Mercadillo del Jueves

Mercadillo del Jueves

A Poem by Beccy

He sits hunched over his workbench.
At first glance, he is old;
sinew and bone, skin like leather,
but his hands are deft, 
those of a much younger man.

Momentarily he looked up, gave
a gap toothed smile, that made me
ashamed of the amount I once spent 
on cosmetic dentistry; during a time
 when pride, as opposed to pride 
in myself, ruled the day.

Suddenly then, he reached out and
curled a hand around my left wrist.
It made me jump, take a step back,
and he laughed, then in perfect                                
lilting English, said, 
'for your size missy.'

I watched, entranced, 
as with bewildering speed
he wove his magic. Thin silver 
wire linking two outer rows
of multi faceted rose pink beads, 
interweaved in the centre
with blood red, cone shaped crystals
that dazzled in the still bright afternoon sun.

'Real silver missy," he said, another
smile as he dug into a frayed leather bag
and produced a simple spring clasp.
'Only two euros extra.'

I nodded absently, more interested
in the artist, than the artistry. His age 
was impossible to guess; though the 
invincibility of youth had long passed,
and there was a gentleness about him
that older, more wiser men often possess;
and I was calmed, an oasis in the frantic
cacaphony of the street market,
where time froze as he completed his task.

'Thank you, it is beautiful,' I managed
as he held out the bracelet for
my inspection. 'How much?'
'Eight euros' he said, 
then leaned down and kissed
the bracelet. 'you are protected now.'

I smiled, then paid less than the price of a 
taxi ride back to my hotel, for a memory
that is locked in my mind forever.
Lost in the moment, as pride in our species, 
as opposed to simply pride, ruled the day.

© 2019 Beccy


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Reviews

I love this, Beccy. Enlightenment is often found in the most unexpected places and our faith likewise restored.

The portrait of the man does justice to his spirit and to the spirits of all those who seem to humbly go about their lives without all the trappings we so often feel are essential.

Just as the gospel speaks of coming as children, so the spirits of some people we encounter speak of a simplicity that allows the metaphysical world to shine through.

Very much enjoyed this tender, sensitive portrait. The juxtapositions between the speaker and the craftsman drive home some very important ideas. Great work.

Posted 1 Month Ago


This is quite a narrative poem. A nice story . . . reflection on a prized experience. Keep up the good work!
Tom


Posted 1 Year Ago


This is superb storytelling in a poem. I was watching the whole thing as if watching a movie. You convey the fascination I have with people who can produce art with natural deftness. I would've paid the guy twice what he's asking, if the experience is as pleasurable as you make it feel. Having someone write a poem or make or paint something just for you, that's the ultimate feeling & you captured the wonder of it (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 1 Year Ago


A perfect capture. Do you paint? If not, you ought to. You gave that moment so much life with your words.

LB.

Posted 1 Year Ago


you never know who you will meet and the impact it can bring,,loved your story

Posted 1 Year Ago


I like the way you think and feel. There should be more in this world who're just like you. This wonderful, inspiring poem reveals a heart that truly feels. I'll bet he appreciated the sale.

Posted 1 Year Ago


This tells me relationships are more precious than gold and silver, appreciating the artist is as valuable as appreciating the art itself and kindness and pride in others achievements are so important. He was making an honest living based on the art form he possesed. He was making lasting impressions as you are doing with your art. I value you.

Posted 1 Year Ago


" I was calmed, an oasis in the frantic
cacaphony of the street market,
where time froze as he completed his task."

Posted 1 Year Ago


"I nodded absently, more interested
in the artist, than the artistry. His age
was impossible to guess; though the
invincibility of youth had long passed,
and there was a gentleness about him
that older, more wiser men often possess;"

Posted 1 Year Ago


A loving and inspired perspective.
One artist very kindly assesses another.
Intriguing read, Beccy!


Posted 1 Year Ago



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Added on August 17, 2018
Last Updated on March 1, 2019

Author

Beccy
Beccy

Northampton, Northamptonshire, United Kingdom



About
I'm forty three, single and have a lovely thirteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and re.. more..

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