Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Death Allah Poems | Death Poems About Allah

These Death Allah poems are examples of Death poems about Allah. These are the best examples of Death Allah poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme | |

Confessions of a Terrorist...

Behind the dark walls of the prison,
Hiding my face from all in my vision,
Abandoned by my bosses,the terror leads,
I wait to be hanged for my misdeeds.

Now I look back to think….

Important member of the Al-Qaeeda,I was,
Given tasty food, and rigorous training by my boss,
I was taught “muslims are harassed round the world,
To help them, grenades and bombs ,I have to hurl.

Arms and ammunitions to me they gave,
To destroy the world, the path they paved.
Rigorous physical training I was given,
On the path of “Jihad’I was driven.

I felt …”me, a class four dropout from school,
To a fidayeen…oh so cool.”
With pots of money  l was lured,
A place in paradise..I was assured.

Reading the  terror email from the Mujahideen,
I was all charged up and excited to become a fidayeen.
With the ammunitions, I was on my way,
On the path of destruction that they laid.
“Explode bombs, shoot and kill”,
They said “that is what was Allah’s will.”
An obedient student I was in their list,
Little did I realize I was a dangerous terrorist!

As I killed and killed and shed innocent blood,
Suddenly, I was shot and I fell down ..thud!
Interrogations by cops continued endlessly on me,
Confusing the cops,I waited for Al-qaeeda to rescue me.

To my rescue, none from Al Qaeeda came,
Hated worldover a terrorist I became!
No one would come I felt
I was misled! I silently wept.

Jihad would never get me paradise,
Fallen in eyes of Allah, I will never ever rise.
I am unable to bear this and want to die,
And face Allah ? In fear and shame I cry.

I neither can live nor die in peace ,
Forgive me Allah, I cried on my knees.
Old, young, man woman, child I randomly killed,
Was this by Allah, in me instilled?

I repent and feel am cursed by all,to hell I shall go,
What mass destruction on earth have I done? Oh!
I have now to face all those I murdered,
What do I answer them, I ponder.

Spread love and peace is the message of God,
I have now learnt the message of the Lord.
I confess ..”Jihad and terrorism are hated by god,”
I sincerely beg “Forgive me all, forgive me Lord!!”

Kindly note :If anyone wants to comment on my poem, kindly note that I am not a terrorist.
This poem is written by me as a message to all the terrorists in the world that peace and love 
is what god wishes.The inspiration is from the recent attacks in Mumbai.

Copyright © RIMA ANIL.NAIK | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ode | |


You can behead an unarmed man
You can rape a defenseless woman
You can blow up an innocent child

You can burn a book, or 1000's
Attempt to erase history
Spit on the culture of mankind

Here is what you will never do
You will never catch Charlie Brown
Or behead Allah the almighty

You are an army
Of no hearts
Of no heads

The army of the evil living dead

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry | |

The Twelve Angels of Beirut

The Twelve Angels of Beirut

They huddle together in the heavens
Muttering amongst themselves
Confused as any human down below

We bestow upon them the ancient teachings
Not once, not twice, variations to please all walks of life
Yes thrice

They may choose the ancient books they follow
They may keep the traditions yet must adapt to modern intellect
Such literate men who seem not to read

Who can cast his eyes at his child?
Feeling nothing but love and endearment?
Who pray tell us is displeased to arrive at his home at dusk?

Angels we twelve have nourished
We have showed you both love, morality and compassion
Yet ye who divides faith, chooses battle

You so easily prefer to drink blood
Rather than bestow a red rose upon breast
Olive trees so ripe have no meaning at all for you

Like a tree that reaches the sky
All things change, as evolution’s duty dictates
Yet you fight to keep perceptions frozen in time

You cover a woman’s face
When its you who should hide in shame
Modesty is how we bestow good deeds to strangers

It is how we look at our hearts in the mirror
A woman’s beauty should shine to the heavens
Competing only with a mans debonair style of chivalry

Honor you mother and father
Honor your tribe
Not with traditions and rented cloth

Honor with your whole heart
Feed the poor and kiss your enemy on both cheeks
The skies will become your friend

We sit here waiting in torment and anguish
Crying to the heavens that surround us
We gave you hearts and minds

You return us blood and bombs
We are ashamed of our duties
For we have obviously failed you

Forgive us, you tribes of the three branches
We are the twelve angels of Beirut
Whose tears give you your sea

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Oh Syria

Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…

I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man

I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul

I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.

When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you

Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…

Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…

Copyright © Zeki Majed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Leila Alaoui

Cappuccino café

Leila Alaoui

Why does one have to die?
So that we can see the bold and noble heart
That used to beat with passion, why?
Her smile now, heaven sent from the sky

Her beauty would have fooled most men
For it was not her, but through her lense
She observed the burdened and tormented souls
Shining light on their toils, her only goal

Why do they seek Parisians martyrs?
Killing for the sake of hate seems all that matters
Can you slaughter such a beautiful vision?
Or will she hide inside a cameras transmission?

Leila left parts of her all over this earth
Each Photograph of our souls she took
She buried herself in the smiles of hands she shook
Eyes dancing, we saw her photos of beauty… worth

She met her fate at Africa’s door
Coffee and baguette her last meal that sad day
Evil men laughed at the blood they did spray
Her camera fell then to the ground

Her memory shall brighten all of your tomorrows
With her photos and kiss, 
We stand silent in sorrow
One day, the camera, another shall borrow

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose | |


They say the sun shines on the skin of a goddess her hair dark filled with flowers and her skin of silk,
When you see her don't let her go she will treat u like a god and run her silk hands against the ruffness of your skin she will show u the right way to enlightenment her eyes golden brown so deep you can get lost she can see right through you and know the depth of your soul she will speak words so smooth softer then the wind 
Skin so smooth the sun follows her every move.

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Farewell to Mustafa Badreddine

Farewell to Mustafa Bad reddine

We salute you
Murderer of humanity
You have received your just rewards
Zulfiqar has sliced you to pieces
Mohamed spits on your body parts
On examination they saw
The sum of the parts has no heart
You tried to fell the great trees
The cedars of Lebanon
You failed

 Rafik Hariri now has you on a leash
You thought you were Daesh
Your army of hatred
Gives you Hitler salutes
While intellectuals feed you pork grinds
You are now buried
In hells fires with your fellow pigs
In morning headlines of the news today
We Celebrate
At the breakfast table
With bacon an eggs and coffee so sweet
Your death, truly was a treat

This man killed 1000’s in cold blood, Americans, Israeli’s, Jews, Christians and Muslims, for him blood was simply blood. That 1000’s attend his funeral shows you how we have yet to learn about humanity.

Rafik Hariri was the Lebanese Prime Minster killed in a car bombing in old Beirut, organized by Syria and Bashar al Assad and carried out by Hezbollah and Mustafa Bad reddine.

Zulfiqar = great sword

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina | |

cursed to exhale

If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages, 
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could grasp stars and not burn,
 I dig my face into the dirt and find eternity.

i gazed into the jackals eyes and he spoke to me from eternity
he said "follow closely so that i might teach you to exhale
and maybe dear in return a smile upon your face will burn"
an expression lost on my brittle jaw for ages
so i walk upon the crust of the earth now bruised and dainty
yet i feel growth between my toes and swelling in my belly

woe does bewilderment plague me here, tearing up my belly
then a soft green garden snake cradles me into eternity,
i watch her curl and dance across the soil of this dainty
room, she looks back from her slither reminding me to exhale,
have i been lost for all these ages?
or have i simply been afraid to burn?

and thus so is it my place to burn?
for i feel welcomed and smooth yet i have poison in my belly
and tomorrow i will remember the pain of the ages
may i retain the knowledge of eternity
or become bodily again when i exhale?
or have no question that my thoughts and ideas are dainty

i have visions of my presence siting crossed and dainty
breathing barley and quiet as i burn
surrounded by a castle of tones that bring me to exhale
into the mouth of god and back into my belly
i feel my self escaping and gasping for eternity
coming back down to the end of my ages

i could sit and cry for the death of the ages 
but this life i despise growing and rooting, dainty
yes, paltry no, and tattering for the rest of my eternity
yet i recall the jackal and his feet where the earth does burn
and i miss the poison in my belly
it not escapes me, but it crusades me to exhale.

before and after the ages, the world will burn and my body will lie dainty 
on the ground filling her great belly with the poison of eternity cursed to exhale.

Copyright © xtevie fernandez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |


Allahu Akbar!
Heads rolled, limbs frayed, wow!
An ocean of blood, Allahu Akbar!!
Their reason for the season

Martyrs of wiles on these simple lie
Allahu Akbar! 20 virgins tiredly waiting,
Fresh tomatoes winking
it is I

Allahu Akbar!!
Peace in white, simplicity adorning
God in man, man in God

Will peace through these heathen rise?
Or shall their Alleluias ring? Allahu Akbar!
From the east, their tiny star shone
Dome, doom, mime, maim, gbom!
Allahu Akbar!!

Shoulder to shoulder they stood
Allahu Akbar!
Echoing in splaterring flesh
God in man, man in God
Allahu Akbar!

God is the greatest
Senile man plays God
fixing the wrongs of who,

Fireworks in their sky
curl up before lightening kiss the thunder
joy immeasurable facing the star
winking tomatoes screaming I
Je suis Charlie

The Ka'bah, so peaceful
see how it stitches the world
with bombs and explosives
from Baga to Paris
peace offering chanting
Allahu Akbar!

Copyright © OPEMIPO AKINSOYINU | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet | |


Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry | |

Silent Night

Silent Night

Espressos and explosions
Gun shots
Blood ebbing towards the lifeless drain

Silent Night

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet | |

SARAJEVO the anxiety

A wave that grows from deep inside of me
to bring me down I feel it start to grow;
its' only name--is called--anxiety,
where it comes from no one could ever know.

As tiny needles prick my skin, I feel
sensation of a drifting tenderness 
that goes from here to there, and so un-real.
It leads my mind to only second guess

at what's invading to the soul I own
fortelling what has been and what must be
from Sarajevo where my life has grown
into the death I recognize as me.

I'm but a vagrant never meant to know
too soon forgotten like a Balkan snow.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Words For Those With No Voice

Words For Those With No Voice

For every pair of shoes
All the burnt bones and woes
In the millions, in the mud
All died alone

Starving of food and having lost our souls
Our god abandoned us so
Mother father
Sister brother
Fuel for the Reich, we lay slaughtered

Some of us were saved
By those whose honor made them brave
We must salute them all, the bold and the dead
Even if we have only skeletons to mark their stead

Now that time has passed
There will be contests, it will be a blast
Who wins first? Who wins third?
The holocaust deserves no prize
Why must we die twice, this is absurd?

Honor me with a prayer
A poem
A moment of silence
A heart felt thought about humanity
Prose and verse, to remember the atrocities
This is the honor of men of a higher velocity

Never make a circus of the horrific gas chambers
A contest of who makes the horrors more real or titillating
Its not you the writer or the reader that feels
It’s us gassed and burned and buried with our id numbers
Asleep in the fields in slumber

Yellow stars fading away in silence, in tears
No grave markers to shout out of atrocious fears

The subtly of honor is lost on the crass
Maybe it’s them who should be buried under this grass

I realize this is a delicate issue, I wrote this poem only because is of my opinion, that having a contest on such issues unless for specific venues, causes, etc. is somewhat tasteless. There is no right or wrong, this is simply by view or take on things and thus have expressed so via this poem. A contest implies a prize or reward even be it praise, and so to profit from so many peoples suffering, well I have explained why. However that being said, any expression or illustration dedicated to honoring and bringing to the light such atrocities, is a different issue. 

That being said good intentions are just that, no matter how misguided they may be. We should be grateful we live where we are free to express our sentiments, feelings and beliefs, without fear of repercussion, and that by its very nature will mean many have diverse opinions and views on any issue.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet | |


Copyright © 2013

Skittles and a soda
against a gun in its holster?

One day that scream
will be known as a teen
not a heinous lying Fein

What a sinister ploy and twist
with a loaded gun and no fist?

Had everyone sitting and waiting
doomed by a verdict just delaying

Was this just an optical illusion
or, a devious planned conclusion?

Now, this generation too afraid
wearing hoodies will get you dead

But, the Klan was still glad
hoodies they've always had

A verdict they too saw,
ushering in martial law

by: LP
edited: 7/30/13

Copyright © Les Pruitt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

SARAJEVO - the Sniper

      SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care 
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there

his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.

His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.

     All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
     and ended life to make his day complete.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |



The iron core of the whole family
She stands with the long rooster
First crow which tears up, praying, and
Goes on laboring till the owl grave hoots
Herald the veiling darkness and darkness
Is life, and might. 
But also death and weakness.
The hoots made me feel so small when 
A child, and think of mother to soothe me,
For I had fears, and my people's fears were
Forced upon me too. 
The twain Angels 
Of life after Death!
Dream of stars, my eyes fully open 
To start
Away from my tiny world full of fairy tales
With the spider as the hero as running 
From the ghosts
Oh, Allah! Lost before standing on my feet!
I like my mom and she likes me too.
She prays Allah to grant me success
And I ask Him to forgive her, for
She’s always been my surest support
Of course she hadn’t been to school
But was a school herself. Proud 
Greedy reader, my friend, be sure that
She’s as divine as your MOST perfect mother.

Copyright © Jaafar Sadig El Waad | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Living to Get Out

We all feel like
dying to get out of here
at least sometimes;
a meeting
a relationship
a job
a car or bus or airplane
a house or apartment
a nation or state
a Party or clan
a faith community or PTA.

This is about  the reverse view:
living to get out of there.

How are my competitive assumptions
hunting for,
and haunted by,
autistic and/or suicidal images and fascination,
anxiety and psychopathology

when does our cooperative intent
hunt most ubiquitously,
omnipresently and generically,
affectively, effectively, and efficiently,
sustainably, optimally, and faithfully,
permaculturally and polypathically,
for love and active peace,
cooperative vocations
equivalent value for natural nutritional systemic merit,
laughter and humor therapy,
rapture and ecstasy,
light and enlightenment,
primally eternal and sacred relationship?

Perhaps when we globally comprehend
that love is to human-nature's spirit
as health is to all nature systems;
that the dynamism of polycultural-polypathic love is to spiritual systems
as the dynamic power of permacultural ecotherapy is to natural systems;
that life is to synergetically cooperative love,
as death is to entropically monocultural terror of eisegetical isolation 
as the reposed destiny of universal prime relationship,
adventuring toward +/(-)(-)(0) negentropic global evolutionary exposure.

Perhaps when we culturally and religiously 
and metrically and scientifically
define Prime Relationship
as (0) Core Vector Beloved Community's Time
and Thermodynamic Double-Binding Temporal Principle
of Harmonic-Octave-Frequency Energy-Optimization Balance
and Sustainably Emergent Systemic-Holonic Climax Communion.

Perhaps we learn cognitive dissonance distinction
between thinking of death and fear as "goodbye,"
missed opportunities,
"that's behind me!"
and simultaneously comprehending dissonance and anger
as "farewell,"
teachable contiguous moments for global and personal well-being, 
love and active peace with justice for each and all,
including Self, Other, and Earth.

When we learn to begin each gathering with passing peaceful pipe,
communing our communion,
silencing our background screams,
co-passioning our minds full together with each Other,
in shared faith that before we can no longer see
whites of each Others' eyes and bleached true souls,
while we share this warmth of Tribal burning bush
DNA-iconic Wisdom-Presence,
we will each and all walk away from each Other
understanding differences between what we need v. want,
AND we will each and all walk toward our global future
with reconnected commitment to what we each and all NEED
to sustain our permaculturing lives and loves,
our racial polyculturing regenetic ribbon rhapsody,
our ecosystemic well-being,
our ecotherapeutic homes and communities
and vocations,
and economic trans-actional systems 
and networks of positively slow-trending information,
and eco-logical scientific revolution of religion,
of nature-spirit paradigms, 
Universal Natural Systemic Wisdom-Tao of Design and Development
with optimal Continuous Quality Improvement standards
and normative-therapeutic Prime Principle 
of P=NP Equivalence
= Yang + Yin 
= (0) Core Time's Beloved ReOrganic Balance. 

"To return to the root is Repose;
    It is called going back to one's Destiny."

Destiny is both new birth cry for air's incoming flight
and final breath extended,
co-arising incarnational,
incubating speciating Space within timeless Time.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

The Owl


Copyright © HevinLea Watson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Seeking accompany

Seeking accompany- Zamreen Zarook
I kick to wonder what made me to cry,
Am really writing as a fry,
Myself launch to be dry,
This ink will be a victim for my cry.
What really went wrong with me all these day,
What made e to forget my last day,
I realized I jumped out of my track yesterday,
So I regret for that, what is called as present today.
Happiness have started to wave hands for this sinner,
Sadness have started to move inner,
The faults that I considered as miner,
So far changed as a miner of a winner.
My face was a comparison to sunlight,
Where as my routine changed it to moon light,
I wish to get that twilight,
As a sinner I started to search for that enlight.
I started to enjoy what is right,
I remade my faults as a kite,
I wished it would fly apart from my  sight,
My system said, you are free from your rubbish weight.
It proved that I always should depend on god,
In whatever the variation of my mood,
He is there to clear my victorious road,
So, I started to live according to His code.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Ashes to Ashes

From ashes
she rises, 
face, hands, feet.
Four months, 
Ten days, 
She mourns.
She weeps.

She clothes herself now
in an adornment of white
bowing privately, 
praying fervently, 
as bitter fumes
of acetone
seep beneath the door.

Her source is god.
Her destination is god.
She pleads with god now
for peace
As men mix and pour
A holocaust
Just outside her door.

Her sisters wail.
They bathe her lifeless arms
And shroud her
as Iris Albicans- 

The imam, he stands, 
Praying silently
As men convey her
towards Mecca.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Never So Gracious

A full moon night to my delight what is so wrong with doing what's right nothing is right after so long no use in complaining time to move on The Dream Water one day might take me away farther from the comfort of familiarity I float on my back then shut my eyes my body now sinking into ocean arms open wide Now swallow your son back to his nature when he is no longer needed to stay here the next generation are dooming themselves they need my experience to guide them through hell Why should I bother on my own, I strive through I turn my back on the thought of bothering to save you alone in this world my, is it spacious I'm finally smiling, never so gracious.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Clerihew | |

In Jesus Alone

This world cannot offer the level of Love,
or the Joy found in Jesus alone,
From the oceans below to the mountains above,
I no longer consider this 'Home'.

Shallow pleasures of Sin, for which I were a slave,
Began many wars of the past,
They Remain beside footprints approaching the grave,
The Door to the Joy which will last.

Copyright © Asa Childress | Year Posted 2015

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

SARAJEVO - Death of a Believer

        Sarajevo - DEATH OF A BELIEVER
In Sarajevo, death, down through the years
is fog of mind not meant to ever be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all too few can ever see.

It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.

Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's nothing left the heart would like to do.

     Old man, you're numbered to your final breath
      and no one cares for all your sweat and tears,
    your rest is not until it's done in death,
      but keep the faith in what you've done for years.

© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse | |

angry for GAZA

Yesterday in GAZA 
I saw a mother's tears 
About his family martyrs 
You don't know how I felt 
I thought I'll kill myself 
I used to ask her (myself) 
How can I go there ? 
How can I help them ? 
Why am not I brave ? 
Especially this time 
Why am I so late ? 
Why do I stay behind ? 
My wall's shade 
I wanted to fight, didn't I ? 
Why am I scared from the fake ? 
Sons of Zion, the wrongdoers by their crimes 
This is a big mistake 
How can I go ? 
In order to show 
To all this world 
How I shall swallow 
This Israel, like the pea 
Mix it with the peach 
I'm not joking here 
It's just I wanna volunteer 
By everything I've, even it's my ears

Copyright © Dr. Demane Mohammed Sheriff | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet | |

Vrbanja - Bridge of Death - Sarajevo 1995

You steal the light when there is none to see
when there is nothing left, you take it all,
For Sarajevo. just the shell of we
stands mesmerized; and backed against the wall. 

Our Balken moon's behind some branches bare
We watch it move so slow and lovingly
until it leaves the trees behind, and there,
is just the shadow of its smile to see.

No one may loose the power of ones dreams
to bathe in sunlight of a brighter day,
we stay to die where love's not what it seems,
you speak to us in words you never say.

Our sniper waits, across the Bridge of Death
in air so cold, we only see his breath.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

For You And Me

It  was  for you and me ,
That Jesus left His throne,
Bore the scourge and agony,
Shivered His flesh and bone,

It was for you and me,
He took the awry tour,
Towards the dreaded Calvary,
Summed His tortured  hours,

It was for you and me,
That Jesus bore the cross,
Paid the greatest penalty,
That death supposed be ours,

It was for you and me,
He wailed the gloomiest cry,
It was for you and me,
Jesus was nailed to die,

Oh, that you and I may see,
Our wickedness beyond measure,
Jesus to set us free,
In our stead bore the torture,

His love mysterious great,
Knocks  the door of all men's heart,
His mighty power recreates,
Renews our lives whole to restart,

It was for you and me,
When on the third day death sufficed,
The savior left His grave,
Victorious he arised,

He rose back to His throne,
Sitting by His Father's side,
Prepare! He's coming soon,
Today is to decide,

Copyright © joselito asperin | Year Posted 2007

Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |

Speaking Soul

  it's time ... our beginning .... our ending
I hear them crying...
as they carry me on their shoulder...
placing me gentle like mother touch,.... down...
I hear their footsteps leaving now... slowly...
 A hopeless sign  start to engulf the atmosphere...

Starting from the womb of my mother...
witness the changes of seasons
from rainfall in spring, to sunshine in summer
.....from falling of leaves in autumn to withering in winter 

As a cold shivering runs through my spine.... 
and a chilling wind begin to blow within my soul....from head to toe..
my last breath escapes from my lips...
It's time to leave and I must go....and meet with its eternal fate..
so it's true ... every soul must taste death...

Beginning of new chapter for my soul... one that is forever..
ripping what its sow... at last , its come heaven or hell..
decide which now... do not delayed...bow down and pray to Allah(God)..
for you will end up in the tomb of the earth as your final destination..
p.s. oh Allah forgive all our sins and have mercy on our soul 

Copyright © Rukiya Bashir | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballade | |

To The Syrian Child

Dedicated to all the children who were
Victims of the conflicts in Syria

You have heard more grenades crack at dawn
As bullets wizz beneath your pale sun-
O Syrian Child! Whose family has been torn
By Taliban glories and Tribal rivalries.

O Syrian Child! To whom pain sets the day
To whom bliss only exists in the books-
You lost your sense of smile
And forgot to dream like every child.

O Syrian Child! before you she perished-
That sweet mother, blown in her parish:
You watched her Kick, as she supplicated you:
"Flee son, flee to Yabroud. Flee!! Alahu agba.

O Syrian Child! She was your only mark,
Since dad had fallen years gone and dark.
The Bomb had gotten her, as it had gotten him-
And now you are left to the world's cruel hymn.

Wipe your eyes, O syrian Child!
The pain bleeds your tender heart-
The terror of your people is a pile:
O child! How I dream you were a blissful lad.

Go down on your mat,
Pray, pray! pound out to Him,
Call out to him, sweet Allah,
He knows your broiled dilemma.

He knows, he knows, O Syrian Child!
Allah knows - that very God we worship.
There are tears in his tender eyes, 
As he watches his people in ruin.

O child! there is a way up yonder
The Lamb rubs his head against you
Urging you to hope for joy by
Looking up to that God, Allah!

Copyright © Gerald Nforche | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Killing in Allahs Name

Killing in Allah’s Name…


Pieces of burnt flesh,

in a school,
a market-place,
a temple,
a synagogue,
a mosque,
a church,

a man,
a woman,
a child,

charred hands, smouldering corpses, fractured bodies,
torn limbs,
dismembered human beings,

just human beings,

dead, murdered,

in Allah’s name…

…A 4 year old boy,
11 year old girl,
78 year old man,
40 year old mother of six,

killed, murdered,

in Allah’s name…

…Gandhi said ‘an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind’…


Complicit by my silence,

I stand in shame,

of the bigotry,
religious fanaticism,
wars of aggression,
invasions of distant countries,
flag-waving ‘my country right or wrong’,
blind nationalism,

perpetrated in my name…

…I refuse to be silent,
to be complicit,

while the slaughter continues,

each day,

in the name of god,
of country,
of creed,
of sexual-orientation,
of caste,

I refuse to be cowed,
to be complicit by my silence,

as the killing,
slaughtering continues…

…You who kill innocents,

you who shroud your slaughter in scripture,

you who drape your aggression in flags,

you who cloak your hate in anthems,

you who veil your intolerance in finely-tuned semantics,

you who bomb school-buses,

have lost.

…You may sow terror,

you may pound cities from afar,

you may wreak havoc,

yet you have lost,


you cannot kill us all!

We shall always be many, many more!


“…all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing…” – Edmund Burke

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013