The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: the bazaar.
Had a very nice visit at the market in Penticton this morning. Good to see familiar faves and great to see it so busy. I know it was the first long weekend of the season, but we were there fairly early and the crowds were impressive.
Max had a great time, as expected. He didn't really want to leave, also as expected.
Mine:
Bright colours assault my eyes,
Pungent spices stuff my nose.
Pickpockets grab at my clothes,
And my ears hear shouted lies.
2 comments:
Oh well, Max'll be back there soon enough when you start selling the strawberries! I'm sure he'll somehow manage to wait until then.
Great little poem, though I think the third and fourth lines are my favourite :)
The bazaar
I'm going to the market, well actually the souk,
But all who live here call it the bazaar.
In America it would be the shopping mall,
And frankly, I find that quite bizarre.
Greg - yeah, there are a dozen or fifty other things to distract him until we return :)
Really liked that you incorporated the different labels into your poem. And I can't help but appreciate your rhyming of 'bazaar' with 'bizarre' :D
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