It’s covered with fog. The quebecois lights can’t even penetrate through it. The pale mist rises from the street in a thick layer, invading each passerbys’ thoughts, sneaking through the negative space in the trees, wriggling through the loopholes in their minds.
I walk down avenue after avenue, road after road, highway after highway, to find you. Half way across the country, feet ready to fall off, through heat, cold, wind rain, I walk to find you again.
He met her somewhere nearby, Adams Avenue perhaps. She was window shopping, her nose almost touching the shop window’s glass and she had walked pass, lightly bumping into her. She had given a small shout and he had offered a timid jump in reply.
Snow falls on my shoulders as I walk.
My feet travel the path that others
have traveled.
Others scurry by,
heads bent,
eyes down.
I walk with eyes skyward,
wondering whose steps filled
this avenue before me.
I’ve been down that avenue now, I’ve seen what it’s like, peering into the edge of the alley lit dimly by buzzing aggressive clawing yellow lights. I’ve been through the street and out on the other side, and I suppose when all is said and done I’m just another seventeen year old with a caffeine addiction and a journal full of poems.
there are many avenues i could have chosen. different life. different husband. different kids. different duties. but i like my avenue. it’s bumpy with potholes but also takes new blacktop well.
Down one avenue and into another, I felt the rush.
The excitement.
The pulse pounding feeling when you’ve been given a second chance in life.
Whether the road I now traveled lead me anywhere better mattered not; for I was alive, and I couldn’t have desired nothing greater to be bestowed upon me.
The plain woman strode down the avenue, parcel in hand. She brushed an errant lock of her plain brown hair out of her plain face as she approached the post office.
“I hope it gets where it needs to go,” the ordinary postman said. “The government’s been tampering with simple-looking packages such as yours.”
“I hope so too,” replied the plain woman. “Its contents are quite extraordinary.”
I’m walking and it’s raining and it’s cold and the world around me is spinning and I don’t know where I am. But I know I’m on the street, the street I met him on; the avenue so properly named ‘Destiny’s Lane’. It’s dark and it’s raining it’s cold and the world around me is spinning and I don’t know where I am, but somehow I find that thought to be quite comforting.
The avenue was capsized, with wet towel cars strung upon trees, one-legged and two-legged people hung upon building edges as beaming lanterns, and children fallen to the ground as shoes.
I’d like to think you can still see me standing there, looking back at you before I turned and cried all the way down the avenue. I never did look back. I just kept on going to work and doing my laundry and cooking in my lonely kittle kitchen without you.
She strolled along the avenue, the trees were turning into the reds & golds that the start of autumn brings, her favourite month. She paused to savour the beauty of it all & recalled the many times that they had both strolled along, in those heady first days of a new love.
Avenue … when said all alone, rather than in a sentence, makes me think of My Fair Lady … walking down an avenue lined with flowering trees in the spring … a breeze kicking up the branches and releasing a shower of petals.
michigan avenue. there’s one everywhere, but every time i see one outside my home state i can’t help but feel a bit of pride and sadness. how many people see their own michigan avenues and walk past them, never aware of how beautiful it is here, never aware beyond the name?
The fog’s haze abruptly grew stronger as I slowly walked down the frosty avenue. I didn’t want to make my presence known, out of fear for my life, yet the crunchy stones under my heels thought otherwise, and proceeded to mock me and my life as they seemed to rumble the seemingly empty lanes with noise.
The left over salt from the recently passed Winter crackled satisfyingly under the heels of my shoes. My eyes were misty from my recent confrontation with the person I despised, and I mentally flinched, remembering it. I continued to trudge down the cold and frosty late Winter’s avenue, unfallen tears burning in my eyes.
I have been down many avenues… and now this one, seems like a dead end. It reinforces the idea that karma is bullshit. I try and give and bleed, and I get nothing for my efforts. I am more inclined to believe that the avenue of nice guys finish last is the one I have chosen….. Time for a right turn,, Clyde
The avenue leading up to the country home was longer than I imagined. Although in normal circumstances a long walk would make me feel ready for anything, the trek up the avenue before me sapped my strength and left me close to crawling on my knees.
up and down the avenue. shit i’m not creative at all lately. WHAT’S HAPPENING? is school making me boring? damn i hope not. maybe it’s just the people? yeah, that’s gotta be it, huh?
I stood once on that avenue. And that was the first time I saw you. You threw me a paper. I don’t know why. But up to this day I have it; a memory of you…that I’ll keep forever. Goodbye…
“If you continue to pursue this avenue of questioning, my associates and I are going to have to have a little pow-wow with your family. Emphasis on the pow, capice?”
we live on avenue Q ! never even seen that show.
also, east avenue ! i drive down that everyday
lots of songs talk about strolling down the avenue, it sounds sophisticated and special like 5th avenue NYC. glamorous, rich . i want to live on 5th near central park!
Our hotel was on 7th Avenue in New York. Around 51st Street, I believe. That was an experience, learning how the streets of New York worked. It’s very organized. I like it. I think more streets should be like that. Can’t wait to go back there.
Have you been down fifth avenue recently? It’s not like it used to be. There’s no trees anymore. No light posts and fog. There’s nothing to remind me about how we used to cuddle in the corners, kissing but not quite. There’s no buildings there anymore, even. They tore them all down, a while back. I can’t recall quite when. But I walked by the other day, just hoping for some memories; I think we need to go back, rebuild a few to go with the new view – ruptured cement over concrete.
The bus careened down the avenue, he’d no way to stop it now. Once Anne snatched the wheel from the dying man and threw her top out the window this night wasn’t going to end on the legal side of the law. The horizon lit up with crying lighting and storm cloud black cars, red and blue lights up and down the intersecting boulevard and parkway. “Geronimo,” she pressed forward on the gas and rammed through a red traffic light.
The little boy was playing with his friends…. But when their ball fell into the street, a car was speeding down the avenue toward him…. And an older girl pushed him out of the way. His older sister, actually. And she died right there, for her brother. Quite a sad event on the old avenue.
i walked down to the avenue. my friends all laughed as i had a shoe lace coming out of my toe. that does not make any sense and that is why they laughed. they love to laugh at me. i hate them. they suck. major. booty. this story sucksss
The avenue she lived on was dirty. Always has been, always will be. But it was home, and that was more than what a lot of others could say about where they grew up. Home didn’t mean it had to be clean, or anything of the sort. Home meant she felt connected, wanted, and was where she felt she needed to be, no matter the circumstances. Now if only everyone could find such a place…
I sit alone,
On an empty avenue.
I sit alone,
Watching the view.
I sit alone,
The sky with a crimson hue.
I sit alone,
My thoughs, very few.
I sit alone,
On an empty avenue.
We sailed down the river like our own avenue.
You held me tight as we swayed side to side.
You held my hand and jumped overboard with me.
I’ll never forget that day on our beautiful water avenue.
The street that goes down by a weird different name-Avenue. Pine Avenue, to be precise. Kathy paused and shook her head at the thought of the word. Why must English be so complicated? she wondered, browsing through her well-worn dictionary and synonym booklet.
It’s covered with fog. The quebecois lights can’t even penetrate through it. The pale mist rises from the street in a thick layer, invading each passerbys’ thoughts, sneaking through the negative space in the trees, wriggling through the loopholes in their minds.
I walk down avenue after avenue, road after road, highway after highway, to find you. Half way across the country, feet ready to fall off, through heat, cold, wind rain, I walk to find you again.
He met her somewhere nearby, Adams Avenue perhaps. She was window shopping, her nose almost touching the shop window’s glass and she had walked pass, lightly bumping into her. She had given a small shout and he had offered a timid jump in reply.
Snow falls on my shoulders as I walk.
My feet travel the path that others
have traveled.
Others scurry by,
heads bent,
eyes down.
I walk with eyes skyward,
wondering whose steps filled
this avenue before me.
You told me you were in a play, something on the avenue. You we’re a terrible actor in stage, a great one in real life.
walking, walking, stop.
Wait…This is not my street. Where’s 5th avenue?!!
I’ve been down that avenue now, I’ve seen what it’s like, peering into the edge of the alley lit dimly by buzzing aggressive clawing yellow lights. I’ve been through the street and out on the other side, and I suppose when all is said and done I’m just another seventeen year old with a caffeine addiction and a journal full of poems.
there are many avenues i could have chosen. different life. different husband. different kids. different duties. but i like my avenue. it’s bumpy with potholes but also takes new blacktop well.
Down one avenue and into another, I felt the rush.
The excitement.
The pulse pounding feeling when you’ve been given a second chance in life.
Whether the road I now traveled lead me anywhere better mattered not; for I was alive, and I couldn’t have desired nothing greater to be bestowed upon me.
The plain woman strode down the avenue, parcel in hand. She brushed an errant lock of her plain brown hair out of her plain face as she approached the post office.
“I hope it gets where it needs to go,” the ordinary postman said. “The government’s been tampering with simple-looking packages such as yours.”
“I hope so too,” replied the plain woman. “Its contents are quite extraordinary.”
He drank from an empty glass and the girl laughed as she started away, the avenue of her heart longing for someone else.
I’m walking and it’s raining and it’s cold and the world around me is spinning and I don’t know where I am. But I know I’m on the street, the street I met him on; the avenue so properly named ‘Destiny’s Lane’. It’s dark and it’s raining it’s cold and the world around me is spinning and I don’t know where I am, but somehow I find that thought to be quite comforting.
The avenue was capsized, with wet towel cars strung upon trees, one-legged and two-legged people hung upon building edges as beaming lanterns, and children fallen to the ground as shoes.
I’d like to think you can still see me standing there, looking back at you before I turned and cried all the way down the avenue. I never did look back. I just kept on going to work and doing my laundry and cooking in my lonely kittle kitchen without you.
Lay down.
The avenue breathes with me.
Take in this deep amber life,
If theres any left.
For whats in this world is done.
She strolled along the avenue, the trees were turning into the reds & golds that the start of autumn brings, her favourite month. She paused to savour the beauty of it all & recalled the many times that they had both strolled along, in those heady first days of a new love.
Avenue … when said all alone, rather than in a sentence, makes me think of My Fair Lady … walking down an avenue lined with flowering trees in the spring … a breeze kicking up the branches and releasing a shower of petals.
michigan avenue. there’s one everywhere, but every time i see one outside my home state i can’t help but feel a bit of pride and sadness. how many people see their own michigan avenues and walk past them, never aware of how beautiful it is here, never aware beyond the name?
The fog’s haze abruptly grew stronger as I slowly walked down the frosty avenue. I didn’t want to make my presence known, out of fear for my life, yet the crunchy stones under my heels thought otherwise, and proceeded to mock me and my life as they seemed to rumble the seemingly empty lanes with noise.
The left over salt from the recently passed Winter crackled satisfyingly under the heels of my shoes. My eyes were misty from my recent confrontation with the person I despised, and I mentally flinched, remembering it. I continued to trudge down the cold and frosty late Winter’s avenue, unfallen tears burning in my eyes.
I have been down many avenues… and now this one, seems like a dead end. It reinforces the idea that karma is bullshit. I try and give and bleed, and I get nothing for my efforts. I am more inclined to believe that the avenue of nice guys finish last is the one I have chosen….. Time for a right turn,, Clyde
Fanny walked slowly down the avenue of willow trees, through the dappled sunlight.
The avenue leading up to the country home was longer than I imagined. Although in normal circumstances a long walk would make me feel ready for anything, the trek up the avenue before me sapped my strength and left me close to crawling on my knees.
up and down the avenue. shit i’m not creative at all lately. WHAT’S HAPPENING? is school making me boring? damn i hope not. maybe it’s just the people? yeah, that’s gotta be it, huh?
I stood once on that avenue. And that was the first time I saw you. You threw me a paper. I don’t know why. But up to this day I have it; a memory of you…that I’ll keep forever. Goodbye…
“If you continue to pursue this avenue of questioning, my associates and I are going to have to have a little pow-wow with your family. Emphasis on the pow, capice?”
we live on avenue Q ! never even seen that show.
also, east avenue ! i drive down that everyday
lots of songs talk about strolling down the avenue, it sounds sophisticated and special like 5th avenue NYC. glamorous, rich . i want to live on 5th near central park!
Our hotel was on 7th Avenue in New York. Around 51st Street, I believe. That was an experience, learning how the streets of New York worked. It’s very organized. I like it. I think more streets should be like that. Can’t wait to go back there.
Have you been down fifth avenue recently? It’s not like it used to be. There’s no trees anymore. No light posts and fog. There’s nothing to remind me about how we used to cuddle in the corners, kissing but not quite. There’s no buildings there anymore, even. They tore them all down, a while back. I can’t recall quite when. But I walked by the other day, just hoping for some memories; I think we need to go back, rebuild a few to go with the new view – ruptured cement over concrete.
The bus careened down the avenue, he’d no way to stop it now. Once Anne snatched the wheel from the dying man and threw her top out the window this night wasn’t going to end on the legal side of the law. The horizon lit up with crying lighting and storm cloud black cars, red and blue lights up and down the intersecting boulevard and parkway. “Geronimo,” she pressed forward on the gas and rammed through a red traffic light.
The little boy was playing with his friends…. But when their ball fell into the street, a car was speeding down the avenue toward him…. And an older girl pushed him out of the way. His older sister, actually. And she died right there, for her brother. Quite a sad event on the old avenue.
i walked down to the avenue. my friends all laughed as i had a shoe lace coming out of my toe. that does not make any sense and that is why they laughed. they love to laugh at me. i hate them. they suck. major. booty. this story sucksss
The avenue she lived on was dirty. Always has been, always will be. But it was home, and that was more than what a lot of others could say about where they grew up. Home didn’t mean it had to be clean, or anything of the sort. Home meant she felt connected, wanted, and was where she felt she needed to be, no matter the circumstances. Now if only everyone could find such a place…
I sit alone,
On an empty avenue.
I sit alone,
Watching the view.
I sit alone,
The sky with a crimson hue.
I sit alone,
My thoughs, very few.
I sit alone,
On an empty avenue.
We sailed down the river like our own avenue.
You held me tight as we swayed side to side.
You held my hand and jumped overboard with me.
I’ll never forget that day on our beautiful water avenue.
I have no relation to avanues. I actually don’t like them very much because why can it just be called a street??
Every heard of the man who waited on the corner.
The man who stayed there to find his love?
This is the story of that man.
A street maybe with shops in it. You might meet your friends there. It is a great place to be I think!
The street that goes down by a weird different name-Avenue. Pine Avenue, to be precise. Kathy paused and shook her head at the thought of the word. Why must English be so complicated? she wondered, browsing through her well-worn dictionary and synonym booklet.
i open my legs and let him find my avenue named Wet Pleasure Drive. He’s a complete stranger, but we all go down avenues we never been before ^^