Poet, painter, engraver, and visionary William Blake worked to bring about a change both in the social order and in the minds of men. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. One more window dark in this city, the figs on his branches will […] Streets – Poem by Naomi Shihab Nye A man leaves the world and the streets he lived on grow a little shorter. Listen! I can't believe I am in the same place. I am hopeless. The rhythms of the poem resemble the lyrics of the song, and the 1948 book Holes in the Sky states that his wife Hedli Anderson sang the poem. The song is a featured motif in John Irving's 14th Novel 'Avenue of Mysteries'. From The Streets of Cairo - Beloved Essama. Come my black brothers in the streets… 2) I walk down the same street. “I walk down the street. This poem is straight from my heart to you. I pretend I don't see it. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello is the author of Hour of the Ox (University of Pittsburgh, 2016), which won the 2015 AWP Donald Hall Prize for Poetry and the 2016 Florida Book Award bronze medal for poetry, and was a finalist for the 2017 Milt Kessler Poetry Award.She has received poetry fellowships from Kundiman, the Knight Foundation, and the American Literary Translators Association, … There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk down the same street.

Writing this, I had in mind a black-and-white photograph titled Mysterium der Strasse (Mystery of the Street) taken in 1928 by the Bauhaus photographer Otto Umbehr (Umbo).” My brothers in the streets, Who booze and listen to records, Who’ve tasted rape of mothers and sisters, Who take alms from white hands, Who grab bread from black mouths, Oh you black boys, Who spill blood as easy as saying ‘Voetsek’. I fall in. Streets – Poem by Lewis Grandison Alexander Avenues of dreams Boulevards of pain Moving black streams Shimmering like rain. But, it isn't my fault. 10: … It takes forever to find a way out. It takes forever to find a way out.

It isn't my fault. Louis MacNeice wrote a poem called "The Streets of Laredo" about the bombing of London during World War Two. "Pot Holes" Poem 1) I walk down the street. Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats: 5: Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels: And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument: Of insidious intent: To lead you to an overwhelming question….

It isn't my fault. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I am helpless. About This Poem “From the remove of standing on a balcony and looking down on a street, it’s sometimes possible to believe in a brighter future.