More Postcards from NYC #59 - Washington Square Park - & "Journey to New York" by Ed Siejka

(Image via: NYCDreamin Archives)

Washington Square Park
At the foot of Fifth Avenue sits Washington Square Park, long known as a magnet for young artists, singers, guitarists and others wishing to relax and forget their cares. New York University's downtown campus is located just to the east of the park.

Recently, I received a new written piece by poet Ed Siejka. I felt that Ed's explanation of his inspiration for his new piece fit this postcard well and so I am presenting his piece along with the above photo, which to me appears to be from the mid-late 1960's.

"The inspiration or idea (for "Journey to New York") came from two sources...the artists, writers and musicians I knew from the 70's...many tried and many just didn't make it in New York. One young writer fresh from the Midwest asked me where Washington Square Park was. I told him, "This is it...you're looking right at it." He just seemed totally devastated. His imagination had built up the park to be a place of inspiration for all artists and the reality of looking at a seedy and run-down park (and somewhat dangerous place) just overwhelmed him. It was in essence Dreams -vs- Reality." - Ed Siejka

Journey to New York - by Ed Siejka

Standing in front
Of the place
He felt
A faint breeze
Skimming
The streets
Ankle high
Swirling dust
Reaching up
Stinging his face
Reminding him
This was not
Wind blown sand from
The ocean.

He came from a
Place like that
"...seashells by the seashore..."
Tired
He packed up
Headed out
Straight down the highway
Took the high span view
Over the George Washington Bridge
And saw the misty outline
Of Manhattan's
Gray turrets
Piercing the clouds
Brightly colored banners
Everywhere
And soldiers in armor
Beckoning
Him
To come with
His dreams.

Stepping back
He looked
Up and down
The streets
Nothing moving
Nothing to see
The dream
Within
Still
Burned
White
Self taught
He spent
Long nights
Searching
For the right words
And solitary days
Practicing
Until his fingers cramped
And bled.

At the clubs
He met some ladies
Had some fans
When agents stopped
Calling
He stayed
When the others
Slipped away
Leaving behind
Empty backpacks
And borrowed shoes.

The place fills up
Lights dim
A stray cough
Punctuates the silence
Alone on stage
He eases into th mike
His voice carries the song
The audience leans
To hear
Words meant only for them
He connects
With them
And they with him
The Devil is in the room
The club is transformed
After all those years
His chance is now.

-end

Click HERE to read another of Ed's original works, posted back in November of 2008, titled "St. Adrian's, 1971".