Yellow Noose


Hanging on the branch

In the cold wind blowing,

I see nothingness—growing,

And my world is in a tranche.

And it bellowed down upon my feeble mind:


And I am a leaf turning yellow


Redemption is no honour

For the soul so lost and beated?

I was fallen. Broken. Defeated.

And for the troubles of my horror,

And the lowered boom on my existence,

Came, Death.

And I ready the noose—yellow.


The soft wind stayed.

The sun watched me burn

Till I made peace with my urn,

And the fire nobody made.

And will I wear this yellow noose and fall?

No, Death.

Take your guilt, take your despair


I own no place in hell.

My past is past the hour of now;

Ahead of now is a life to plough.

And now is a gift, but not your hell.

I may be doomed and fallen but I hold my soul.

Here, Death.

I’ll face my despair.


Author: Taiwo Raymond G

Taiwo Raymond G is a young Nigerian who loves to write—and read. I see no reason (enough) for anyone to give up on life.

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