I found that if I walked down certain avenues to the north, I would run into several of my acquaintances that don’t really have a clue of who I am, what I am and for that matter if I really exist. Strange, isn’t it? And only on those avenues and only in those directions does it ever happen.
Ashley
The avenue the avenue he walked me down the avenue faster than my feet could hope to fly. He set me down on the other side without the time to say goodbye and now I watch the lamposts standing by.
Sarah
hmmm avenue…a wide street with trees on both sides…i imagine it to be quite nice and pleasant to drive through…it exists in large countries..maybe? there are houses on both sides of the street..i think.
Carla Galea
There are many avenues we can go down in life. Each path shapes you into a different person. Sometimes we will cross paths with others, but shortly go down different roads. It’s your life though, you choose what direction you want to go in.
She walked down the avenue, her gloved hand swinging the parasol back and forth at her side. The layered skirts of her new dress swished as she strode confidently toward the park, excited to have a chance to walk without anyone interfering. She could think without interruption, and the idea made her so happy she couldn’t help the smile that curled the corners of her mouth.
As I followed her down the avenue, a thought struck me. What if she sees me? What if she turns around right now and see me following her? Then again, neither of us know each other. She could mistake me for some person who happens to be going in the same direction as her. Yes. Hopefully that’ll be it.
Ashley
Avenues are unique, in the way that they are not streets, as you walk down the boardwalk, there’s a different feeling of pavement at your feet. The foot strikes down softer, in an avenue filled with laughter.
It’s an endless trail of hope and glory.
Unless someone is murdered on it.
The tree lined avenue was wide and sunny that morning. Somehow the city had more than the usual space to breathe. In her heart the blood flowed freely. Energy through all her organs was flowing and she felt alive again!
Valerahaha
avenue q. good play. trekkie monster was the shit. too bad the only person i could appreciate it with was rose and we no longer talk. but that’s her fuckup. i don’t think i’d see it again though. just wouldn’t be the same. i suppose we’ve both ironically ventured down different avenues ourselves. lame. sad how those shit works out. anyway, sometimes good memories are also bad memories. i hate the association of good things with bad memories. it ruins them. makes them putrid. if only i’d kept them sacred and unattached.
nicole
a man took his stride a pace quicker when he realized he was in a parallel universe. a woman with tentacles coming out of her scalp. a man car. a 17 foot tall man. the sky was green. just a normal day on avenue 21.
The narrow road, the thin avenue.
That was where they met. Every morning, 7:23 sharp. All waiting. They did stuff while they waited. Told stories, each trying to out do the last person’s epic tale. The had many adventures there at teh buss stop.
She walked through the avenue as if no one was there. She was blind to the staggering amount of people trampling over the asphalt, and could only imagine what the actual noise was. She was trapped in her own bubble of imagination, in which no world was real but hers. She kept on walking until the bubble popped. As it popped, both the avenue and the bubble disappeared leaving nothing behind but her mind wondering through the streets of New York.
His feet were boulders. He’d been lost for hours. He traveled down the same avenues and boulevards. Going in circles, but there was something calming about the empty streets. The dim street lamps. The stillness of it all. It was the dead of the night and although he couldn’t find his way he felt at peace with himself and his surroundings.
stroll down the avenue with
me for a while
soaking in the people
observing the world
please,
disregard my three heads
while we stroll down this sweet avenue?
I walked down the avenue, searching. For what? I hadn’t yet figured that out. All I knew is that whatever I was looking for was somewhere on this street, I need only look hard enough. I didn’t know how long I had to look, or where, or even when, but I would walk up and down the sidewalk a hundred times a day if necessary. This avenue held all the answers I needed. If only I knew the questions.
It was the avenue where people went when life had given them all they could take. They were the lost souls of the town. Most had been forced into prostitution, or were now surviving as a homeless. The avenue of sadness where, you walked down it and felt instant pain. Pain for those who were once just like you. Pain for those who would never be like you again.
G.
The avenues of life, you can take different ones, of course, but all lead toward the ultimate goal of death. You have to live life to it’s fullest because there is no guarantee of what comes after.
The cars rushed by, kicking up her skirt in the wind, just enough to catch the boy’s eyes. “How typical,” she couldn’t help but think, blushing as she looked down the avenue. Traffic always caused problems. She didn’t care though, as she looked down the avenue she felt alone on the crowded street. The cars were no company, nor were the angry and tired drivers or the gas fumes that swarmed around her.
Strolling down the avenue,
Their fingers laced the same way
as their wedding day.
Who would have thought?
Two kids that grew up in the sandbox
Frozen in time at ninety three
But more in love than ever
Strolling down the avenue,
They talked of past time
Strolling down the avenue
On their way through kingdom come…
Teeps
Strolling down the avenue, I see a small fruit stand. And old woman sits and waits for a customer. Bon Jour she smiles. Teeth long gone. I can see her sucking on a warm strawberry. The juice makes a wet ring around her wrinkled lips. She leaves it there enjoying the gift of summer and the fruits of her labor.
Honey
avenue trees lining the sides branching off stretching into the distance. like a railway track. taking you off in directions and to destinations unknown. following the track with no way to get off it. no way to decide for yourself where you want to go.
I live in the middle of nowhere, where you never see a street sign that says “avenue.” I don’t even know the difference between an avenue and a street or a road, I just know we don’t have them. Not to even mention whatever a boulevard is. Nope, just streets and roads. Maybe an occasional “drive.” But mostly just fields and cows.
The avenue was not a crowded as usual. Very few people bumped my chair as they passed the cafe. It was nice on days like this, not too crowded, but not empty either.Just enough to make for good people watching.
Clutching a bag of stale bread as though it was secret magic, the young boy raised his fist as an offering to the Great Barren Blue who summoned a gray cloud of gulls that rained down on the avenue as he seeded the Earth with crumbs.
Clutching a bag of stale bread as though it was secret magic, the young boy raised his fist as offering the Great Barren Blue that summoned a gray cloud of gulls that rained down on the avenue as he seeded the earth with crumbs.
The horses pulled the wagon down the dusty avenue and stopped in front of the small house. Hedges encircled it in a menacing way, trapping visitors inside.
This makes me think of a band I grew up listening to. A local band, just outside of metro detroit, called Forever Ending. Right now, thinking of what to write, the lyrics don’t come to mind. It’s along the lines of driving off the cliff. But Avenues make me think of a journey well spent. The drive you continue to take and every wrong move made.
We used to walk hand-in-hand down that dirt road behind your Daddy’s farm, pretending it was Park Avenue. I thought our love was enough to make us rich, ’til one day you kept walking and I stopped believing.
We gonna rock down to…
sometimes you don’t think you’ll find yourself on the same avenue
16 years in the past
16 years ago, a different you
Same people, nothing new.
Like time stayed still here.
An avenue differs from a street subtly. It gives the illusion of length, yet it is still homely and inviting. It can be famous, such as 5th Avenue, or a local treasure, but either way, it is still part of a journey.
The day was bright and cheery. People were taking strolls in the park. I sat there on a bench. Invisible to those around me. All but one little boy who came and sat next to me. “May I help you feed the birds?” he asked in an awe struck tone.
“Of course!” I replied cheerily.
And so we sat until the sun turned into the moon. When every star in the sky shone bright we both rose. We walked home, hand in hand the same we had for fifty three years. Back to Avenue Street.
The avenue was paved with white brick that had years ago weathered to gray, I pick my way carefully. there was gravel and I was barefoot, having lost my shoes on the way to the ruin.
I was walking down Albright Avenue and saw a monkey sitting in a tree. As I passed him he jumped on my shoulder and rode with me as I continued my walk.
Avenue, Avenue, du mit Platanen bestandene, in Paris, eine Seitenavenue vom Champs Elysee, von dem ich immer noch nicht ganz sicher weiß, wie er geschrieben wird und ob es ein er ist oder eine sie oder ein es. Ein S. Savenue. Au revoir.
I found that if I walked down certain avenues to the north, I would run into several of my acquaintances that don’t really have a clue of who I am, what I am and for that matter if I really exist. Strange, isn’t it? And only on those avenues and only in those directions does it ever happen.
The avenue the avenue he walked me down the avenue faster than my feet could hope to fly. He set me down on the other side without the time to say goodbye and now I watch the lamposts standing by.
hmmm avenue…a wide street with trees on both sides…i imagine it to be quite nice and pleasant to drive through…it exists in large countries..maybe? there are houses on both sides of the street..i think.
There are many avenues we can go down in life. Each path shapes you into a different person. Sometimes we will cross paths with others, but shortly go down different roads. It’s your life though, you choose what direction you want to go in.
She walked down the avenue, her gloved hand swinging the parasol back and forth at her side. The layered skirts of her new dress swished as she strode confidently toward the park, excited to have a chance to walk without anyone interfering. She could think without interruption, and the idea made her so happy she couldn’t help the smile that curled the corners of her mouth.
travel on dear friend
sad but elated at your depart
road ahead spreads wide enough
for you to sew your heart
starts now although we knew
before this moment’s passing
soul traffic congested unrest and quakes
flustered before we come up laughing
As I followed her down the avenue, a thought struck me. What if she sees me? What if she turns around right now and see me following her? Then again, neither of us know each other. She could mistake me for some person who happens to be going in the same direction as her. Yes. Hopefully that’ll be it.
Avenues are unique, in the way that they are not streets, as you walk down the boardwalk, there’s a different feeling of pavement at your feet. The foot strikes down softer, in an avenue filled with laughter.
It’s an endless trail of hope and glory.
Unless someone is murdered on it.
Wow… this one’s staying off the books…
The tree lined avenue was wide and sunny that morning. Somehow the city had more than the usual space to breathe. In her heart the blood flowed freely. Energy through all her organs was flowing and she felt alive again!
avenue q. good play. trekkie monster was the shit. too bad the only person i could appreciate it with was rose and we no longer talk. but that’s her fuckup. i don’t think i’d see it again though. just wouldn’t be the same. i suppose we’ve both ironically ventured down different avenues ourselves. lame. sad how those shit works out. anyway, sometimes good memories are also bad memories. i hate the association of good things with bad memories. it ruins them. makes them putrid. if only i’d kept them sacred and unattached.
a man took his stride a pace quicker when he realized he was in a parallel universe. a woman with tentacles coming out of her scalp. a man car. a 17 foot tall man. the sky was green. just a normal day on avenue 21.
The narrow road, the thin avenue.
That was where they met. Every morning, 7:23 sharp. All waiting. They did stuff while they waited. Told stories, each trying to out do the last person’s epic tale. The had many adventures there at teh buss stop.
She walked through the avenue as if no one was there. She was blind to the staggering amount of people trampling over the asphalt, and could only imagine what the actual noise was. She was trapped in her own bubble of imagination, in which no world was real but hers. She kept on walking until the bubble popped. As it popped, both the avenue and the bubble disappeared leaving nothing behind but her mind wondering through the streets of New York.
His feet were boulders. He’d been lost for hours. He traveled down the same avenues and boulevards. Going in circles, but there was something calming about the empty streets. The dim street lamps. The stillness of it all. It was the dead of the night and although he couldn’t find his way he felt at peace with himself and his surroundings.
I walk down this same avenue again, hoping it will be different, better. spoiler alert: nothings changed.
stroll down the avenue with
me for a while
soaking in the people
observing the world
please,
disregard my three heads
while we stroll down this sweet avenue?
i went to this place once and had the time of my life. I tried to tell someone else how to get there and they never made it. Why?
I walked down the avenue, searching. For what? I hadn’t yet figured that out. All I knew is that whatever I was looking for was somewhere on this street, I need only look hard enough. I didn’t know how long I had to look, or where, or even when, but I would walk up and down the sidewalk a hundred times a day if necessary. This avenue held all the answers I needed. If only I knew the questions.
It was the avenue where people went when life had given them all they could take. They were the lost souls of the town. Most had been forced into prostitution, or were now surviving as a homeless. The avenue of sadness where, you walked down it and felt instant pain. Pain for those who were once just like you. Pain for those who would never be like you again.
The avenues of life, you can take different ones, of course, but all lead toward the ultimate goal of death. You have to live life to it’s fullest because there is no guarantee of what comes after.
The cars rushed by, kicking up her skirt in the wind, just enough to catch the boy’s eyes. “How typical,” she couldn’t help but think, blushing as she looked down the avenue. Traffic always caused problems. She didn’t care though, as she looked down the avenue she felt alone on the crowded street. The cars were no company, nor were the angry and tired drivers or the gas fumes that swarmed around her.
Strolling down the avenue,
Their fingers laced the same way
as their wedding day.
Who would have thought?
Two kids that grew up in the sandbox
Frozen in time at ninety three
But more in love than ever
Strolling down the avenue,
They talked of past time
Strolling down the avenue
On their way through kingdom come…
Strolling down the avenue, I see a small fruit stand. And old woman sits and waits for a customer. Bon Jour she smiles. Teeth long gone. I can see her sucking on a warm strawberry. The juice makes a wet ring around her wrinkled lips. She leaves it there enjoying the gift of summer and the fruits of her labor.
avenue trees lining the sides branching off stretching into the distance. like a railway track. taking you off in directions and to destinations unknown. following the track with no way to get off it. no way to decide for yourself where you want to go.
I live in the middle of nowhere, where you never see a street sign that says “avenue.” I don’t even know the difference between an avenue and a street or a road, I just know we don’t have them. Not to even mention whatever a boulevard is. Nope, just streets and roads. Maybe an occasional “drive.” But mostly just fields and cows.
The avenue was not a crowded as usual. Very few people bumped my chair as they passed the cafe. It was nice on days like this, not too crowded, but not empty either.Just enough to make for good people watching.
There is an avenue I walk in my mind through the dark, it is here with me always.
Clutching a bag of stale bread as though it was secret magic, the young boy raised his fist as an offering to the Great Barren Blue who summoned a gray cloud of gulls that rained down on the avenue as he seeded the Earth with crumbs.
Clutching a bag of stale bread as though it was secret magic, the young boy raised his fist as offering the Great Barren Blue that summoned a gray cloud of gulls that rained down on the avenue as he seeded the earth with crumbs.
The horses pulled the wagon down the dusty avenue and stopped in front of the small house. Hedges encircled it in a menacing way, trapping visitors inside.
This makes me think of a band I grew up listening to. A local band, just outside of metro detroit, called Forever Ending. Right now, thinking of what to write, the lyrics don’t come to mind. It’s along the lines of driving off the cliff. But Avenues make me think of a journey well spent. The drive you continue to take and every wrong move made.
We used to walk hand-in-hand down that dirt road behind your Daddy’s farm, pretending it was Park Avenue. I thought our love was enough to make us rich, ’til one day you kept walking and I stopped believing.
swerving through unnamed streets. unnamed lives. lost causes. found causes. flailing through lifestorms. flooding through the veins of a city.
We gonna rock down to…
sometimes you don’t think you’ll find yourself on the same avenue
16 years in the past
16 years ago, a different you
Same people, nothing new.
Like time stayed still here.
An avenue differs from a street subtly. It gives the illusion of length, yet it is still homely and inviting. It can be famous, such as 5th Avenue, or a local treasure, but either way, it is still part of a journey.
The day was bright and cheery. People were taking strolls in the park. I sat there on a bench. Invisible to those around me. All but one little boy who came and sat next to me. “May I help you feed the birds?” he asked in an awe struck tone.
“Of course!” I replied cheerily.
And so we sat until the sun turned into the moon. When every star in the sky shone bright we both rose. We walked home, hand in hand the same we had for fifty three years. Back to Avenue Street.
The avenue was paved with white brick that had years ago weathered to gray, I pick my way carefully. there was gravel and I was barefoot, having lost my shoes on the way to the ruin.
I was walking down Albright Avenue and saw a monkey sitting in a tree. As I passed him he jumped on my shoulder and rode with me as I continued my walk.
Avenue, Avenue, du mit Platanen bestandene, in Paris, eine Seitenavenue vom Champs Elysee, von dem ich immer noch nicht ganz sicher weiß, wie er geschrieben wird und ob es ein er ist oder eine sie oder ein es. Ein S. Savenue. Au revoir.
Walking steadily down the avenue, it finally hit me, I was wrong.