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Tag Archives: poem about distraction

Market Place

“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.

On Hectic Days

Wisdom whispers
in my jagged, jangled head:
Dissolve
into these distractions
till there is only the doing
and no more you at all.
This is always spoken
in a calm, cream-colored voice,
dressed in silk,
smelling of incense.
I seldom follow her advice,
preferring to cling
to this sneaker-scented world
of eraser dust and denim,
with its Technicolor talk.

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 Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry