you stare up at me with menace between your cracks. dips and notches and bumps all positioned just so, just so as to trip me up. you pave my way, perhaps i take you for granted? too many gum blobs, not enough fried eggs. where do you really end? i guess i am sorry to have treated you with harsh feet. truce?
Strolling down the sidewalk, Byron twirled his cane in the manner of the carnival barker or mad man. Strolling down the sidewalk, Byron knocked out poor Tommy toucan.
dirty street with shoes and morning rain and the smell of the day before. the faint hum of a day beginning. laughter, shouting, running. lights and a mumbled conversation. we walked down those streets often. shop gaze.
jogging down the sidewalk, i feel faint. my head is dizzy and my stomach is churning. i blare my music louder and try to ignore the misery, but the truth is, i should have eaten earlier.
She walks on the sidewalk, wondering about everything and nothing all at the same time. It was all about him, it was all about us, it was all about life as we know it crumbling apart faster then the concrete treading below her tired feet.
My grandma had a sidewalk from the street to her front yard that was probably one of my favorites. It was short, but it curved and wound around a little bit. I never stepped on the cracks, not because I was scared I would hurt my mother, but because I don’t like to do things like that. I also like to keep the same number of steps in each section.
is covered in black and grey round spots from years and years of gum chewing. The entrance to an apartment building is black and greasy. So many people coming and going, for years and years. Thier footprints leaving dirty traces of thier lives. Thier packages in tow, going home, coming leaving, being , walking, running, laughing, crying, throwing up, eating people people people. This tiny, busy, friendly little town. What will become of it in 5, 10, 20, 50 years? Another booming metropolis? Just like all the rest? The sidewalks, all covered in gum? All the same? All the dirty little footprints all the same?
I used to always avoid sidealk lines until the days when ‘break your mama’s back’ didn’t seem like the worst thing that could possibly happen. Now I jsut see how many steps i can fit in one square, or if I can get a paatern of steps to squares.
This place, where people walk in there thousands os where i first g;anced gim, standing there in his black suit, looking like the creation of the gods. That is when I fell in love, those few seconds until the car stopped, he got in and was gone from the sidewalk.
Where the sidewalk ends by shel silverstein. I loved this book as a child. This word also brings bad memories of falling and getting hurt as a kid on the sidewalk. Also, someone getting their teeth knocked out on the edge of the curb. Overall not a good word.
there was a boy his name was sam he was a very nice boy every one liked him he was a fan of all kinds of sports he had a gifrlfriend called alita she was very nice and carm she loved him so much she thought he did’nt love her cause he was always seen with other girls which did’nt matter 2 him at the time in the end they had a kid and got married
Walking along the pavement, he thought of what the book had said and how it applied to him. And he realised that he had never really asked himself these questions before, and that maybe this was what was missing. Maybe it wasn’t that he needed someone else, but that he needed to know himself to fill that gap.
He was so lost in thought that he almost did not hear the car’s brakes squealing, or notice that he had veered into the oncoming traffic.
Hirsuted to baldness though not suited to anything other than lazy brain picking, the dead carcass just sat there, losing its hair to the worms and weather.
i was walking down the sidewalk one day, when the pavement started to chip away; it fell beneath my lowly feet, down the block, down the street; when i came upon a newer sight, my ex-lover and her boss entwined, threw at me a brand-new book, I never opened it, for the side of it looked
as though it were just a harmful tease. Sidewalk please
so many people on the sidewalk walking talking laughing almost crying bursts of joy and angry intentions this sidewalk brings us all together and yet divides us. those who cross this way and those who cross that way but eventually we meet again on this sidewalk, this trail of broken dreams and spoiled children with their young parents trying to express feelings of distaste with this year’s christmas barbie doll.
She hopped along, skipping over sidewalk cracks as if she were a child. The world was suddenly a joyous, wondrous place, and she could afford to be childlike. All at once, she no longer had to suffer that from her fear of being crushed by the obligations that usually ran her life.
you’re a sidewalk. Yes you are, stop denying it. Why do you always deny how much of a sidewalk you are? There are so many people that are not sidewalks yet you, my friend, are most certainly the most sidewalk-like person I have ever met. You are made of concrete, you are grey, and people walk on you. This is what it is to be a sidewalk.
I was walking on the sidewalk one day when I noticed that it really has a lot of cracks. I was admiring the cracks in the sidewalk seeing different images in the shapes of the cracks. The smooth, gray concrete prompted me to lie down and feel the cool hard grayness on my skin. It was solid and comforting. I will forever remember this moment in time.
I’m walking down the sidewalk towards work, as I suddenly realize the old man lying in the corner. He seems having trouble breathing and I panik while kneeling down next to him. “Someone call an ambulance!!!”
you stare up at me with menace between your cracks. dips and notches and bumps all positioned just so, just so as to trip me up. you pave my way, perhaps i take you for granted? too many gum blobs, not enough fried eggs. where do you really end? i guess i am sorry to have treated you with harsh feet. truce?
Strolling down the sidewalk, Byron twirled his cane in the manner of the carnival barker or mad man. Strolling down the sidewalk, Byron knocked out poor Tommy toucan.
dirty street with shoes and morning rain and the smell of the day before. the faint hum of a day beginning. laughter, shouting, running. lights and a mumbled conversation. we walked down those streets often. shop gaze.
jogging down the sidewalk, i feel faint. my head is dizzy and my stomach is churning. i blare my music louder and try to ignore the misery, but the truth is, i should have eaten earlier.
concrete magic walk way to hell, black tarmac river of sin we can never walk the same again we can never walk the same and isn’t it beautiful
She walks on the sidewalk, wondering about everything and nothing all at the same time. It was all about him, it was all about us, it was all about life as we know it crumbling apart faster then the concrete treading below her tired feet.
is a wast of energy. walk forward, or backwards, but don’t walk a side…
My grandma had a sidewalk from the street to her front yard that was probably one of my favorites. It was short, but it curved and wound around a little bit. I never stepped on the cracks, not because I was scared I would hurt my mother, but because I don’t like to do things like that. I also like to keep the same number of steps in each section.
is covered in black and grey round spots from years and years of gum chewing. The entrance to an apartment building is black and greasy. So many people coming and going, for years and years. Thier footprints leaving dirty traces of thier lives. Thier packages in tow, going home, coming leaving, being , walking, running, laughing, crying, throwing up, eating people people people. This tiny, busy, friendly little town. What will become of it in 5, 10, 20, 50 years? Another booming metropolis? Just like all the rest? The sidewalks, all covered in gum? All the same? All the dirty little footprints all the same?
I used to always avoid sidealk lines until the days when ‘break your mama’s back’ didn’t seem like the worst thing that could possibly happen. Now I jsut see how many steps i can fit in one square, or if I can get a paatern of steps to squares.
This place, where people walk in there thousands os where i first g;anced gim, standing there in his black suit, looking like the creation of the gods. That is when I fell in love, those few seconds until the car stopped, he got in and was gone from the sidewalk.
Where the sidewalk ends by shel silverstein. I loved this book as a child. This word also brings bad memories of falling and getting hurt as a kid on the sidewalk. Also, someone getting their teeth knocked out on the edge of the curb. Overall not a good word.
there was a boy his name was sam he was a very nice boy every one liked him he was a fan of all kinds of sports he had a gifrlfriend called alita she was very nice and carm she loved him so much she thought he did’nt love her cause he was always seen with other girls which did’nt matter 2 him at the time in the end they had a kid and got married
Walking along the pavement, he thought of what the book had said and how it applied to him. And he realised that he had never really asked himself these questions before, and that maybe this was what was missing. Maybe it wasn’t that he needed someone else, but that he needed to know himself to fill that gap.
He was so lost in thought that he almost did not hear the car’s brakes squealing, or notice that he had veered into the oncoming traffic.
the sidewalk slinks next to the road like a little sister, like the farmhouse next to the castle. but it’s the place i’d rather walk.
Hirsuted to baldness though not suited to anything other than lazy brain picking, the dead carcass just sat there, losing its hair to the worms and weather.
i was walking down the sidewalk one day, when the pavement started to chip away; it fell beneath my lowly feet, down the block, down the street; when i came upon a newer sight, my ex-lover and her boss entwined, threw at me a brand-new book, I never opened it, for the side of it looked
as though it were just a harmful tease. Sidewalk please
so many people on the sidewalk walking talking laughing almost crying bursts of joy and angry intentions this sidewalk brings us all together and yet divides us. those who cross this way and those who cross that way but eventually we meet again on this sidewalk, this trail of broken dreams and spoiled children with their young parents trying to express feelings of distaste with this year’s christmas barbie doll.
fuck this sidewalk.
She hopped along, skipping over sidewalk cracks as if she were a child. The world was suddenly a joyous, wondrous place, and she could afford to be childlike. All at once, she no longer had to suffer that from her fear of being crushed by the obligations that usually ran her life.
A place to walk on the side.
you’re a sidewalk. Yes you are, stop denying it. Why do you always deny how much of a sidewalk you are? There are so many people that are not sidewalks yet you, my friend, are most certainly the most sidewalk-like person I have ever met. You are made of concrete, you are grey, and people walk on you. This is what it is to be a sidewalk.
I was walking on the sidewalk one day when I noticed that it really has a lot of cracks. I was admiring the cracks in the sidewalk seeing different images in the shapes of the cracks. The smooth, gray concrete prompted me to lie down and feel the cool hard grayness on my skin. It was solid and comforting. I will forever remember this moment in time.
A walkway next to a road that allows safe passage for pedestrians.
kids.outside.**neighborhood walks**.trees **happy**..thats all.
I’m walking down the sidewalk towards work, as I suddenly realize the old man lying in the corner. He seems having trouble breathing and I panik while kneeling down next to him. “Someone call an ambulance!!!”