A poem about pushing limits, you might like this, or not

Emotional effects
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I came across this.
It is my sort of stuff.
I wanted to share, so here seemed like a good place.

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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.

By Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

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:writing_hand: :partying_face: :+1:

Is there anything you would like to share?
Maybe this could be good place for you, too.

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I like that poem @Bobbi

I started writing a bit of poetry after my stroke but it has fallen by the wayside recently. I think I shared some on the forum way back when. I may have to hunt my notebook and pencil back out again :grin:

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@Mrs5K

The effort needed to write with a purpose can sometimes cause useful positive ideas to surface from who knows where.

It can work as a sort of relaxation exercise, a meditation with a concrete outcome. It can equally be cathartic helping with problem solving and in the search for answers.

Fascinating, sometimes, to review something written days, months or years ago. How things can change.

The work shared by others can be inspiring and motivating.

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