Escape to Central Park II Poetry

The Park in Spring

Central Park
by Charles Pearson

A park for dreamers
for strollers
more dreamers come
more are alone.

On a wide meadow
in the grass
I lay without electronics
and hear birds singing
as happily
as my soul
frozen
and wonderfully alone.
​

I did not write this poem: Central Park
by 5 Fletcher
​
When you get there, to the frozen apple’s core,
climb the first hill that you see. Tall one, 
floored in rock a-glitter, breaching the noon frost
at the center. Horizon’s white-hot gleaming.
It’s quiet here. A flock of somethings and someones has
built these lines together. Not a barn, nor cathedral either.
The beams vibrate squirrel and chickadee. Be. 
Be still in the ice, and their voices will come down
to shiver your pen across a new page.
​

Central Park
by ​Clarence Mac McMullin

Walk past them  unknown
flowers dream near frozen pond
snowflakes  hidden tears
​

​walking naked thru central park
by Jeffrey Robin

walking naked thru central park at dawn

exhilarating!

the policeman he come up and says

"why are you walking naked thru central park?"

i thought for a moment
and replied

".....to get to the other side?....."

he looked me up and down and said

"but you don't look like no chicken!"
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the ever afraid girl 

the constant thought of pain she is

we went walking naked thru central park

she stopped thinking about her pain for awhile
------------------
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i walked naked into the UNITED NATIONS building
and said

"i am here to address the world"

the head dude looked at me and sighed

"oh,no

another freak for PEACE!"
------------
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stripped of AURA
stripped of GUILE

please!

take away all thoughts
of corrupt respectability!

walking naked thru central park

naked thru the wind and rain

walking naked 
(naked and free)

becoming

the wind and the rain

Sex
by Harrison

The best places are hidden 
like stones in central park
secret roof top not
accessible except
for the morning staff
overnight, the sheer weight
of moonlight
paralleling through a Brooklyn
window pours on 
to a frozen floor of 
patterned tiles
where touches are like
turning on a lamp
dimly at first. Flickers
a bit then 
bright as Chicago (1871)
​

​Central Park
Central Park
by Montana Svoboda

Divergence of city and forest 
As concrete crumbles into inevitable homesickness, 
Clawing at couch cushions 
Pin pillows bleeding missed stitching, 
Coughing for closure, 
A small amount of doubt 
Maybe a bit of reasoning 
Explain the situation clearly 
Stated in logical manner, 
Devoid of bias 
There’s a purpose for everything 
Just don’t let this indecision by mine, 
A period turned ellipses 
Waiting for the ending 
Sapling spread viciously, 
Cover sun with shade allowing rest 
Peak softly 
In the distance mountains are rising, 
High above skyline 
Reaching clouds 
Sparingly sirens guide action, 
Thoughts and solstice 
Bright reflections 
From a puddle in a street side gutter, 
Softly 
A rock breaks surface tension 
Whispering tenderly,
Calling me 
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