The Psychic Poem by Sasha Ioffine
The Psychic
The wax spit on her veiny hands
The wick swayed in the air
The mantra hung
As did her face
Enveloped in despair
Her hands gave birth to the tarots
Unfolding in the smoke
The chanting
In my ear
Had grown, the quieter she spoke
No sooner had she screamed at me
In awful, tearing cry
And shaking, sweating
Said to me
'Tomorrow you shall die.'
Sunday, August 12, 2012
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By Sasha Ioffine
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/4/2024 3:02:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
