Advertisements

Spirit in a Bottle by Andrew Hangsing

SPIRIT IN A BOTTLE

 

‘Twas just this afternoon that I met him,

Whistling, skipping up the winding road,

Picking up loose rocks and patting dogs,

Greeting all he met with a smile, broad;

Never a kinder man nor more full of cheer

Could ever be a passer-by, there.

 

Now he comes a-trudging, zig-zag walking –

His vision not, by veiling Dusk, helped –

Hurling abuses at bemused men

While the confused dogs could only yelp

As the cheerful lad of before now struggle,

Grasped by the spirit in a bottle.

 

A possessed man, a zombie now I see;

His trapped soul, if any, trying to flee.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Follow

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers:

Content | Menu | Access panel
The Writers Newsletter
Assign a menu in the Left Menu options.
Assign a menu in the Right Menu options.