between big box buildings of concrete and glass, on the street corner exists a farmers market. awnings and tables, fresh produce from farms shipped to the city array in rainbow mosaics. they fill the air with their musk, of creation and earth, of sweat in their birth. hand made magic marker signs in all sizes post prices, three for this, a bushel for that.. wooden baskets. cardboard boxes. brown bags. scales to weigh the pick of the day. a plate bearing samples to taste.
vendors are colors as well in personality, the ones pushing the sale, some just waiting humbly for you to choose them, and then those that come to talk and if they take less home than they brought, it's a blessing. voices on voices on voices as people amble through. the pace is different within the confines of this space or savoring.
at the fountain, where the sidewalk takes people back to work, reality and the road out of town, men, women and children sit, just a little removed and dip shirts in the water, sometimes bringing them to their lips to assuages the cracked flesh. they are different and the same, dirty, frayed around the edges, carpets walked on too long before replacing.
across the street an art gallery crouches with its back to the river, a man stands outside the stenciled door, wires and pipes, an old motherboard broken in the shape of a heart and a telephone for a crotch. his finger points up as if he is hailing a cab or trying to get your attention to whisper prophecy, old 35mm lenses focusing uptown. he is art. he is junk. all in the eyes you use as you look at him.
a few spare parts scatter on the side walk, finding toes that send them into the gutter of the road. how many has he lost and where do they go to find their own home. my son keeps any we find in a shoebox under his bed and dreams of one day building his own robot.
on Saturday mornings a Hispanic family unfold worn lawns chairs and sell the prettiest flowers out the lowered tailgate of a rust eaten white and blue truck, wrapped in pages of yesterday's newspaper, for five dollars.
written for Imperfect Prose.
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77 comments:
rainbow mosaics. they fill the air with their musk, of creation and earth, of sweat in their birth.....
wow. beautiful. as always.
What a wonderful description of humanity gathered in a place where nurturing grown in the earth plays the music of nature.
Lovely description of the farmers market. I love how you see the world!
Beautiful eclectic description of a city's humanity viewed through your eyes. Thank you :-)
You have a wonderful way of capturing all aspects of a scene and sharing it with us in kind and thoughtful words.
Love it! You have an eye for capturing things and bringing them to life with words.
I love words.
And you always do them justice.
=)
A Farmers Market can be a place of much joy and happiness, each side making a bargain to their satisfaction. They are one of the last bastions of village life surviving amongst a changing world.
Great description.
God bless.
Takes me to the Sunday flea market and the Tuesday farmers' market in Lewisburg, PA. I hear, see, smell, taste it all. Just wonderful, Brian. How I enjoy your work.
"he is art. he is junk. all in the eyes you use as you look at him."
You always help me see the art, Brian. Thank you.
I can picture the scene perfectly through your words.
I feel like I'm there. That's awesome.
wow man...it this is your imperfect prose then what about the perfect?awesome write up :)
a snippet of truth at the market place.
You observe and speak like no other.
it was fun seeing the crowd from your eyes.
I love this line...
"he is art. he is junk. all in the eyes you use as you look at him."
I see compassion in this colourful portrait. I also see an artist's (poet's) eye for the beautiful amid the (sometimes) disparate and chaotic!
Your brought these people and their corner of the world to life!
I've bought some of those farmer's market bouquets for five dollars from an oriental family. :)
Great piece Brian. I miss working down south, the farmers markets and the cultural aspects of the many different sections, and all the delights that have to offer. Well painted portrait of life, and keen observations. Great job, thanks
The juxtaposition of the two worlds is interesting. Kind of an oasis in the middle of all the goings on.
The picture you paint with your words is delightful! I love the simplicity of the farmers market and the people as well and you're so right - lots of diversity at the market but everyone slowing down a bit and enjoying ambling through the fresh offerings.
Cole's shoebox of spare parts is bursting at the seams....hope he builds the robot soon!
LOVE a farmer's market. Junk into art, not so much... toes in the gutter. :) Buy apples. They're in season.
The farmers market can sure be dVerse
And suck some coins out of ones purse
Captured all the sights and sounds once more
Through your "cough" stalking "cough" watching tour..haha
A farmer's market is pure luck. Bargains are there but real bargains are snapped up fast. Luck brings rich dividends. You pictured it perfectly!
Hank
Brian,
My wife and I sell flowers at a farmer's market each summer and I just have to give you a thumbs up for capturing that sort of event with a wonderful texture of words.
-Bob
he is art. he is junk. all in the eyes you use as you look at him.
^^ my favourite line. gorgeous and haunting, as always. <3
I love going to the farmer's market on Saturday mornings. I hardly buy anything, but love to people watch as I sit on a bench across from the Humane Society's dogs, trying to get adopted.
After reading your poem, I think I'll be even more attentive.
Ah, I can see them all. The last grouping, though, telling.
I like those farmer's markets. We have several here, one in the heart of the city. Great to meander through. So much to see and to eat!
Humanity in all its guises, trying to make a living while an art gallery, so out of place, has a modern sculpture at the entrance. A fountain for people to cool off. I could feel the atmosphere, Brian. But I feel like a stranger where these people all belong.
A descriptive short-short, and a poetic bit of prose - a lovely picture of a thing, and I particularly like the visual that comes with: "he is art. he is junk. all in the eyes you use as you look at him."
You painted the scenes so well, perfect mental images.
Chris G.'s favorite is mine, too. Love the feel of life here in all its flavors and colors. The kids are on Fall Break, so we spent some time in downtown Chattanooga wandering around the other day. We were even serenaded by a local street musician. Providentially, he sang to me and my daughter about not worrying, his own original tune. Thanks for bringing that back to mind :)
Oh our cobbled-together living. It is in the frayed edges and papers from yesterday that we find our being. Thanks Brian.
You know it's a good story when you just want it to go on for a little while more. Made me sigh. Lovely, really.
Gorgeous descriptive writing!
This is smooth all the way, bri. Color and form and feel all ring true, vivid sense of being in the now and savoring it. Fine piece(even if it had an awful lot of lines. ;_) )Love the flowers at the end redeeming yesterday's news.
A beautiful picture painted with words. A pleasure to read, as always!
Nice. Lovely inner city visual. Beauty is in the eye indeed and go kid. Build your robot!
enjoyed the scenes of the farmers market "rainbow mosaics", the sidewalk and art gallery, sidewalks and the family selling flowers.
these lines though are heart tugging:
"they are different and the same, dirty, frayed around the edges, carpets walked on too long before replacing."
I love these little snippets of life you offer us, making every moment special.
Love it - the way you get your personal stuff, so common to all of us, be so special---
who needs paints when you have words?
Wow, you know you captured a farmer's Market perfectly. It doesn't matter whether you write prose or poem - it is always spot on.
You describe everything so well! I felt as if I were there.
you always write stuff that makes the reader feel he/she is there, thats your talent :)
sights and sounds of humanity.
I could see it, all of it. Beautiful!
great imagery today Brian. Love all the pictures you breathe life into. The pure, the broken and me all wrapped together
farmer's market...aren't they fun?
It's wonderful that the vendors are colors as well as personalities.
Your words have made the scene come alive. Vivid poetry here.
he is art. he is junk...and everything in between...depends on the observer's eye..i can smell the vegetables and i can smell the dirt..and i esp. loved..they fill the air with their musk, of creation and earth, of sweat in their birth..
sigh. lovely. i'm with claudia: my favorite line was "he is art. he is junk." this, i think, separates the sheep from the goats, no? keep writing friend. it is gift.
I'm impressed. You're truly well informed and very intelligent. You wrote something that people could understand and made the subject intriguing for everyone. I'm saving this for future use.
"between big box buildings of concrete and glass, on the street corner exists a farmers market. awnings and tables, fresh produce from farms shipped to the city array in rainbow mosaics..."
Hi! Brian...
Your prose is "picture perfect" very vivid in details and very descriptive too... as I walked and imagine all the sights, sounds, and
visions Of a son with you...Thanks, for sharing!
deedee :-D
This one knocks the old favourite of its perch and becomes the new No.1. I have never come across such a scenic description as this. I wonder if I dare pin it up near our farmers' market!
your writing is everything I see and wish Icould photograph, you are extraordinary Brian
oops I have a ExpressionsL blog that I keep up everyday 'cause I don't have to speak
Dear Brian, you have a way of describing an atmosphere, making words into images in my mind.
Have a great Thursday.;)
xoxo
Thinking this morning about how souless my city is...enjoyed your take.
A fine pen-painting : a sketch, but one which highlights cones of detail. "Sketches Of Brian", perhaps in a Dickensian mood.
You completely captured what I see as the MAGIC of outdoor marketing. It is pure pleasure.
Love the scene you've painted.
Oh, I love the sense of colour, smell and movement in this!
Love the take ya have on a farmers market. Beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder!!!
Great read once again!
God bless and have a remarkable day Man!!! :o)
On a smaller scale, this is Wednesdays in our small town. For those who are not too busy to notice. I am glad that you are not too busy.
Hello Brian,
It was interesting to read about the farmers market. In towns this age old practice had been replaced and people go to supermarkets to buy their products. Besides people in towns have become very health conscious and therefor very few will buy directly from the farmers unless the products are cleaned and packed hygienically.
Who knows your son might become another Bill Gates or Henry Ford with so much encouragement from the parents.
Wish you and your family all the best.
Joseph
It's truly a magical place if we just open our eyes and see that.
I love farmer's markets! Everyone I know who has been to one, loves them. Which makes me wonder, why aren't there more?
Whatever city this is, I am there reading this. It's beautiful. The vegetables, the farmers, the homeless, the artist, the crisp newspaper holding the flowers: I can see, feel and smell it all.
Thank you for sharing this! Love it!
Jen
Nice descriptions here, Brian.
wonderful description
markets are so much fun to visit...so visual attractive
Great job wonderful picture painted to create in the mind and seen in the eyes that are imperfect and changeable. allowing for the myriad of creations all brought on by the simple words.
Love how we can see through your eyes as you turn and describe...such a bard you are.
indeed, it goes to show we can all get along in mutual circumstances, well written mate..
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