Poetry

ASTAGFIRULLAH By Bada Yusuf Amoo

Written by Editor

I got a chroma on my conscience
Between white and black
I stretched my hand over the hearth
It was a patch of silence or low violence
I gargle some red coal in my mouth
It was either fear of God or love of God
That retired me into solitude and consciousness
Like a snail walking on little salt.
I am trying to rebuild myself
After noise and stench; lust and sterility;
All sins fit with man like coat and tie.
It was really a field of garden eggs,
green and white; and some tomatoes,
Red and ripe. But some pulp and putrid came in
Because we are humans and flesh.
There was this globules of ashes on my imagination
Though I know I love, yes I do
But I am here to seek forgiveness
And to you oh God, for what you know I came
In regret, I say astagfirullah, astagfirullah, astagfirullah!

About the author

Editor

Bada Yusuf Amoo is the publisher of thespeakingheart.com. He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.

DEAR EXCELLENCY, YOU ARE OUR NUMBER ONE VISITOR, WE VALUE YOU! Dismiss