RSS Feed

Market Place

Posted on

“To be detached is to stand in the middle of the marketplace, with all its confusions and noise and to remain present to yourself and all that is.” Judith Lasater

I rush off to follow a delicious scent,
hurry to the vendor of dreams and silk,
linger by the dovekeeper’s stall,
listening to the murmurs of
sleepy doves in gilded cages.

Dozens of languages pass by,
bright as robes of every color tossed over shoulders.
The falafel man’s food is sizzling,
someone in the next aisle of the bazaar is playing music.
The stringed instrument’s notes, soft and low,
slip through the crowds,
below hems, over canopies, through every stall,
Music washing our busy faces.
And what with keeping an eye out for pickpockets,
haggling prices, juggling parcels and dreams and coin purse,
I forget to stand still,
immersed in everyone else’s hectic presence,
Present here in our market place.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

The Sketchbook

MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: