Zoltar moved in quietly,
carried up the stairs by no one
I remember seeing.
At night, his gears murmured
through the thin apartment wall~
a soft metallic prayer
to whatever listens in the dark.
Occasionally,
I heard his cards shuffle themselves~
paper whispering secrets
it should not know.
Sometimes his lights flickered
under my doorframe,
as if he’s pacing,
as if he’s thinking.
One night,
he slid a fortune under my door:
The visitor arriving tomorrow
died twelve years ago.
Another one follows:
Your shadow will leave you
before the week ends.
At dawn, the hallway smelt
of burnt incense and cold metal.
His lights flickered wildly,
as if he’s arguing with something
I cannot see.
Then a final card appeared~
edges singed, letters warped:
Do not open the door
when you hear your own voice.
We had a prophet in our trailer court
His sign said “the Amazing, Seer, Mort”
He told fortunes all day long
Some predictions were decidedly strong
A few naysayers tried to chase him away
But the rest of us mobbed up and insisted he stay
I will be a queen in my next reincarnated life
The woebegone neighbor will soon be rid of her strife
The block’s meandering husband will soon come back
Mort the magician’s predictions have nothing to lack
We are all uplifted, when he reads our palm and face.
His prophecies are marvelous, full of lightness and grace.
There are deep creases in palm of the harried hag’s hand
Her wizen face is wrinkled, freckled, there is a brown spot on her cheek.
She has a surreal expression; her voice is gravelly and ethereal.
her tent seems mystical, with embroidered crushed velvet table cloth
taro cards are next to her left hand, she lifts a palm over her hard runes
there is a beautiful purple crystal ball in the center of her work table
I feel her mystical powers, and my hands begin shaking like autumn leaves
An energy I do not recognize begins zapping lightning bolts around the room
The hag smiles, there is no fear in her, I can see this is her normal.
I wander in a trackless desert
Eyes squinting, scanning the desert horizon
Parched land, and so does my heart seem
Oh where could I find an oasis to cool my feet
Desert storms blow, I close my eyes
Some shadow approaching me
What is it, my love gone by?
The wind whistles, nay it is a fortune teller
Her wrinkled face smiles, hands me a card
What is it? A camel print?
Says she, it is a symbol of love
You will have a second chance
I safely hide the card within the folds of my diary
15 years have since gone by, the print faded
I look at the man by my bedside
My fortune cookie, I inwardly smile
She grabbed my hand and turned it palm up
Stated the obvious and read leaves from a cup
A sigh came from her heavy breast
I thought I’d offer her a test.
I was married, I began, to a woman, not a man
An eyebrow raised as she formed a quick plan
You’ll marry again, written in your palm
I wasn’t excited, but remained, strangely calm
Revelation after revelation; this woman’s good
At stating the obvious, just as she should
I looked intently, asked will I have a child?
Definitely more than one, her eyes were wild
You’ll live in a mansion with a wonderful lass
You’ll meet your soul mate, I’m not being crass
Children will fill every spare room
Laughter will echo, love will bloom
The soothsayer, finished on a positive note
I crossed her palm and put on my coat
David Cox 01/03/23
He was dressed like a circus clown for his grandma made him.
He thought it made him look silly, thoughtless and dim.
She was dressed as a fortune teller full of liveliness vigor and vim.
She told him his fortune and knew she would grow up and marry him.
She distributes the wands and the cups.
Her client taps a card, choosing it.
The death card comes up.
The client gasps.
She takes her hand and begins to explain.
She has Bambi brown eyes, and a kind soul.
The client settles down, wanting to believe
in her explanation, in the cards, in a happily ever after.
She is not merely a soothsayer and a card reader,
She is a psychologist, a mother, a grandmother, and a crone.
She understands the value of being optimistic
of bringing hope into each tarot reading.
Her clients are loyal, coming back to see her again and again.
She uplifts them, inspiring hope, promising joy.
It is what they get, for it is what they now expect.
Unfold, now behold
The truth of how all answers
Are hidden within
Every folded, small facet;
Every fibre part of you.
The aged fortune-teller sits behind a large round table which is decorated with old lace-trimmed scarves, sequined tassels, and shiny gold-colored coin trim. She tells me to cross her palm with silver, meaning she waits to be paid for her services. After I place my money in her wrinkled palm, she adjusts herself in her heavy wooden chair. She begins to gaze attentively into the depths of her glass crystal ball which rests atop a wooden ornate stand. Her weathered fingers caress the glass gently. I sit, quietly and patiently, while my heart pounds in my chest. I tremble in anticipation. The fortune-teller's eyes begin to squint. She fixates on one area of the crystal ball. What does she suddenly see? I become anxious. What will my fortune reveal? My heart begins to beat harder and faster. She raises her head slowly and she stares at me. I am motionless.
The fortune teller foretold
Of heartache and cold
Like the fates of old
She said she knew things untold
But my future
Is in my hands alone
So I paid her fee
And went on my way
I bid her farewell
Me and Santiago
The fortune teller of life
Tells a complicated story
One never knows it’s glory
Some rich and some poor
Traveling though time
One day, month or year
All seeing the same differently
The poor see the rich and,
The rich see the poor
Yet, through their eyes
They are both the same
One travels in comfort
The other travels to survive
Both facing the same outcome
Blending them together
In The End
I don't exactly know the how or why
I can't even explain it
But i have or was given a gift
I am a fortune teller / medium
I can read card's
Decipher tea leaves
Predict and tell the future
And converse with the dead
Wow can you talk to god as well ?
Or are you in fact rather a fraudulent snake oil griffter
con-artist
Who scrapes a living off the insecurities
and vulnerabilities of the longing and loss of the distraught
Because otherwise you would know what
lies ahead of you in your future
And if as the saying goes payback and karma is
a son of a dog
Then may i suggest you take an eternity
of treats with you for the journey because
you are bound for a long old stretch in the
dog house fed on a diet of humble pie
Once I was walking down the street
When a gypsy stepped out to say,
"Read your future for a dollar?"
Back then, for me, an hours pay!
Old and wrinkled was this woman
With a ragged and worn floral dress
With hands bent quite like vulture claws
She offered, "This way and I'll impress!"
I pulled a dime from my pocket
I said, "That's all I have, understand?"
Then quite like magic, I'll admit
The coin disappeared from my hand!
She wrapped the dime in tissue and said
Something Romanian I guess
Then said, "I'll light the big candle"
I was starting to feel some distress!
I said, "I don't have much time",
As I looked down at my watch
Then under her breath she mumbled
Touching my nipples and crotch!
Jumping back I just said, "Hey!"
(All I could think of at the time)
Then I made a hasty retreat
Saying, "Uh, you can keep the dime!"
Since then my libido hit the roof
A blessing and curse in a way
Now I take pause to wonder if,
She put a spell on me that day!
She was an older lady.
Bedecked with jewels,
Rainbow headband.
Glitzy scarf filled with rhinestones.
Her face was lined.
Wizened.
She was a crone.
Not easily fooled.
Her voice was a rasp.
A bark. Deep. Dark.
Her tarot cards deck…
Nothing fancy.
Crystal ball, runes, palmistry.
I sat at her table
Intricate details in its scarf.
Embroidered with gold,
Exquisite intricate stitching
Looking up
I knew I was looking into the face of magic.
We both smiled, but hers was stilted.
She studied my face, and relaxed.
Recognizing a cosmic connection
And another psychic when she found one.
What do you choose? She asked me.
Indicating the variety of choices.
I stared into her Bambi brown eyes.
So wise, so thorough, so intelligently intelligent.
Please choose for me, I said.
Best reading ever!
Fortune teller with beautiful face
Opened her wagon, a gorgeous place
Light and lithe, mysterious and lean,
She was the glorious gypsy queen.
I sat in awe of the candle’s glow,
Ready to see a tarot’s show.
A circus phantom not often seen,
She was the glorious gypsy queen.
She foretold a happy life for me.
Creating goodness, feeling carefree.
Self-assured, spectacular, wisely keen,
She was the glorious gypsy queen.
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