The Park in SpringCentral 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!" --------------- --------------- 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 ------------------ ------------------ 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!" ------------ ------------ 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 Home
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AuthorCHARLES PEARSON Archives
December 2021
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