The Client

I did psychic readings at Sunday markets approx. 1995 to late 2013.


A good, round face,

a smile,

brown hair cropped close

(just beginning to recede),

bright, round eyes,

direct gaze,
frankness,

ready understanding,

tears and laughter when

he speaks of his dead Mum.…

Good things,

but none explains —

nor even all together —

why I like him so much

and trust the liking.

Is it that indefinable, his energy?

Perhaps it’s the warmth,

or his insight,

or the way this kind, brave man
believes himself ordinary.



[Poem #103]

A double posting. This appeared at my Stones for the River blog yesterday. I realised that, with only a little expansion, it could become one of my Verse Portraits (with the same number of words as years of my age: 74 at present). As they are collected here, this has to be here too.

The Girl from Brazil

(Market Client)

I did psychic readings at Sunday markets approx. 1995 to late 2013. 


Soft, young,
excited by life.
I feel, empathic,
the suppressed fluttering
of breath wanting to surge.

A dentist in Brazil,
here she must study
again another year;
doesn’t complain, enjoys.

She longs for love.
I’m glad to see it coming
though not just yet.
First she will visit home.
'In March,' she agrees.

I see the large, warm family,
her brother’s new baby.
Smiling, she’s love
waiting to happen.




[Poem #82]

The Witch

Slender.
Long, dark hair.
Softly flowing clothes.
She came to my market stall
requesting an aura drawing.

Afterwards, on impulse,
I asked her telephone number.
When she wrote her name, I said,
'You’re X’s Tarot student!'
'And you must be
the mentor she talks about.'

I invited her into the coven.
She’d been a Solitary.
Years later, coven scattered,
we two still meet for coffee,
swap books and DVDs.



[Poem #69]