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
Once the performance draws to a close.
Alan j Wright
"hair the color of oranges" WOW! That's such a great last line. And, the violinist at the marketplace. Oooof. This cracks me up. Hopefully, this young lady will visit enough markets to improve and the birds will sing back-up for her soon. A great post today. It felt like I visited you.
ReplyDeleteThe young woman's hair was most vivid in colour. Hard to ignore, important to mention. For the young violinist, let's hope practice makes perfect. Thanks for the feedback, Linda, always appreciated.
DeleteAlan, this makes me want to run to our local farmers' market this weekend and people watch. Brilliant observations!
ReplyDeleteRun, Tracey, run! I have no doubt inspiration will be plentiful. Thanks for the kind remarks.
DeleteI can hear that brave violin scratching out its meager song amid the throng of shoppers :)
ReplyDeleteI am reminded that we all start out with a noticable lack of skill and it is in persistence and practice that we eventually gain some mastery. So, we must remain tolerant of the squeaky violinist- who knows? Thanks, Patricia. Your response is much appreciated.
DeleteGreat snapshots of your market (both in words and images). I love "browsing raspberries."
ReplyDeleteThanks Marcie. Each market day seems to throw up new possibilities. Wednesday wandering is a chance to capture a little poetic treasure.
DeleteI'm empathizing with that little girl, the brave one, in my view. It's wonderful to see what poems emerge from our daily excursions if we stop rushing around and observe!
ReplyDeleteThe Anonymous is Joyce Ray. Google is pulling my chain today.
DeleteI agree, Joyce. It always takes courage to put yourself out there on the stage. She will no doubt grow from the experience. You're correct, our daily excursions into the world are essential.
DeleteI loved the image of the girl in the market… it was such a bittersweet reminder of a little girl with orange hair who for a brief and happy time long ago was part of our family as a foster child. Thank you for words that brought her into my mind’s eye again.
ReplyDeleteDiane Anderson (newtreemom)
I'm pleased my words evoked a memory for you, Diane. When we write and share our respective words with readers, we can never be sure, where that will take an individual reader. It's both mystical and magical.
DeleteThanks for these wonderful words, Alan. Love the orange hair and the very brave violinist. I especially appreciated that you included the supportive mother - a necessary ingredient to growth.
ReplyDeleteIt is important, as you point out, Rose, all those with aspirations, need someone to believe in them and support their efforts. So pleased you enjoyed the visit to the local produce market.
DeleteLove the birds returning, in your second poem, makes me smile, and a mother’s love shining through, thanks for your street market poems Alan! BTW I also like your recent post on writing titles and that they require thought and time!
ReplyDeleteThanks Michelle. It was such an image rich scene for a poet. Glad you appreciated my take on 'titles' too.
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