Death–My sweetest Lady

My sweetest lady
Pour thy sweet wine softly
Into my broken lips

Touch its surface smoothly
With thy sacred feel
Let thy gentle mercy
Serve me its best compassion

For thy hurts serve
Sweet pill to my cancerous skin
And thy wounds merry
The floating deep heart

Let thy sweet rhymes
Streaming from thy holiest palms
Calm my peaceful mind

For thy touch carries
The sweet angel’s fright
Lay my back to thy wooden sheet
To wake my eyes
With thy bright evening’s lamp
To the cold morning’s eyes


About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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2 Responses to Death–My sweetest Lady

  1. Diipo Badejo says:

    Hallo Mike. I have followed your thoughts and poems from the very first day you began to do your posts. I’m delighted each time I read for the fact that such thoughts can still find their ways into a young heart in our time which glories in noise and other sorts of distractions. Keep it up.


    • Thank you very much padre. Your kind words glow my heart! It penetrate every bit of my innermost, bringing a sublime smile on my face. Your words have always been a push to keep using my gift for the greater glory of God. I’m following that path. Thank you always!


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