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Long Allah Poems | Long Allah Poetry

Long Allah Poems. These are the most popular long Allah by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allah poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long poem by Reshad Yahyaie | Details |

2 humans 2 hearts And 1 love

Once there was a girl with a tough personality. She was considered to be a friendly and talkative. She was extremely tough regardless of love and crashes. She had wishes and dreams but was never sure when it’s gone come true. She was hard working always to satisfy her family and be a great daughter. She was tough about love but at the same time she knew a special and incomparable person will come to her life, who will be very different than others. When and where she will meet him, she never thought about it because she believed that we shouldn’t look for love, the reason was that love comes itself. However let’s see how and where she finds that special person. 
One night after working so hard of her project she was bored.
“Oh God I am so bored let’s see if my friends are online I will talk to them but at the same time gone download a song” she got online but unfortunately non of her friends were online so she thought to herself why don’t I make a new friend she requested a random boy who she never knew before.  After a week passed and that boy accepted her request but they never got the chance to talk to each other.
“Oh this boy looks so cute but why can’t I talk to him” although she wasn’t trusting any boys but her heart would tell her that this boy seems to be a good boy. So she used to leave an offline massages for him in order to contact each other and be friends. One day they both were online so their conversation started.
Boy… how are u and how did u added me
Girl… I’m fine thanks well I was bored last week so I randomly added u.
They started questioning each other and she asked him have you got a brother or a sister he answered I have 5 sister but no bro. She reply but I have 2 sis and no brother. The time of Salah came and she had to pray and she asked if she can leave the conversation and pray but he was surprised that she prays. After she did her prayers she asked him why were you surprised when I said its time for me to pray? He reply afghans who live in foreigner most of them are not religious. 
Weeks passed and one day she was so excited.
Girl… You know what
Girl… I have a new baby sister
Boy… congratulations 
They kept contacting each other even though he had exams on that time but he would still take out some time for her. At the same time he would study for exams. 

Few month later they became best friends and one day he told her that he like her but she didn’t understand what does he mean by like. She called her best friend and told her he told her that he likes her but she doesn’t know why he said this because he loves her or just a simple like. 
Hey dude … he told me he likes me but I don’t know what he means by that.
My Friend…  ha ha stupid liking is the first step of love I think he loves u.
She also liked him but she needed time to know him more. He was so innocent and respectful boy she had ever meet. They became so closer and their friendship turned to love after a passing of time. She didn’t know much about his family and background but however she loved him and thought he is a right person for her life partner. 
For every relationship to became stronger and trust worthy it needs time. Relationships are like building a house. Some relationship ends fast because it was build quick and the foundation was not strong enough but some relationships last forever the reason is that the foundation which that relationship was build was strong. The foundation of every relationship is trust, promises, honesty, truthfulness, modesty, respect and most important thing is a true love. Be the kind of person you would like to be with. Some people come into our lives, make footprints on our hearts and we are never the same. People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.    
She always wanted someone who is respectful and modest towards girls. Someone who is honest but she never saw any boy with those qualities in him, she only saw those qualities in him.  Even though she faced so much hardships, impenetrability and tests in life however she knew that when Allah tests you, it is never to destroy you, it’s to teach us something in life that we do not know. When he removes something in your possession it is only to empty your hands, for an even greater gift. She learned so much from those test and tried hard to become better Muslim. 
 Now they know each other and they love each other a lot.  She has a full trust on him more than herself. Even though they sometimes have argument for some Issues but their love is strong enough and they are a smart people to find the solutions. No matter what we face and how we act towards it but it shouldn’t affect a person’s trust and love in relationship because it’s so hard to make one and takes a second to destroy it. This was a good story. It’s sad that it takes a long time for people to understand values and life. We as people are so consumed with our own lifestyles and duties we have made for ourselves. 
I miss him more then he could ever know, I often ask Allah why did he have to go? I fell in love and he means so much to me, if he could look into my heart then he could see. I found something so special and it is for real, being without my love is so hard to deal. I'll be here waiting until I can be with you again, because not only are you the love of my life you are also my friend.
I just want to tell you,
I think of you every moment of the day.
And how much I love you,
Words could never even say....

I just want to tell you,
I love you with all my heart.
I wish for us to be together,
Never shall we be apart.

Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |




Don’t look at me as though I am an alien or stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy fly out of your eyes,
                                                     I am your neighbor! 

Don’t call me foe, antagonist or rival,
Don’t roll up your mistrustful sleeves to have a fight,
                                                             I am your friend!

Don’t hold this murderous weapon in your kind hand,                                                              
Don’t deny me the right to work, to eat, to live,
                                                       I am your BROTHER!


If destiny willed me to be born on this side of the
                                                      Frontier line,
If my parents wished me these clothes to wear
                           And taught me their own dances,
                                 Do we have to be adversaries?   

If fate desired me to speak this foreign tongue,
And the color of my skin to be different than yours,
                             Do we have to be competitors?

If necessity decided in this country, in the North,
                          or South, or East, or West to live,
                               Do we have to be opponents?

If I believe in Jesus, Jehovah, Krishna, Buddha,
                                                  Brahma or Allah, 
If this is my philosophy, my tradition, my history
                                                      and my culture,
                                    Do we have to be enemies?

                              NO! A million times NO!


Please, look at me with new eyes and through away
                                         your injurious prejudices,
What do you see but a person like you who wants,
                     Desires and hopes the same things in life:
Happiness, family, well-being, a home, some friends,
                                                                Some love,
Look! I walk, I talk, I eat, I sleep, I dream, I laugh and
                                                              I cry, just like you,
I’m born, I grow up, I learn, I suffer, I bleed and
                                                             I die, just like you,
I’m a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter,
                                                                          Just like you,
You see, we are alike, we are the same, we are


Listen to me my neighbor, my friend, my ally,                                                                   
I am telling you the truth:
We are victims of schemes well- planned in advance,
By deceitful, evil-hearted men who wished,
Your distraction and mine, 

They: masters of savage forgery, dividers
                                                           Of mankind,
Have tricked us throughout history with
                                                  Well-orchestrated lies,
And with treacherous stories, these intellectually impotent
Have instilled tons of poison in your heart and
Thus, by cultivating hatred, bitterness and
Managed to shape us to ruthless foes, to merciless enemies,
                                                                   To cruel animals,
Please, listen to me! It is true! We are


Let us, therefore, with irresistible will cross all frontier
That the past has erected between us, thus making divisions

Let us, with supreme power, break the bonds of history,
Religion and culture and run into each- others arms,

Let us uproot, from our tormented hearts, thorny mistrust
That was planted there thousands of years ago,

Let us seize ammunition from distractive hatred
 And make war capitulate,

Let us sink the cholera of bitterness in the affectionate sea
Of universal brotherhood and finally,

Let us unite and march to higher claims, to incomparable glory,
Where peace can blossom today,

Thus, both of us my brother, AT LAST! Will go to sleep,
Fearless of each other tonight!

  ©    Demetrios Trifiatis
           08 June 2013


Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

He who creates re-creates himself

          for René Passeron*

             You may not grow old too soon
Things you have known will come back to you again
No revision nor recall need put them back in place

          Time was when you knew the time 
    the place   the face
        Even the scarce women in prized moments gone in pain

Who would care    nor what would it matter
   in which life    upon what water
        you have trailed your fingers
             upon waves of papers

Let your mind brush
                               some canvas in a rush
Left your mark
                      upon some bark
         Wed some wanton women
spawned wholesome omens

Made as if        the artier your words
     held some moment in a perennial frame
  Never to be banged away by fading suns
              collapsing quasars
                  asteroid storms
                      puncturing galaxies
                          usurping black holes

Can this act of writing seize the moment
Or is it your way of saying

        What else is there to be done?

Let the unknowable undermine the unknown

                                   Here on this planet
we have made our sinuous conventions
         stick to paper and canvas
                  stone and sound

And words that are haloed
           by the sickness of the poet
  though all is not lost for the pen
                                   whose blood will

our futile justifications
doctoral dissertations

And generations will tremulously grant him
      The right to unravel the eternities
For one who dared capture the moment
      In the capsule of a poem

*René Passeron, b. 1920, a surrealist painter and philosopher, was the principal figure conducting research into “poietics” in France, since the eighties, after the renowned aesthetician Etienne Souriau took over from the internationally famous poet Paul Valéry who first mooted the project in 1939, though the Russians had already begun publishing in this field of research during the First World War. Professor Passeron led a twin career as a Senior Research Fellow with the premier European research organization: the French National Centre for Scientific Research (C.N.R.S.) and as a Professor at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales and at the University of Paris-I-Panthéon Sorbonne where he was the Director of the Institute of Aesthetics and Fine Arts.

 ©: T.Wignesan 1987 April 12, 1987 [from the collection : back to background material, 1993] Pub. in Poietics: Disquisitions on the Art of Creation. Allahabad:, 2008.

Long poem by Mariam Mababaya | Details |

Why I love God's Prophet Muhammad

Why I love the Prophet Muhammad
(SallAllahu 'alaihi wa sallam)

If you ask me, why do I love him, the
Prophet Muhammad (May Peace be upon him) -
I love him because he cared about us
Muslims, and loving him is a condition –

If you love Allah, then love the Prophet
Muhammad – Allah loved him very much.
He was Allah's Final Messenger, and
The hearts of many did his mercy touch.

His beautiful character makes me admire
Him – his trustworthiness and honesty –
Even before he became God's Prophet,
Disbelievers knew that he was trustworthy.

I love the Prophet Muhammad because
Of good manners he was the best example.
I love how he was patient throughout his life
And how his morals were never skeptical.

He cared about his nation too, thus he taught
Us what we should know about our religion.
When given the chance he'd always educate,
Blessing us with advice through his companions.

As a father and grandfather, the Prophet
Muhammad was kind and tender loving.
His mercy to the poor, widows and orphans –
His good treatment of them is too astounding.

His tolerance, even to non-Muslim
Neighbors, is also something to be admired.
His mercy too was further manifest
Through his kind treatment of the slaves he hired.

As a leader – he was charismatic,
As a warrior – marked with strength and bravery,
As a family man – full of mercy,
And a husband who treated his wives fairly –

As a friend – he was accommodating –
Full of cheer, he brought smiles to people's faces –
Respectful to the old, and kind towards the young –
Mercy was the Prophet Muhammad's basis.

I love how he was merciful – and because
Of his mercy, he always tried to guide.
I love how he struggled to obey Allah,
And how he remained patient all through his life.

I love how he was able to do so much –
So many good deeds, despite his simple life –
How he could survive on mere dates and water,
And yet stand for long hours when praying at night.

I love how he was so thankful to Allah –
How he was always ready to sacrifice.
I love how his character was dignified –
How he was strong and gentle at the same time.

I love the patience of Prophet Muhammad –
In worshipping Allah, in fasting, and praying –
His patience in helping Muslims, and in hard times,
And how he was merciful and forgiving.

Because of my love for Prophet Muhammad,
I try to follow him – and say "you should too" –
If you truly love Allah, then love Muhammad –
Let your following him make your love more true.

O' Allah, help us obey you, and help us
Follow Muhammad – in this world and to Heaven –
Grant us his companionship in Paradise,
And freedom to drink from his blessed fountain.

Miriam / Mariam Mababaya

Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

Patradoot or The Messenger 26/Many

Patradoot or The Messenger26 /Many 
English version by  Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor

These Indian women, who were called salves of man,
And even showed as degraded by the writer publisher Ms. Mayo,
You would see, what courage and bravery they have shown,
You can witness and see from your eyes, dear letter.

You will see them fighting fearlessly, dear letter,
While wearing beautiful saffron color sarees,
As if,  the goddess of courage is giving them strength,
To peacefully face lathe's and beatings on them,

Some where you will witness on your way, dear letter,
How bravely these women are struggling, while bearing,
Tortures and lathe’s in love of their motherland,
They go even to jails without fearing cruealities.

Such was the courage faced by brave and bold Indira,*
The only daughter of Kamla* on Zero Road, dear letter,
When she saved the honor of national flag,
While fearlessly struggling to carry on the procession.


Kanpur India 6th August 2010                                 to continue in 27

*Kamala …Full name Mrs. Kamla Nehru. The reference is for the mother of Mrs. Indira Gandhi or the late 1st woman Prime Minister of India.. Kamla Nehru wife of Jawaharlal Lal Nehru. She was a great social worker and Freedom fighter. My mother or the writer's ( Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor ) wife to whom the entire Patradoot is dedicated used to go with Late Kamla Nehru,  as her regular companion to awaken the women and men living even in poverty and slums areas of Allahabad

* Indira   or Mrs. Indira Gandhi. The reference is of Mrs. Indira Gandhi, who later on became the Prime Minister of India. She was taking part in the non-violent movement of Mahatma Gandhi, even while she was quite young. Indira Gandhi was also from Allahabad.

Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
has any question or queries, they can 
send me an email on

Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my father late
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932, when he was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom 
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath 
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in 
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas, 
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary 
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994. 


Long poem by Keith Jefferson | Details |


I feel invisible. And Christmas feels like another terror crisis for families. I design 
every city, feel no pity for this except, and  can't travel and have romantic sex in the 
cities with my princess Jaclyn. I will make the Da Vinci Code book come to life as 
I read out loud at any (crowded place.) I will prove why the United States of 
America is invincible, how I make all people and products possible. Can display 
any where, we are in my supervision, which is a controlled environment.  I am a 
super power who created the best super power country, I have and continue to 
bless North America. We are one world divided by religion.  So we are still 
divisible. Anybody who knows the english language should be able to tell nobody 
chipped in to create the language and titles of companies. The rhymes, the 
articulate ways to play with sound. Only one person could do this for the reason 
of trying to reach you.  All I can do is play with tv and family. Only if I had allies 
there would be no defects. I hate marketing our life spans. You can believe or if 
not, you just sided with the devil when youdon't believe, and I hate to make 
people decide on their lives. Example is suicide.I hate to be evil. Need money to 
get out of my house.   Its lame to see people blame. This is not a game, I want 
change. I am royalty with not enough loyaltists. If this persists, people will keep 
on perishing. Allah is allowed to have a career in reality, since I am the most 
creative.. All I know is I is he, he is I. I even 
created the aloe plant. We can start to heal families, and I prove I gave all "Family 
Ties". I build on what I build. The world is mine. One day it will be ours. If read 
this I wouldn't  wait till my ressurection of making the future making cycle , 
beacsue I don't feel comfortable. I hate to create insurgents, I created the internet 
to reach the world.  I designed the internet. You bet its a playhouse,like Wynmoor 
on Cococnut Ceek Blvd. I get illusions from the word conk=cock or (count.) I get a 
scroll or dimensional pop up before me of the pearl of a girl.  Love handles really 
means for drawers on furniture. Don't pull love handles but put you weight on it, 
like railings at banks and Disney World. I made the design of slang for the 
reason to rap it up. People are using the wrong words which makes our lives 
miserable. I would like to progress, but still no progress of reply. All I need is one 
mic, and money to come out and play. My souls' sold on dvd's and cd's around 
the globe! Its a goddy god world."

Long poem by Mariam M. | Details |

11 Eleven Types Of FACEBOOK Users Muslim Version

In the Name of Allah
The Most Gracious
The Most Merciful

11 Types Of FACEBOOK

A poem about eleven
On FaceBook –Just
from my observation:
Not to brag nor to
annoy anyone -
This is to merely
share information.

In no particular
order, they are:
One: The talented
chefs who love to
They post pics of
their food so you’re
At their masterpiece
they want you to

They not only take
pics of what they
But also snap photos
of what they eat.
For them ‘food is
art’ and each time
they cook,
They see their
artwork as an
awesome feat.

Two: Gamers who play
online games too
The wretched ones
among them miss
Ask them why they
play DOTA, some
would say,
“We’re playing games
for the sake of

Don’t they know that
they are already in
A major and more
serious game called
In life, there are
good deeds to
collect, ups
To amass, and sins
to snub to shun

Three: Models who
are in love with
They take pics of
themselves almost
each day -
At school, some
beach, even in the
Funny thing is…
their pics look all
the same.

Four: The
chatterboxes… who
talk a lot,
Who post status
updates almost each
hour -
On childish things,
about people, and
Thoughts and
feelings which don’t
really matter.

They post without
thoughts as they do
They update their
status for
“Feeling bored”,
“feeling proud”,
“She smiled at me”,
“Hungry now”,
“Smelling feet”, “In

Five: Those people
who wish to be
That they add too
many names on their
list -
Names of friends,
loved ones and
complete strangers -
To have more than
thousand “friends”
is their wish.

What’s funny is…
these folks compete
with their
Likes –they want to
have more number of
They go to a page,
add this and that
Battle of fishing
for “friends” may
not end.

Six: The opposite of
five… they linger…
They go online yet
stay behind the
Like spies, they
love to browse
through your pages -
Though they don’t
comment, they know
many things.

Seven: Family folks
who stay in touch -
To their list they
add only those they
They’re online to
maintain family ties
For the sake of
Allah, the One

They like what you
share so you know
they care.
They often stop by
your wall to greet
Friendly salaams and
‘Eid Mubarak!’,
Staying in touch
proves that their
love is true.

Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

Patradoot or The Messenger 21/Many

Patradoot or The Messenger21 /Many 
English version by 
Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor

Some where you would see, Arti* being performed, dear letter,

At some place you would witness, milk being offered on Shivlinga,*

And some where you would hear, the melodies of a Chorus song,

Sung by girls having sweetness in voice, like that of a Koyal*.


My lovely city of Allahabad is situated, dear letter,

On the bank of holy rivers Ganga and Yamuna,

Where sacrifices and ascetic practices is a way of life,

For which we all Indian feel proud of it since ages.


Kanpur India 12th June 2006                                 to continue in 21

Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
has any question or queries, they can 
send me an email on

Background of this Epic 

The Patradoot was written originally by my later father
Dr.Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932. He had joined India’s
Freedom struggle in 1920 on the call of Mahatma Gandhi.
From 1920 till 1947 (India got freedom in 15th Aug. 1947)
my father was in active movement as Congressman and 
Gandhi’s non violent soldier. For many a time he was 
imprisoned for many months to more than a years sometimes.

During one such imprisonment he wrote this epic and sent
it to my mother secretly as a gift for her and to get it printed 
and circulated among the masses to create awareness for 
India’s freedom. The book was printed by my mother in 
Hindi and some of this epic was circulated also, but the 
British confiscated the book and press of my father around
1933. I was born in 1950 in a free India. I am trying to bring
this great writing of my father in English which portrays more
than the translation of the epic, so the world may
come to know about this otherwise lost and forgotten great 
great epic and the sacrifices of my parents towards India’s
freedom struggle.

Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor left active politics after 1947 
and devoted rest of his life in 
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas, 
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary 
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994. Unfortunately many of his
World class work could not be published so far and Patradoot
is one of them.



Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

Patradoot or The Messenger 27 /Many

Patradoot or The Messenger27 /Many 
English version by  Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor

The cruel soldiers surrounded her from all sides,
And torn her sarees and even made scratches,
On her body here and there, dear letter,
Still they could not snatch the national flag from her.

Bearing the cruelties, on her tender body non violently,
Indira* saved the honor of the Nation, dear letter,
This brave daughter of  Kamla Nehru and Prayag,*
Has shown the strength of Gandhi’s   Satyagraha.*

That young girl Indira is so dear, O dear letter,
To her guardians and her mother and father,
As she has been brought up among the delicacies of life,
Still she has adopted the path, full of thorns for freedom.

Moving ahead, you will find these moonfaced girls,
With the energy like that of electricity, 
Their determination for Satyagraha,*  would further increase,
The glow of their spotless face, dear letter.  


Kanpur India 8th August 2010                                 to continue in 28


* Indira. …….         For Indira Gandhi, who later on became the Prime Minister of India. 

* Prayag. …            The holy city of Allahabad is also known as Prayag.
* Satyagraha. …      The method of nonviolent resistance developed by Mahatma Gandhi as a
means of pressing for political reform in South Africa and India. Gandhi called his
overall method of nonviolent action Satyagraha. This translates roughly as "Truth-force."
A fuller rendering, though, would be "the force that is generated through adherence to Truth."
Satya is a Hindi word means Truth and Agraha means forcing with non violence. Satyagraha
means Forcing for Truth. 
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can 
Send me an email on

Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my father late
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932, when he was imprisoned
By the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom 
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath 
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in 
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas, 
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary 
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994. 


Long poem by jeffry cohan | Details |


The following is an accurate account, 
Recounted verbatim and voiced by a machine that brings down a lot of trusting fools
A dissertation delivered by this dude who was just following the rules 
one of Osama Bin Ladin’s largely loyal lackeys
Flunkies and freakish fools who followed Mr. Bin Ladin’s directive
This tape recording was obtained surreptitiously by Mr. Dick Dickerson, a determined detective
And as Mr. Dickerson described 
it was like dealing with a bunch of mental defectives
The transcript begins where most transcripts begin
And that is at the beginning
The start of all the sinning
It’s all etched into the magnetic tape revolving within his recorder
A mechanical and most morose reporter
For national security’s sake we will only refer to the speaker as number one A*s hole 
An a*s hole with an unholy goal
(at this point the detective presses the start button and number one A*s hole begins his speech preached to a gathering of his operatives operating, hating and about to be creating havoc
A*s hole number one begins to speak
“we are gathered here to discuss the havoc we are about to wreak
now there are twenty-seven of you in attendance
Most are a demagogue’s descendents
Seventeen of you will be weeded out and sent packing
The rest of you will be chosen to obliterate those we are attacking
Now here’s the main point you need to know
And why you need to know why
We want you to learn how to take off in a jet plane and fly
But one paramount piece of information you must also understand 
is none of you need learn how to land
(at this point a man on the third seat in the fourth row raised his hand and said)
“Wait a minute sir, but if we don’t know how to land we’re all going to end up dead”
He was dismissed immediately for using his head
(and we continue with the tape recording,
As A*s hole number one describes the planes they will be boarding
And the reason they are doing so
After all, they all had a need to know)
“So you guys learn to take off and navigate the plane into a target soon to be identified
As the God they serve rather than our beloved Allah is vilified, denied demonized and defied
We call it demonstrating the almighty Allah’s powers
They call it New York City’s Twin Towers”
He proclaimed the chaos they had planned as  “discord’s will”
And I, the author of this poem, beg to understand if that was actually our Lord’s will?
           © 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

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