David Wood

(07 April 1950 / London)

Market Day


Cloudy days when the rain held off
Market day came with its regularity.
Covered stalls like Wild West wagons
Trundled into place at the crack of dawn.

Stalls with sweets galore, skirts and hand bags.
Electrical goods, greeting cards and pet food.
Aroma of fruit and veg, wet fish, meat, tea and coffee.
They plied their trade shouting their wares.

People from all walks of life like woolly sheep
To the slaughter pressed coins into cold hands
Stealing a bargain stolen last night in the dark
From behind the pub full of hapless drunks.

Hapless drunks now sober walking through the
Market, their clothes revealing their poverty, all
Out for that elusive bargain, to what gain?
That something they didn’t realise they wanted.

Submitted: Thursday, May 02, 2013
Edited: Thursday, May 02, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I see so many of the city poor walking through my local market. Many with a can of beer in their hand looking for something to spend what little money they have on. A sad fact of life.

Comments about this poem (Market Day by David Wood )

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  • Diane Hine (5/4/2013 9:22:00 PM)

    'Stealing a bargain stolen last night in the dark' - such a clever line and something I wouldn't have thought of if I'd been wandering at the market. Great poem with many layers. (Report) Reply

  • Elena Sandu (5/2/2013 5:25:00 PM)

    I loved the way you described the local market, a heart warming memory, way different than the big chains that eats those small community markets with each day to go. Thank you for sharing. (Report) Reply

  • Paul Brookes (5/2/2013 2:24:00 PM)

    JUst like the markets of my youth a well written evocative piece. Thanks for sharing BB : O) (Report) Reply

  • Valerie Dohren (5/2/2013 1:30:00 PM)

    Excellent write David. Great description of a market place and the poverty that often can be seen there. (Report) Reply

  • Aftab Alam Khursheed (5/2/2013 10:15:00 AM)

    Alarming metaphor sorrow hid in the Market and that too when there is rain drip movement of sad movement and the concluding line 'something they didn’t realise they wanted' well penned, nice poem 10/10 (Report) Reply

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