deepundergroundpoetry.com
Marketplace Maze
I find myself in the marketplace maze,
dazzled with distraction by the myriad
coral and tan walkways,
winding this way and that, enticing me
to discover where they lead.
Magenta Saris do their dance around me,
Swirling and swooning, they take a bow,
beckoning me through the crowded streets
and open courtyards where merchants chatter.
The aroma of honest leather greets me at every corner,
the orchestra of oxen and goats conduct me
through the narrow passages, bursting into song
with every escape from the shaded alleys.
rainbow silks embrace me with regal waves,
aquamarine appeals for my attention,
I stop to pass the time of day.
"I'll give you four hundred rupees for that hand-crafted wallet."
"I could not sell for less than five hundred, Sir!"
"four-fifty is my final offer."
"very well, Sir, today I make a special price for you."
My journey resumes with a sudden clang
a laden donkey sweeps past
as swinging pots clatter from side to side.
I am lost but I do not care, as I anticipate
the next crescendo of color with every turn.
I am a foreigner, mesmerized and immersed
here in the marketplace.
By DB (09/22/06)
Inspired by "Bizarre Bazaar", artwork by Liz Whitney Quisgard.
dazzled with distraction by the myriad
coral and tan walkways,
winding this way and that, enticing me
to discover where they lead.
Magenta Saris do their dance around me,
Swirling and swooning, they take a bow,
beckoning me through the crowded streets
and open courtyards where merchants chatter.
The aroma of honest leather greets me at every corner,
the orchestra of oxen and goats conduct me
through the narrow passages, bursting into song
with every escape from the shaded alleys.
rainbow silks embrace me with regal waves,
aquamarine appeals for my attention,
I stop to pass the time of day.
"I'll give you four hundred rupees for that hand-crafted wallet."
"I could not sell for less than five hundred, Sir!"
"four-fifty is my final offer."
"very well, Sir, today I make a special price for you."
My journey resumes with a sudden clang
a laden donkey sweeps past
as swinging pots clatter from side to side.
I am lost but I do not care, as I anticipate
the next crescendo of color with every turn.
I am a foreigner, mesmerized and immersed
here in the marketplace.
By DB (09/22/06)
Inspired by "Bizarre Bazaar", artwork by Liz Whitney Quisgard.
Published 7th Jun 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
9th Jun 2011 10:04pm
i think i can see how your process from inspiration to creation works (not fully of course) as its comparable to my own. do you write literature too? or i should say, do you write literature on purpose?
10th Jun 2011 1:38am
I have tried to write short stories but I suck. Also, I was in a Creative Writing class where we had to write one act plays, and I sucked at that too. I'm just content with sucking less, at poetry.
10th Jun 2011 6:43pm
i suppose its not for everyone, but i think with a gun to your head you'd produce some quality fiction
17th Jun 2011 9:27pm
