Today’s prompt was “where the sidewalk ends”. I shall not even attempt to breach this subject as it has already been done before. Instead, I wrote a few lines about Shel Silverstein’s work from his book titled “Where the Sidewalk Ends”. I loved it so bad. It is one of a few books containing poetry that I’ve ever owned. (The other poets I possess are Poe, Jim Morrison and maybe some Emily Dickinson hidden amongst my collection of novels. Oooh, ooh and some Chaucer and “The Jabberwoky” are hidden in there too.)

Shel’s Sidewalk

When speaking upon “Where the Sidewalk Ends”
This old, worn book is where my love of poetry begins
Do not speak to me of flowers, of love or of spring showers
Speak to me of unicorns and warring with hugs and their powers
Do not speak of city life, history, facts, or momentary summer flings
Speak to me of angry older brothers, of a hippopotamus, bread and a string
Do not speak to me of marriage dowers, fields, boats, towers, wedding rings.
Speak to me of a boy with his mouth full of food or a meal made just for a king.
Tell me about pancakes, ice cream and Pickle me too, monsters and garbage collectors
Boas, and boys with flying hair, sleeping late, watching TV, and old beard wearers
An adult who can write and think of such stories as if he were a kid just like me?
Many of his lines did I find most divine. I did not think that this could be!
Upon reading a few words of one specific poem with laughter I did out burst.
Of all the tales he told in jest the best was of all was ”The Worst”!