Sunday Bazaar

Poem By Tiku akp

As I open the window
It is a new sun I see
And the streets are full
Of vendors moving free

There is a pell-mell of
Sounds of wheels and carts
The vendors have plastic
Wares and some broken parts

People are already out
With bags and money
To buy things in cheap
They go to market in a hurry

It is Sunday and there
Sits a bazaar in the field
I dress up to give a visit
Today the sun's ray is mild

Comments about Sunday Bazaar

A wonderful poem! Liked it......Big 🌟
Opening the window, you have seen the new sunrise with greater beauty and reflection of rays. We are in hurry in buying things. This poem is very amazingly and excellently penned...
Fascinating account of the beginning of a new day's routine-business as seen through the protagonist's window. He is so much charmed by it that he wants to go out and be a part of the action there. Thank you so much.
Feeling happy to read about Sunday bazaar which has now become history. Yes we all wait for it to rush and grab the best at cheapest price. Thank-you sir.

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To find her playing with a butterfly;
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Take away the riches with you
Don't display your dollars and pounds
To my countrymen who need freedom too


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Where mind revolts against the truth
And carries the lies as its guide;

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The moon has lost its sheen
In the thick night I weep like a child
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I open the door and feel the dawn
Descending upon my palm as I hurry
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Like The Cool Breeze

Like the cool breeze form the sea
You touch my heart and mind
You caress my body to sooth me
Thanks very much being so kind