A wander through the weekly Wednesday street market of my town reveals much to stimulate the observant poet. It's the stimulus of place and the colour and movement within.  Here are a couple of poems that owe their origin to this market space with its wide array of stalls and curious shoppers. Girl at the Market       I walked by her   On Market day   Wednesday in Mornington.       She was browsing raspberries   And blueberries   Her hair,   Remarkable.   -The colour of ripe oranges. Alan j Wright Street Performer   A small girl Stands on the street Amid the passing shoppers Scratching out hesitant notes On a brave violin Her open case attracts A smattering of pitiful coins Tossed in by tolerant supporters And the tone deaf.   Her mother sits close by -but not too close Offering a stoic smile.   A mother’s love Shines through And the sun peeks out From behind the morning clouds And birds return to the nearby trees                                     ...
