Abdullah Writing

Lost in an island filled with ghostly faces. Lost souls yearning for shadow fruits In the tree of old hands. Vulnerable soles racing for the ru..

Sweet Fragrance walking in the clouds hearts racing for the golden bricks; Rivers gushing with milk and quenching H2o, greetings from beaming serva..

We can't see your stern ribs with our myopic eyes, we can't lay our heads to sleep on your soaked pillows; Your tears have flooded dams for your ..

A Cup of milk hangs in a colonial market, gushing with pride in the faces of hungry vultures. Man no longer sees his own paragraph, for yester..

Standing behind a sky A cup dangles on one foot in continental breath When black harmattan dried the honeycomb, In a River running with dry tears..

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Compartment 114
Compartment 114