Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

[tectak]

Hi 20-Hami,
This is very interesting because you are deceptively acute in the narrative department. The whole thing is sing-song and on that note I will have a pick at it. it won't be easy because I like it...much easier when it is detestable crap 

Revision#1

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants   Cute. very cute...and as a title, I just KNOW it will be about OLPNP's...and that's rare.

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a baltic Friday morning...I so want this to have some repeatable meter...the sing-song intonation lends itself to a lyrical lilt. You seem not to be concerned but I do believe it makes the thing a little clunky when it need not be. Re-rad it to yourself and just "feel" how this opening sentence could be great. The first two lines fit fine together "....on a gloomy baltic Friday morning.."
If nothing else, she’d never been, and I wanted to go. Again, this has rhythm....I cannot believe it is accidental.
Never miss the chance to dander past bleary eyed mitten fingered ...then it doesn't again...very frustrating. Maybe link-a-lot with bleary-eyed and mitten-fingered...but then there's that enjambment. It sounds as if you are trying out crutches for a friend. 
vendors flogging tattered books and love chipped ornaments with no home....I have it. it is the line length. Read it out loud. Make it smoother...make it more liquid...make it the consistency  of pouring cream...or at least, as consistent.
Examining vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon, earth still clinging to’em
evidence of their freshness I suppose? Stalls heavin’ with the latest catch,
the smell made her gip. Embarrassed I made a show of querying the origin ...you are running of the tracks with this punctuation and stylised, clipped speech. Can I call it speech? It worked so well in the beginning but like most speech it can turn lazy. This should not be the case in a well-crafted poem because you have the TIME to make it right. Your poem, of course....but I'm a comma whore. Read it.
and ageing process of prime Irish Beef, artisanal cheese ...detail good. Relevancy not so good. Wondering me...wandering you.
and sculptures made for new build homes.
Enlightened as ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks discussed Vinyl ...wot "as". concurrent or equal. I cannot tell. Bad word...always.
and bemoaned current musical trends.  Not forgetting the stockpile of
obligatory Leprechaun patterned novelty pants,
I have three pairs now, a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it.
At any rate we’re greedy eyed and hunger paused gawking at potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to quell
that craving and set us up for the afternoon....yet STILL I like it....


Overall impression is that it is a good read but a poor excuse for poetry. Maybe that is a little judgemental but you have not done enough to make this anything but a story with stops. The reason I still like it is because it is shiny, new and novel. That may be enough for you, and others, but I have a hang-over and need to take it out on someone. This kind of post is perfect for venting and railing...but I say again, hot damn...I like it. 
Best, 
 tectak



Original

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.
If nothing else she’d never been,
and I wanted to go. Dander past
stalls selling tattered books,
cherished ornaments with no home,
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.