Allah Abc Poems | Examples
These Allah Abc poems are examples of Abc poems about Allah. These are the best examples of Abc Allah poems written by international poets.
On the Desk of Darkness
On a Monsoon Night,
The afflatus roars in clouds,
And albedo fills the sight.
In the darkened gorge,
Among the alleys
And gravelled ways,
A lass on a jade.
Apathy of her own,
Gazing upon the dog in the kennel,
Barking and crying at it.
And when she gazed and gazed upon
The dog of ash on kindlings,
A murmur of sight on her lips,
And a wet eye with a glaze.
With a jolt, she stood up —
The roar now a voice,
The sight now white,
And the white now light.
From sight to light,
And light to white.
The bordello camp
Morning in Aruba, the cock has crowed three times
Men get out of beds that hundreds have slept in
of other men, they are silent, waiting for taxis
to take them back to their ship
Sad men, there is no jubilation here, cigarette smoke
A cold morning beer while waiting for the transport
A seaman, overcome by the tardiness, tries to run away
There is nowhere to run; the whore camp is in the desert
on a desert, sand, bushes, and snakes.
The madman, plied with alcohol, is sleeping.
The other carried him onboard.
In the courtyard, a woman swipes the dance
floor, doesn't bother to look up, when this day ends
They will be back again, or someone like them
will come, here, drink, dance, and pay for sex
Baku and the Swedish cook
It sounds impossible, but 72 years ago, I was
a galley-boy on an old tank ship loading
oil for Iceland, a country with watery beer
Baku, I remember the long avenue, empty
of people and poorly lit.
The cook and I had gone ashore, and we were
the only one who dared me, because I had
not been brainwashed, and the cook who
was Swedish, Stige Hellander, his name, and
a communist
There was a party somewhere near the men
Who wore a double-breasted suit to grow in
and padded shoulder, making them look odd
Oh, yes, they were party functionaries
Stige, the cook, enjoyed himself with free vodka.
They put it in a corner with a bottle of milk
and bars of chocolate, until it was time to go
back onboard, Stige, the cook, sang rude songs
Now, seventy-two years later, I learn that Baku
is not in Russia
Superintelligence
If superintelligence is about collecting data
to find out why young people run, some people don't
and based on this information, invent a mobile bike that
has 3 wheels and runs on a battery. I'm skeptical of
Superintelligence is like your mother's brother who
is divorced, moved into your home, and is telling everyone what is best for them; a snippet of what your dad said
"No wonder his wife left him."
I see it is possible to write your own autobiography, your
name and address, that's it; the book with your name will
be in the post, they have the nerve, superintelligence
Intelligence is most of the time used for evil purposes
Adolph Hitler and Josef Stalin were not duces, not to forget
Netanyahu, who has led the children of Israel down
a disaster, made the people into uncaring monsters like
The Germans felt about the Jews
If superintelligence knocks on my door, I shall not open it because I get so easily impressed that I might be an eager fan.
The Jewish couple
I have written about this before, but somehow
didn't get it right
My perceived brusqueness made them think of Cracow,
they had fled, their relatives lost in the turbulence
of a war where they, as civilians,
but Jews had their life made into nightmares.
There was a small sweet shop near my café,
selling my chocolate with nuts, so
one day, I walked in there to buy a bar of chocolate
The man behind the counter bent down and changed his hat.
His wife reached out and tried to give me a sweet.
The man wore a Panama hat
I spoke English to them, which eased the situation,
this tall Nazi-looking person was not a ghost from the past,
just a person with a sweet tooth.
I bought the chocolate, and we shook hands, told them I was in business to
had a café near them,
The sweet shop had visitors,
and the chocolate I bought had been in the shop too long; it was green.
But when I left the shop, I felt they didn't want me to come back,
I reminded them too much of the horror of Cracow.
Haifa Oranges
The sky is light blue or pallid
It is late afternoon
Clouds are burgundy and
The sun is a Haifa blood-orange
Picked by a Palestinian
Gnarled hands.
That was his land, but a historical
Tremor came
He has resigned; this is Allah’s will.
But his sons think otherwise,
Blood orange, one day
Blood will overflow, run down gutters
As we have another tremor that
rumbles on an everlasting family feud.
A Poet Road
Now that it is hot and the sun has turned from
a warm friend to a raging enemy, what did I say
to make it so burning hot?
I`m up early and drive around, stopping and take
pictures of growing plants before the rampant
sun makes them lose all colors.
Then, before I knew it was ten o’clock time to
sit indoors watching the miserable news
and trivial entrainment programs.
The bushfires of terror are something we have to
live with until we learn to clear the undergrowth
and when needed...brutally weed.
I’m thinking of a man who has a small field of
the greenest vines, every day he tends lovingly
his bushes, you see, we should not be too kind.
On the other hand, we cannot poison the land
with pesticides to save a plant we like and
forgetting that all life has its place.
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Morning poem
From a prince’s shining light will it be possible to see the beginning of the day as it was before dawn the moment before it was unkissed by anyone but you before life began as the story go And no one knew what to say about the day
Before anything was born leaving the darkness behind like an unwanted dream of what was before the light was born
Is it not possible to see what life was before the mountain kissed the shore unseen by anyone but you not yet awake to understand the wonder of a new day so never mind the light if you have seen the beginning of the day the last kiss before I die
I shall say no more.
Syria’s Christians and Haiti
The first Christian church was built in Syrian, as I write this the horror is killing them the new death cult regime in Syria, a cult we give money to, and not mentioned by Western media as Israel continues to bomb Gaza to their hearts content This is only possible when the bombs are free of charge courtesy of the USA
On the home front, we read about erectile dysfunction, no they are telling me who thought
my own problems were caused by the old age
Haiti, the sad state is in the news again, last time
I was there, Papa Doc, was in power he employed
Thugs, sunglasses, and sports shirts to keep order
but they harassed shopkeepers to hand over money, when Papa died his son took over, he was an idiot and any resembles of order fell apart
Port-au-Prince was a beautiful city, but now it is a vast criminalized slum, Haiti has always been poor and met resistance from other countries who were against a black sovereign state. It never got the help needed from white societies who said slaves could not a country make
The whispers rise, a gentle plea,
A call to hearts, to turn and see.
The path we stray, so far astray,
From light of truth, we lose our way.
The world entices, with fleeting grace,
A mirage of joy, in time and space.
We chase its shadows, blind and lost,
Ignoring whispers, counting the cost.
Our hearts grow heavy, with guilt and shame,
A burning fire, consuming the flame.
We seek solace, in empty things,
While true peace, on high it sings.
A hand is stretched, in boundless love,
A chance to mend, sent from above.
Repent, return, with humble plea,
To the mercy vast, eternally.
The door is open, wide and bright,
To guide us back, from darkest night.
No matter how, we've gone astray,
His love can cleanse, and light the way.
So let us rise, with tearful eyes,
And seek forgiveness, in the skies.
Return to Allah, with hearts sincere,
And find true peace, forever near.
* Sehrab Sathoo
In her hands a white bandage
slowly wraps around an arm, withered from 93 years of life
the fall wasn't fatal
and we thank God for that.
Stay at home and pray
we were never told that, but we know that it is right
fingertips lose the feel of anyone else but herself
but it isn't about you right now
so, sush.
still the thought creeps up like the ebb of water
time has been standing still for so long
all the horses are out in the open, green fields
all that remains is indoors
repeated reminders to myself
"flowers grow from winter all the time"
be patient
take care.
The whistle blew, signalling the start of my journey,
Aboard the train, my degree and future bright and blurry.
3000 km to travel, 30 hours to spend,
I settled in, ready for the adventure to begin.
I put my bags down, beneath my seat,
Letting myself rest, my eyes to meet.
But fate had other plans, for I was soon awaked,
By strangers, who in my native language spoke.
They talked to me, and I was all alone,
But their kindness and warmth, I'd soon know.
They gave me sweets and showed me the way,
To pray to Allah, the only merciful, they'd say.
We prayed between the seats, cramped and tight
, But their sincerity, made everything right.
They took me in, and showed me the way,
To Allah, they led me, with love and grace.
They were like angels, sent to guide,
My heart was filled with love, my soul purified.
In that moment, I found my repentance,
Thanks to these strangers, Allah's holy message.
May we all find such moments of grace,
And be led to Allah, in this life's race.
For in the end, it's love and devotion,
That bring us true satisfaction and salvation.
There is something in my life when night comes my mind.
As-Sirat is according to Islam, the bridge which every human must pass on the Yawm al-Qiyamah ("Day of Resurrection") to enter Paradise. It is not mentioned in the Quran, but is described in hadith.
As-Sirat is said to be thinner than a strand of hair and as sharp as the sharpest knife or sword (because of its danger). This path are the fires of Hell, which burn the sinners to make them fall. Those who performed acts of goodness means Sirat-e-Mustaqeem in their lives are transported across the path in speeds according to their deeds leading them to the Hawd al-Kawthar, the Lake of Abundance.
https://youtu.be/elklimHYcgc
Jagdish (7)
Bajantri (8)
June (6)
7+8+6=21
With love all
Jagdish Bajantri