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Nature Allah Poems | Nature Poems About Allah

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

From self-denial Uphill Into Nirvana

i tore my body from home to start the roam
in mind,only  one thing, leave the rotten dome

i left earthly treat, to those with dandy walk
left them in shallow swamp, with gibberish talk

hill is destination, a mind had been taught
aiming a raw feeling,a thought had been wrought

all i needed was a mind and a heart and a feel
with a little lore, and oceans of raw peotic thrill

spot gained, the aim reached a book was laid
the lined hues, the heavenly news, all was read

no word was misspelled, no verse was misread
every thing showed his word in every sense, said

so i picked from nature all the words, made a wreath
the bouquet smelled, only fragrance you could breathe

when your self  makes you look just inside your ego
you will miss the raw beauty gained from nature's flow

and by upward ponder, the whole spirit, you achieve
up where the pure winds blow, you will never grieve

Copyright © True Feeling | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

SK- 4

The silence 
In the roaring of those tides
God is a river

Copyright © viviane leite | Year Posted 2012

Details | Tanka | |

So real

God is not a man
Unlike man, is not greedy
Ever-mighty is this God
He recognize every tone
Unlike man, is ubiquitous

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

What Have I Seen

1

Sunrise, late winter
skunk smell
turkey flock
playful otter, too.

The white heron
a great blue,
white phase,
in the abandoned beaver pond.

Purple clematis
its long-awned achenes
in globose heads
spidery, fiery, extravagant fruit!

To identify or classify
birds by
the complexity or beauty
of their songs.

And so
what is over that
ridge or hill
a sink-hole, a sand dune, a steep bluff.

2

What must I do. Organize
the heretofore unorganized. The rabble
of unemployed child abusers.
Molesters of their intimates.

Are there dysfunctional bird families?
Simply put, they do not survive.
We have hope
that everyone alive is essential,

consequential. We classify
and specify.
The commonplace and everyday
is sanctified.

What happens everyday?
Morning is quiet, everyone at work.
Home writing, watching birds.
Afternoon, kids come back from school.

Evening, watch tv.
Scotch and Star Trek.
Captain Picard's problems eclipse
ours who stayed behind.

3

Pray to Allah
and maybe he will spare you
when he sets the world
on fire.

Where or with who
will I be on that day?
And how many people and adventures
will I find in the wind storm and rubble?

I may live, but will it matter
whether or not I help anyone else to live?
This is no Last Judgement.
Those who have learned or who still know how to live

will survive.
Nobody will go to hell, they will just die.
There is no limbo either.
Anyone who didn't find a way to be immortal is just dead.

So, what am I trying to do.
Organize the unemployed, the welfare mothers
and alcoholics
into a flying chevron of purposeful explorers?

4

The doctor's conscious, organized,
naive attempt to do good,
his legacy, versus the randomness
of the road and the war zone.

There his legacy is his rectitude and natural
rough compassion for the damaged people
he encounters. The difference
between planning a legacy

as if you knew enough to control events
and letting the legacy arise
from events themselves, controlling,
insofar as you are able, only

your own actions and reactions.
The doctor's leadership role such as it was
grew out of not his material possessions
like the car

but his mission, his personal quest
to find the young doctors he had naively trained
and sent into the war zone
where all died.

5

July-a cold city
not as great or as gritty
as I thought, summer theater left
the shoe shine bereft of customers

eyes cold as a bureaucrat's
except for our soles
and their leather. Sweat-soaked
girls, the beautiful ones left town.

Emotionless as a bus.
Sparrows, no chickadees.
All that's important happens indoors.
Exercise to philosophies.

You get what you see.
The panhandlers ask
just once, won't risk
friendship, justice.

No sale today
in the finite city
where, for the shoe shine,
pedestrians are infinite, times two shoes.

6

Faith = wait + trust.
But don't anticipate.
Popper prohibits prediction.
Niebuhr expects destruction.

I believe in God
doesn't mean there's a sketch
of a man in my head. It must mean
all will be well in the end.

Satisfied with snow
or summer. And now
with dying old or younger.
Gold or paper clips. Gulps or sips.

In the final resting place
in the city of the dead
are there all night card games
and sometimes open swims?

Each inch, square, or cube of Earth
brim with grasses and sedges, dragonflies and spiders, sparrows and eagles.
The tiger lily and the water lily and the lily of the valley, the calla lily.
When a girl on a bicycle smiles, that is a smile.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatern | |

A Script To Read Again

This is a script to read again Its wordings are clear- no blunder Each page on its own is a sane It has distinct words to ponder I’m yet to find its replacement This is a script to read again It’s obvious in its endowment A script fit beyond thousand reigns With what I've seen, I've much to gain Those about lives before our own This is a script to read again Can any author beat this Lone? In everything it’s just the star I think its lost can’t be regain It’s the same here and in Dakar This is a script to read again.
28/5/2013

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Sky-Falling Gold

Some complain of snow

Some complain of the cold

But what falls from the sky

Is much more golden than gold

Blessings from the sky

Yet we turn a blind eye

We instead express our disgust

When we could turn our sins into dust

We could pray to alleviate someone’s pain

But instead we scowl and frown on that rain

We could thank God instead of making a fuss

(It’s not like He’s throwing rocks down at us!)

A time to be grateful,

Yet we just complain

We could be making precious du’aa

For major beneficial gain

But it’s easier to grumble

Roll your eyes and shake your head

You may regret not taking advantage of this

When you’re long gone and dead

Don’t delay being

Grateful to your Lord

Let your heart live out

The ‘alhamdulileh’ word.

Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Munaajaat | |

MUSCLE ENVY ANIMUS

Muscle Envy Animus

When I was a child, I played under sky
Climbing trees for mangoes high
Or chasing after a butterfly
I’d call my sis, but she’d only sigh
For she preferred to stay indoors
Playing with dolls, she was such a bore!

For dolls and tea sets I did not care
But I had a single teddy bear
Dragged around by his scruffy brown hair
He joined in my games of seek and dare
Lego blocks, we agreed, were the toys
Starting school, I was one of the boys.

But in the rough and tumble of play
Emerged the true colors of the day
With my thoughts in a sex disarray
I blamed mother and to her I did say
Why oh why, did you make me a girl?
Child, at God, your angst you should hurl!

So with my creator I went on a tirade
All words of praise were put on blockade
I was a club when I should have been a spade!
How could the ‘all knowing’, my soul, abrade?
Silently warring, I plotted plans so animus
On how I could live, anima-minus!

Resolved, I played as hard as the males
The challenge was in the hills and dales
All fine till puberty tipped the scales
And muscle envy became a part of my tale
How easy for them came the strength
While I had to work at such lengths

To this day I still work to preserve
The little of muscle I was served
Both loving and hating it, I observe
The fine and the brutish with verve
For many a well-muscled fellow
Turned a beautiful bull, not mellow

That striated skeletal fibrous cell 
Condemning the weaker half to sell
The strong playing tunes from hell
So I guard my animus very well
It is a most precious half of me
To fight off the many bullies I see.

I am still at war with my maker
I ponder centuries of such stinkers
No end to the number of takers
All male, from philosophers to bakers!
And the greatest fable conceived
Of the evil that was dear oh deary, Eve!

So I’ll say my prayers out in nature
And no preacher but truth I’ll nurture
Animus preserve in girls for the future
For boys are still programmed to torture
I pray for mothers who had no choice
As life’s bearers, why, the null voice?


(5/20/2016 - Munaajaat with Marsiya rhyme stanzas)

Copyright © San Woo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Painted Horizon

I tried writing a poem tonight about the moon's brilliance. It was huge, as it was pale; hypnotic in its rise. The sun's reflection made me think of my own depression because I could see the moon's geography and its mountainous expanses. The darker shades of grey highlighted an elevation untouched by man's wishes. I had a sense of my own biology and its fragility. Like fine China placed in boxes void of upward pointing arrows, my warranty became null and void because of packaging and stacked in wrong directions. The molecular dust, mixed with rust, the ore and iron shavings, I could feel moonlight settle in my veins and I yearned to be a part of the universal order of detachment and attraction. Wishing ocean waves would wash over me as I fought the pull against my toes from lunar confiscation. A sea's toll, the sand that disappears from underfoot, admission into the deep. In my being, I felt all the knowledge Britannica had to offer, and then every answer fizzled away with evaporative tenacity and again I was left wondering about my place in this world, when a few seconds before; I swore, I was sure. The poem ended up being scrapped because no arrangement of words would've compared to witnessing the moon being painted on a deserted horizon and seeing His paintbrush come to rest on an easel.
No, my words wouldn't have been equal.

Copyright © TS Lewis | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

A moment to ponder

 
Let your mind flow as free as the river grows! 
When the leaves appear again on the trees, 
And delicious scented flowers under the sun glow, 
You will see the rhythm from the hive as the bees, 
Get all in frenzy as winter disappears.

Did you ever wonder how it is all connected,
Were you ever amazed at the beauty of nature,
It is all by Allah (God) and His mercy projected,
And for us to embrace His Majestic Splendor,
By His Grace He gives us signs on which to ponder.

Copyright © Nassira Merahi | Year Posted 2008

Details | Blank verse | |

NATURE

       NATURE

To leash and feed a dog
And not allowing to bark at will
Religion of pity and benevolence
Made only to rule over the meek

To confine Ram in Janmabhumi
Amidst Force
To fetch Allah  in Mecca
Amidst stamped
To  take off for Vatican city
For Christ

Man only building the walls

Let the dog bark
Birds chirp
And man chant together:
The glory of  Nature reveal.

Copyright © PRAFULLA SAHU | Year Posted 2011