I’m walking down. Alone.

But I was afraid it was too obvious setting it apart like that. Now, I don’t know.

Anyway, I might have something a bit more light-hearted tomorrow. :smiley:

You’re such a pussy, thirst4metal

The most enduring loves are the one’s that show their cracks, discoloration and age; hence, their beauty.


[size=150]Totally Auden[/size]

Thanks for droppin’ tha mad science UGM - a great poem to reference[/b]

I like the way you have it posted. In my opinion, it was a very artful choice to not set it apart as blatently as you had originally written it.

And look, they still don’t see it; “The most enduring loves are the one’s that show their cracks, discoloration and age; hence, their beauty.”

But I bet their unconscious doesn’t miss it (I know I can be accused of getting a little mystical here, but… I really think it is elements such as these that give many poems a layer of “depth” and or poignancy). Certainly something that will attract, in my view, a closer inspection.

oh my.