fresh grown vegetables
vases full of flowers and
of course, homemade bread
peaches glow in morning light,
vendors call beneath the trees.
bright tomatoes, summer-ripe~
the street hums with gentle breeze.
vegetables galore
homemade baked goods and honey
i hit the jackpot
A strange looking construction
at a local market. Quite innate
So I ask. Hey
what's this building mate
Now this not so big construction
made from corrugated iron and timber poles
Being portable
there's no need to dig some holes
This stall holder
is immaculately dressed
Leather top leather shorts and thongs
leather string to tie a frontal hairy bun
Here now is the explanation this man expressed
A strong German accent
so hard to understand
Here are his words
that quickly came to hand
When he described this work piece of art
several times repeated !! A doony a doony a doony
Not comprehended he says it's a sheeeeeeeethouse
Understood!! A meeting rather foony
Rutted twittens, ivy shadowed
flecked with fuchsia blooms
as spring nods gaily
to wake dozy summer
and clattering of feet
on the sparse cobbles
that meander in quaintness
toward sprawling flea markets
where bustle and laughter
of children, echo, larkish
amid the ruddy traders
who grin and joke
behind their wobbly trestles
draped in gingham cloth
that sport a shambles
of vibrant, ancient treasures.
from one candle
a scent can transport you
lost in paradise
Who knew a few flowers in a vase
could bring so much cheer and joy ~
spring really is on its way.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Kensington Market...
vendor in a Blue Jays cap
hawking tchotchkes
When the State disappeared,
silence took command of the roads.
Villages slept with one eye open,
listening for engines, boots, and gunfire.
Markets that once sang with bargaining voices
now whisper in fear,
and children learn the language of hiding
before they learn to write their names.
Into the vacuum stepped shadows—
men without mercy,
flags without compassion,
laws written in bullets and ash.
Farmers abandoned their fields,
traders counted losses instead of profits,
and mothers prayed for sons
who should have returned at sunset.
Where protection failed,
terror planted its own authority;
where governance weakened,
fear became the new governor.
Yet the land remembers peace.
The soil still waits for laughter,
for schools instead of camps,
for soldiers of justice, not soldiers of terror.
And one day,
when the State returns not in uniforms alone
but in fairness, protection, and hope,
the people will reclaim their nights.
Until then, the wind carries one question
across northern plains and burning towns:
Who guards the people
when the guardians vanish?
Farmer's Market mornings a parade of colourful awnings
Day dawning.. folks with a basket just awoke still yawning
Blokes fawning over what bespoke stalls are spawning
Queues peruse.. muse.. stroke & choose without warning
Arable fables & orchard parables the tables are adorning
I sit here in the hot day's sun,
water droplets running off my skin.
As I grow bigger I get sweeter,
one day soon I will be picked.
Off to market I will go,
then taken home to be enjoyed.
Oh watermelon is my name,
sweet and juicy sink your pearly teeth in.
Earning a dollar is not a bother,
but could be a force at play,
when markets swing and sway
All those highs and lows
bring a dance to your toes
in a special way
You’re up, you’re down,
your turn to go around
during the market day
Stick to your plan,
thank Uncle Sam
for the way the market can pay
At the supermarket, squeeze this,
sniff that. Of course, color is the
first attraction: Fruit should not
be green -- vegetables must be!
So, green is not always best.
Children, take note! (Her daughter,
Little Genie, as ordered, wrote)
And if the same price for
one, choose the largest and weigh...
but scales sometimes are purposely
light, seldom right. (Genie again
wrote) Now let's do this again: I said
vegetables should be green...though
carrots better orange-yellow. Then there
are eggplants, they must be deep
purple. Oh, and the beets should
be nice, round, earthy red. Sweet candy,
gumballs, hot-dogs, highly processed
foods, hormone chicken and beef,
barbecue with artificial flavoring
should be avoided like the class
bully. (Genie wrote, if it taste good
it is probably bad for you) Read labels
on cans: Mono-this, Chlor-what's it,
if you can't say it, never plate it. Make
a list of these chemicals. Genie
used all the reminding pages in her pad.
(ended with, in the future, only go
shopping with dad)
the market for a crime is,
the pension for a crime
mind your own crime is,
mind your own business
a owned business is a owned crime
a owned business is a owned market
a owned market is a owned crime
a market is a owned market
work is working a crime
work is working a business
work is working a market
a market is to work a market
own is owning,work is working
own is owning,business is business
business is business,pension is pension
a working business is a working pension
a crime is a working pension
a crime is a working crime
own is working a crime
own is working a business
own is working a pension
The Chinese Vendor
A market in Hungary
Hatvan city
I remember an old man
Poor man. Good man
Chinese
He came every weekend
With his suitcase
Full of Chinese products
He sold those
Poor man
But great man
He was a trader
Mentally
Rich man
Business
Man
Sub Categories
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