He sits on the chair now broken,

He resides in the attic now taken.

His clothes have more holes than cloth,

His only companion is a sloth.

He is very quiet and reclusive

His mind is tired and elusive.

He sits and ponders about his life,

He sits and ponders about his strifes.

He can’t eat or drink or sleep or die,

He is a poltergeist, and that’s not a lie.

24 Comments

  1. Cash says:

    Reminds me of peeves from the HP series

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Aishwarya says:

    I like the eerie atmosphere of this poem!

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Thank you for liking my post

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Elouise says:

    Hmmm…If I could wave a magic wand….or be Queen for a Day….better even, God….which I cannot do or be…. Thank you, dear Isah, for sharing the shadows of your life. So distinctly you and not you, all at the same time. Don’t let them eat your voice alive.

    Liked by 4 people

    1. Isha says:

      Thank you very much!

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Loved this, so clever! nice to meet you and thank you for following my blog!

    Liked by 3 people

  6. ilonapulianauskaite says:

    beautiful poem❤️

    Liked by 4 people

    1. ilonapulianauskaite says:

      you are kindly welcome🙏

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Isha says:

      Thank you very much!

      Like

  7. ashok says:

    Heavy dream 😇

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ashok says:

      Pleasure Isha

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Isha says:

      Indeed, thank you for reading!

      Like

  8. What beautiful poems you write!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Isha says:

      Thank you!

      Liked by 2 people

  9. Opher says:

    Perhaps we’re all poltergeists?

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Isha says:

      Perhaps! Thank you for reading!

      Like

  10. Lol–“His only companion is a sloth” 😀

    Nice how you combine tongue-in-cheek verses with an eerie feeing!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Isha says:

      Thank you! 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

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