Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
My Sins – Zamreen Zarook
Oh God you are so gracious,
Am a guy who have done since in capacious,
At times I have being as a carnivorous,
But it charged ages to identify as dangerous.
Since are being committed behind the screen,
Even it started at my thirteen,
Mirrors used to say that I am evergreen,
Whereas my since were always unseen.
In enormous number I have executed,
But for every count, high privacy was aborted,
Simply because of your blessings we are bracketed,
If not, we are already being quoted.
Oh God, I understood your kindness,
Here after I won’t commit since in others absence,
However much chances I get to access,
I will always have heaven as my address.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013
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
A FULANI GIRL’S COMPLAINT
I carried water. I did all the house cores. I drove and bred the cattle one and alone, singing songs, running and climbing mountains. I milked, sold milk and bought you silk. I ground the corn and cooked your meals. I woke up on the peak of the seasons and carried duties; I did all these to be given to a wild hard-looking stranger like a cowry!
I spent my whole youth among trees and beasts in eloquent silence away from siblings, aloof! I learned and loved God through things that spoke to me, indented, with neither paper nor pen. I wore a strange hat and a stiff piece of cloth that fell on my knees revealing my bony legs; I had strings knotted around my waists and wrists and neck to be betrothed to a wild hard-looking stranger who swept me as if I were a cow for sale, reaped my inward garment and damned my virtue! His words are swords; his horn is a worm that eats in me, wholly!
Oh, Aunt! You fastened my tongue and sold me like Dauda’s slave who would quit me by day leaving me starved, empty bottles and pockets in Gbaya’s tins. Aunt, don’t care the whips, the solitude, the empty stomach, the hands that hurt like electrical cords, but, my aunt, his words are worse than swords and I miss my olden days, the twilight, the humanly beasts I forsook for the beastly human, mother’s looks that hook the heart, oh, I miss my old self!
Galim (Tignère), April 22, 2012
Jaafar Sadig El Waad
Copyright © Jaafar Sadig El Waad | Year Posted 2014
I don't know if you realize it or not,
but, as we have discussed previously,
the connection between us,
is rooted in what Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala
put in our hearts,
and in contact.
Subsequent to my previous
attempts to communicate
with you on this subject,
I have noticed a pattern.
Every other week
I am banished
from your inner circle.
Every other week.
I don't know if you realize it or not,
but this creates a pain
that goes to the inner core of my being.
And it is so unnecessary.
The key to peace,
harmony and happiness between us,
was, is, and will always be
You have so often said
that I am a part of you.
Can you tell me then,
that you do not feel a loss
for each day that passes
wherein you find yourself
purposefully stopping short
of reaching out to me?
How do you think
this makes me feel?
I have adapted myself to many things,
but the thing that I find no solace for
is the loss of your touch.
Please tell me,
What is the price of a hug?
Is it really something you cannot afford?
I do my best to stay out of your way
when you are working on something;
I do my best to not make myself
an annoyance to you.
I wait patiently for you -
having proven repeatedly
that all you have to do is call for
...or reach out to me...
...and I am there...
So imagine my confusion and frustration
the pain that seers through my heart
when you leave me for days on end
without a single touch.
Wallahi you don't even know
the tears I have cried
longing for and missing you.
If I am being punished,
at least tell me what for
...I can't fix what I don't know...
Tonight you suddenly cared
if we prayed or ate together
wallahi...that made me feel
like a battery operated toy
that can be turned on
and off again at whim.
It's not like that
...I am hurting inside...
and I have silently suffered
without any explanation as to why
you cannot even find yourself
...able to touch me.
I told you how I had missed you
and how I had been crying,
sentiments that seem to have fallen
on deaf ears
...or so it has seemed...
because here I quietly sit...
...alone with my shattered heart...
"What is the price of a hug?"
Copyright © Aishah Schwartz | Year Posted 2006
Carry not my love with a sigh.
Let it not drag your steps, pull you from behind.
Weigh not your heart with guilt and regret;
Grieve not over the good and bad Allah set.
Let my love fall on your shoulders, light as a moonbeam;
Let it be a faintest blush of colour on the canvas of your dreams.
Let it be a breeze that ruffles your outstretched wings;
Let it echo every note you sing.
I shall remember your smile
As I count my miles.
I might stumble, even fall --
Pray for me but do no more.
For such is my love for you,
For it runs pure and true,
For there is One who
I love more than you.
When the passions of this world come to fade,
We shall meet in a far better place --
On a day when there is no shade but His Shade;
When through the Fount of Abundance the faithful wade.
When the Promise is delivered
When we are gathered among Believers
I shall search the eyes of Strangers
I shall come to you as a Stranger
And I shall love you far greater.
Copyright © Christy Chiang | Year Posted 2011
You keep your fasts to please Allah
while you murder other beings for pleasure
You look after your own interests
and so not see the interests of others
What good is your word
you say the One Lord is within you
But you do not think or contemplate on Him
you do not care for others
You are mad about religion
this is why your life is wasting away
Copyright © Nigel Fox | Year Posted 2012
I woke up this morning and I took my breath,
prayed to Allah that I took that step.
Making it's hard but I cooked what's left
and saved the rest for the family
can of peas
that I took off the shelf,
you understanding me.
I have dreams so everyday I stand and freelance styles
it's been the same process sense I was a child now,
I write a song every other day the other days
I discover ways to put a buck in the bank hussling.
We all struggling, financially I hate
to see my mom stumbling loosing her job again.
Forget sobbing when the times get tough,
put in overtime at my job
dimes stack up, it's not enough....listen.
Bills rack up out my checks they take half
I spend the rest on food and music you do the math.
Everyday is like another step taken,
we're in the same boat all trying to make it.
I know it's people that think it's fine where I'm at,
but they haven't seen through the eyes of Iraq.
Suicide bombers take lives they die fast,
even little kids hold knives that slice back
at US militants, orders from Bin Laden
land hold killers even innocents get blasted.
Car bombs go off,
youngen buying bread for mother
gets his leg blown off for him it's so hard.
That life I want no part so Allah
I fight through life writting like I've been
struck by the venom of white vipers.
Might not see the next day the best way
to write until I'm dead face
down shot up from tech spray.
I live and die for the music
it's all love don't try to confuse it.
Until then don't judge my soul, I know
you know the feeling let's roll we in the same boat.
Copyright © Bakari Wright | Year Posted 2007
Nepenthe- A solemn sip to relax like wine.
A grape like liquid from a freshly sprouted vine.
Yet it not doth to numb a pain- such as Nepenthe
as wine only sweetening my tongue and tooth to wealth
And only the Allah has gifted me his wine- because its soothes
rather be drugged to only pain that yet strentgthens like booze.
Copyright © brittany martin | Year Posted 2007
I do not know?
Another day like so many others
With American's blood spilling on foreign sand,
So many wounded and so many lives have been lost
There are so many led to heaven by God's hand.
How many soldiers do we have to sacrifice
To satisfy this political and useless war,
We can not win against the Arabs
For they just keep coming back for more.
They sacrifice their own women and children
Arming them with bombs and other war fare,
So they can hide behind them in cowardness
They it is what Allah wants, but they do not care.
The militia has fought for hundreds of years
They will not allow an Iraq government to be formed,
They abhor Americans and our troops interfering there
So they will keep killing them as they have warned.
Keep our troops safe while they are there
May God bless them for what they stand,
Because they are brave and will keep fighting
Till God leads them out by his hand.
Their children are growing up without a parent
Having to face life the best they can,
Though they know they died a hero
And was lead out by God's hand.
They know they will have to be very strong
Yet still some are to young to understand,
As they grow older and understand what happened
May God give them strength and lead them by his hand.
Copyright © Connie Cooper | Year Posted 2006
There are people killing themselves to kill in the name of Allah
They turn themselves into human bombs to destroy me
So I took a second look at myself my life and my objectives
Is it wrong to be responsible for my actions?
Am I mistaken in my desire for as much freedom as possible?
Did all those people that died to protect my way of life err?
Have I followed reason too far to surrender to fear?
I am now firmly and deeply convinced that these people are idiots
Blinded by faith, believing in a god of Terror, afraid of being alone
Following crafty fools who cannot change their ways
But who survive by blaming free thinking lovers of liberty
Which is the one thing they know they’ll never attain
If we all chose Allah they would kill us for choosing freely
Now comes the Celtic answer to this people dying to kill me
Let me help you
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
>I do not know if this classifies as poem as it is slightly religiously, political.
Muslims here, Muslims, there.
From Turkey might soon be everywhere.
Will they be from that peaceful faith?
And full of love, full of faith.
Turkey, if such a nice place.
None would leave that place of faith.
I wonder if what I said is true.
And millions move towards you.
By you. I mean in the EU.
I wonder if we'll be there too.
As Turkey Prime Minister said June too.
I guess soon they will be everywhere.
Spreading their peaceful way here and there.
Hope we keep our heads, so we can go.
Inhabit the lands they have left so.
We can enjoy the warmth from the Sun.
Of course here they can moan and groan.
As pay a fortune to heat our old homes.
We won't care, as we will be.
As warm as toast as Christians be.
As Muslims, none will be left there.
We had our wars I must confess.
But could inhabit the holy land, no less.
As all who lived there are over here.
So we could emigrate with no fear.
And be warmer. Did you hear?
They will be warm in their Burke's here.
We could sunbathe with little fear.
They could blow their homes all up.
While we rebuild. Nice ones with luck.
They can wail into the air.
We can sunbathe over there.
Christians where they ought to be.
Where Christ and his disciples trod, you see.
Muslims can be in the cold.
Moaning about it as I told.
I wonder how long it will be.
They will be crossing over the sea.
Taking back from us Christians again.
And we returned to Great Britain again.
No doubt we will have to rebuild again.
And clean up all the mess again.
Then bless in a two years again.
Start the whole process over again.
If I write again. Any more.
I will explode. I do implore.
Not as a bomb. Oh, not like them.
But just with words from me pen.
I hope it's not too you know, for anybody. (The mad author)<
Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2016