It was a long, lively street, I rememember.
The road itself was tar-sealed and cambered;
alongside were rows of drooping power poles
and telephone lines that sagged in the middle
as if weighed down by so many conversations;
a black-and-white crossing got me to the other side.
There were bright colours floating around outside
on the old, wooden houses that had red or blue
shingle roofs and usually pure white walls.
The cracked footpaths ledfrom home to school,
two different and separate worlds for a child;
The wide grass verges often needed mowing,
but it was not a no-exit, one-way street.
-8 January,2015.
'Telephone lines that sagged in the middle as if weighed down by so many conversations; I love it! perfect imagery. I enjoyed reading your fond memories of where you used to live and your description of the old white walled wooden houses with red or blue shingle roofs10+
Not a sonnet but does it matter as it is a most interesting poem. Your descriptive power is impressive and the street connects two different worlds. I like it. It's a very thoughtful and precise poem.
So many conversations in street gives a clear picture about daily life. Wonderful really.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey, Michael! I’m exploring your earlier postings in English. (I don’t have the mastery in French to appreciate poetry written in it.) In this one I like “the telephone lines that sagged... as if weighed down by so many conversations.” And the closing line for me lifts it beyond description in its suggestion. (Intentional or not “no-exit” brings to mind Sartre’s play. -Glen
You write some good comments here, making me wonder if I was writing better poems back i 2015, than now. You singled out the best images in the poem. I don't know how I thought of them. I was playing on the meanings of 'one-way street', and 'no-exit'-literal and figurative. I know Sartre's plays, including 'No- Exit' (Huis- Clos'-I think)