Original Work – King of the Flea Market

This is a sonnet-esque poem I wrote for my Intro to Poetry class. We were given a certain list of words to include in the poem, which is why pickaxe is in there. It’s one of my more faulty poems for sure. But entertaining, maybe? Enjoy.
King of the Flea Market
I’ve discovered a treasure trove,
on the second Saturday of every month.
Amongst the booths and tables I rove
Stacked with bric-a-brac used more than once.
A coffeepot, a pickaxe, and dresses lined
with crinoline, relics of another time.
All of it lugged to the corner of Rhine
And Broad Street, what a climb!
I move slowly, like cows as they graze,
careful not to miss a diamond in the slag.
Dedicated to my search I raise
a porcelain tea-set, I dust with a rag.
I add it to my pile, not sure it is worthy.
Move on to the next stall, it’s only 8:30.

Make sure to stop back by tomorrow around 5 pm for the first half of my The Handmaid’s Tale review. 

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