Sitting in Central Park
Dusk is falling
I sit on my usual bench
Armed to the gills
With paper, pen, and Marlboro Reds

Looking upon the city
My own personal muse
Watching the people shuffle
As if they actually have somewhere to go

I watch the homeless
Begining their nightly rituals
Of setting up their boxes and guarding their shopping carts

And here she comes

My Ana

My lady of the night

In all her glory

As I sit huddled under fleece
She sits beside me
Barely clothed
In lime green platforms
Elton John would die for

Hey writer girl she whispers
Breath smelling of cigerettes and gin

An ebony beauty
Face chisled
Like an African goddess

At dusk
This becomes her park
She becomes a princess of the night

I watch as she twitters
From car to car
Pleasing men under the city lights
Accepting whatever they say
Whatever they do
Whatever they want from her

For the power of money
For the power of womanhood

I never judge her
My queen of the night
For she knows not what she does
I tell myself

So I write
To give her a voice
And she reads
Slapping me on the back
"Your damn good she says"

I look at her
Her soulful brown eyes twinkle

"Why do ya do it?" I ask

She looks at me long
She looks at me hard
She laughs like only she can

She answers


"Why don't you?"


My Ana

My queen of the night.





Tammy

Very nice, really portrays the reality of life for some.

very nice loved it. wonderful job. Can't wait to read more

very nice,makes me want more

I stand on this street everyday to break for a smoke.
Flipping away one and lighting up another,
when this man dressed in rags,says,,,hey got a toke?
As a hand him my last one, he smiles as I light it,
his teeth tainted and chipped, he said, 'cool' then, s`h`i`t'.
As he looked at it, then back at me saying, ahh, my ex's brand.
He talked of her and him, so much in-love they were,,,
He said they were perfect, till he got canned.
Then she started staying out late, and coming home with money.
I told her I could get a job, and 'please',don't do this honey.
After a month she threw me out, told me I wasn't good enough.
Thats been twenty years ago, and 'this', is where I stayed.
She's still around these parts, her face now looking kind-a rough.
Never wanted another, and she never wanted me back

You might see her if ya go for a walk in the park,
Her name is Ana,,,and she works there a lot, wink




Sorry Tammy, wink,,YOU bring it out in me,,,,,lol

And,,,wink,there is a flip-side to every action,,,,,


But it was written with such great "seeing" it as it took place in your view,,,,so vivid and cool,,,I am impressed and I NEVER READ,,,,but THIS WRITE is truly,,PERFECT!

i love this poem

Thank you all for reading

That was you sitting on that bench writing....
Ana said you had talent....

Excellent write.....

a clear visual.

Thank you up2us!

"As if they actually have somewhere to go"... scurrying hastily like wasps trying to make honey... so true.

"For the power of womanhood" ... weighed against societal mores or monetary indices?.... how sad.

like the write...

Looking upon the city
My own personal muse

^awesome, thanks for sharing where your inspiration comes from, you should sit on that bench overnight sometimes, it will make your pen go crazy, ha ha...much enjoyed

Thank you all!

what a story-I like it!!

Thanks!!