Plainpalais Flea Market

Old shoes, scuffed and oddly shaped by old feet,
Heels run down, soles flapping.
Miles of dusty pavements
Ingrained in the cracked leather.
For sale?
Surely not.
Electrical items from a bygone era
Pose safety implications for sure.
A VHS larger than any I have seen before.
So much tat.
Chipped and ugly painted vases
Lie amongst broken crockery
And balding teddy bears,
Once loved
Now forgotten.
LPs without covers
More than likely scratched
Causing that irritating repetition
When the needle jumps
And stutters
Again
And again.
And again.
Curiously there is an entire car engine
Rusty and tired
Like the car it once belonged in.
And a motherboard!
I recognise the jumpers,
The switches,
The spaces for the RAM,
And Video cards.
Almost an antique.
Almost definitely useless.
Close by is combat gear
And camouflage clothing,
Rusty saws and axes,
Swords and other miscellaneous evil-looking instruments
Of torture.
Or maybe not.
My imagination is getting the better of me,
they are probably gardening tools.
An elephant’s foot table.
Now that must be illegal to sell.
Or buy.
I grimace.
Indian puppet dolls
Are much more cheerful,
But I don’t stop.
Tables full of coins and clothing, glassware and china.
Bundles of straw which leave me wondering
What one would do with them
In a city.
Like this.
Time for me
to move on.

~wander.essence~ poetry

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Heyjude

I have lived in the UK for most of my life, but when young I definitely had wanderlust and even ended up living in South Africa for several years which was a wonderful experience. I now look forward to a long and leisurely retirement doing what I like most - gardening, photography, walking and travelling.

33 thoughts on “Plainpalais Flea Market”

  1. What a market. How strong willed of you not to stop. I would have been attracted to the Indian puppets then tempted by the old coins. You poem describes the accumulations of stuff that clutter up our lives then find their way to second hand stalls to fill yet another person’s life with stuff. 🙂

    1. Fortunately Suzanne I am not one to collect a lot of clutter , moving as often as I have tends to make you quite minimalist.

    1. It was on my way to Carouge otherwise I probably wouldn’t have bothered. Interesting, but I wasn’t tempted to buy anything.

  6. You’ve caught that strange feeling that I always get in these places Jude. Why did they think some one would want to buy their throw away rubbish and “tat” I love that word, so descriptive of what it all is. I’d keep walking too. Cathy will love this one, as I do

    1. Goodness knows why anyone would buy half of the stuff I saw there PP. Most of it belonged in a skip!

  7. Jude, I really love this poem. You have some great descriptions here of what you saw at the flea market, and the uselessness of the “tat” people are trying to sell. I love how you’ve discovered that leap that is so wonderful in poetry:
    LPs without covers
    More than likely scratched
    Causing that irritating repetition
    When the needle jumps
    And stutters
    Again
    And again.
    And again.

    The leap comes as your mind wanders about the LPs and what might be inside and then that aside that brings to mind something we all recognize and find irritating – those scratches that cause the record to repeat. Some people of the younger generation who never listened to LPs might not have any idea what that is, but you capture it so well! What would one do in the city with the bundles of straw? In the end, it’s time not only for you to move on, but for all people to move on – to a more simple, less encumbered life. You speak to the universal here. Thanks for writing this, Jude. I look forward to linking it to my next poetry post on September 7. 🙂

    1. Thank you Cathy. Glad you enjoyed it and for the encouragement to make me brave enough to publish poetry!

      1. You’re welcome, Jude! Good for you to experiment and then to publish your work. It takes courage for everyone to put themselves out there. 🙂

  8. You’ve captured the spirit of the market perfectly Jude. I always wonder when I go to a market if anyone actually buys any of that old rubbish. Someone must or the sellers wouldn’t persevere.

  9. I like to look, and perhaps be reminded of my own past perhaps. I agree it’s mostly useless stuff but then you occasionally read about people finding an original mint condition Mattel car, or thousands of dollars in an old armoire or a missing Rembrandt. People enjoy treasure hunting.

  10. Much as I wouldn’t buy anything at a marche aux puces, I’d probably walk a little slower than you, just to check for wierdities, you just never know!
    Hooray, a poem from you and one packed with imagery as well. I like the repetition and how your personality peeps through as you’re drawn a journey back in time. Lovely, more please!

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