NPM09: "Where the Sidewalk Ends"

Shel Silverstein's poetry is a lot of fun. Our kids love it, and so do we. We just read tonight through the first fourth of his book Where the Sidewalk Ends because the kids kept asking for another poem, then another, then another. We obliged.  We plan on finishing the book all the way through soon and then maybe check out another. Here's the title poem from the book...

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein (online location)

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Comments

[Seaton]

The one that kind of haunts me from that book...

The One Who Stayed

You should have heard the old men cry,
You should have heard the biddies
When that sad stranger raised his flute
And piped away the kiddies.
Katy, Tommy, Meg and Bob
Followed, skipping gaily,
Red-haried Ruth, my brother Rob,
And little crippled Bailey,
John and Nils and Cousin Claire,
Dancin', spinnin', turnin'
'Cross the hills to God knows where --
They never came returnin'.
'Cross the hills to God knows where
The piper pranced, a leadin'
Each child in Hamlin Town but me,
And I stayed home unheedin'.
My papa says that I was blest
For if that music found me,
I'd be witch-cast like all the rest.
This town grows old around me.
I cannot say I did not hear
That sound so haunting hollow --
I heard, I heard, I heard it clear...
I was afraid to follow.

-Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

[Myrrh]

Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out is my all-time favorite (probably all the references to food). I loved that book as a child but many of the poems seem bizarre/creepy to me now as I've read them to our kids. I think his best work is The Giving Tree, though The Legend of Three Trees surpasses it because of the Christian message.

[Jim Hale]

if you like SS, try Jack Prelutzky. Your kids will howl with delight, and the illustrations are stunning.

[Steve McCoy]

I've looked at some Prelutzky and had it recommended before. Thanks for
reminding me to check it out again.