The Fortune Teller

The Fortune Teller

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

He entered the Fortune Teller’s tent

When nobody was around,

He didn’t want to be seen in there

By the friends that would put him down,

The woman that sat there, heavily veiled

With her hands on a crystal ball,

Said: ‘Cross my palm with silver, sir,

The crystal reveals it all!’

 

He sat, but nervously sitting there

His mind had become a blank,

All of the questions he’d thought before

Had gone, and his spirits sank.

‘I see a lot of confusion here

The crystal echoes your mind,

What was the thing that you wanted most

Of the things that you sought to find?’

 

He dredged in the recess of his soul,

Just what did he really lack?

His life had been more than successful

There was nothing that he’d take back,

But he felt an awful ache just then

From the pit of his lonely heart,

‘I still haven’t found a woman to love,

So that will do, for a start!’

 

She waved her hands on the crystal ball

And he noticed the twisting shapes,

Shadows of past liaisons that

Had passed through his garden gates.

‘Perhaps you treat them unfairly

I see tears here by the score,

The women that you rejected, what

On earth were you looking for?’

 

‘I was looking for love,’ he stammered out,

He could see she wasn’t convinced,

‘Love is the one thing left behind

That you haven’t revisited since.’

And he thought of June, of Carolyn

And the love that shone from their eyes,

But he’d been so very much younger then

He confessed, and not very wise!

 

‘They were only poor young village girls,

I’d set my heart on a dream,

I wanted a lady of fashion then

A Duchess, even a Queen!’

‘Do you think that pearls and coronets

Are the signs of a loving heart?

You’d find the cost of upkeeping them

Are the things that set you apart.’

 

‘There was a girl,’ he began again

That I could have loved with my life,’

He stopped and thought about Carolyn,

‘I should have made her my wife!’

‘I see her, here in the crystal ball

Surrounded by all of your lies,

She loved you once in the wherewithal

But you turned, and cast her aside.’

 

‘Do you think she’d give me a second chance

If I knocked at the girl’s front door,

Would she put out the welcome mat for me,

Or wish that I’d never been born?

I must admit I deserve it, I

Have lived my life like a fool,

The dreams I had were beyond me, I

Regret I was ever so cruel!’

 

‘The crystal sees you approach her door,

You’re getting down on your knees,

It shows you grovelling on the floor

In a vain attempt to please.’

‘I’ll do it! She may forgive me then…’

And he left the tent in a spin,

While the Fortune Teller took off her veil

And smiled, did Carolyn!

 

David Lewis Paget

© 2012 David Lewis Paget


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Featured Review

wow , this was a simply amazing narrative poem ,you caught me from the first line , as usual you're rhyme scheme is just impeccable , it just rivets the reader inside your poems i love the way you write , your aptitude to narrative poetry is nothing short of amazing you sir are a legend

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Seems the suitor was still obtusely blind. lol Great build up, the thickening of the plot, but I think we need to see more, the man's confrontation, groveling on his knees before Carolyn. Although I must confess this Carolyn seems a bit of a trickster herself, which could add to the twists of the story. This "plan" of crystal ball lucidity and the mild manipulations of a woman "cast aside" I think the man is getting off too easily and Carolyn seems the clever type with more in store....


Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I read this incredible story/poem with anticipation! I was surprised to learn who the fortune teller was...~
Carolyn was most convincing in her role as fortune teller (and a wee bit sneaky). ~pat

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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1575 Views
22 Reviews
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Shelved in 4 Libraries
Added on October 8, 2012
Last Updated on October 8, 2012
Tags: veiled, lonely, tears, grovelling

Author

David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget

Moonta, South Australia, Australia



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