Market Day by Meedna Dystante


"Get your beets! Crimson! Red! Fresh beets!"
"Oh no! I am Jon Brown, in search of leeks,
blasting spicy flavors for my meats."
Icy, cold, snow, it sleets
making red his rosy cheeks,
slowed down in busy streets
telling rem stories to the geeks
and to people hiding under sheets,
of the spices that he seeks.
Moving to the jungle beats
snatching sounds from singing beaks,
there he watches as his food heats
through a window as it streaks,
hungry children look on as he eats,
carelessly taking sneak peeks
at the people whom he cheats.
From valleys low to mountain peaks,
swiftly running from pirate fleets.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem