Best Prophet Poems
The Prophet
I read the words of a poet
From the days of tomorrow
His verse flowed backwards in time
And rhyme
I, a fair maiden, doomed to a fate
Of obligations unseen
If only the book on my lap
Was not ahead of my youthful station on this earth
Verses seeping with promise
I long for the voice of this master of the pen
I day dream, and lose my place in this world of pain
To hear his softness in the blowing wind
Alas it must be the times he lives
No man can carry such passion
Inside a book within a book of dreams
Yet, here I am, to ponder
The romance of a tomorrow I shall never see
I am doomed to village laws and customs
A stoning that is so unjust
For I unveiled my eyes to the world before me
Staring into the depths of mans possessive hatred
I ran in fear, I ran towards the forest of hope
As they drag me by my feet
The book clutched close to my breast
Bloodied and in the moonlight, I open it
To find out, even in the future of majestic noble poets
There lies evil still
Stealing the breath of innocents and infants
I hope one day
I shall meet the author of these words
I may slap him across face for my silly fantasies
So long I dreamed the world would change as does the seasons
For better days filled with peace and kindness
I hope one day
I shall meet the author of these words
I may plant a sweet kiss upon his soft lips
Singing of songs he has long forgotten
I slowly wrap the rope around my neck
They will not stone me
They shall not claim any victory over me
The poets words, hidden deep between my legs
Shall melt within my soul
For better days filled with love and kindness
I shall kiss him sweetly in my death
sight...
a prophet's mark unsheathed
radiant, quell the shadow's scream
her lips were never meant for me
in auguries
... blood uncharted
Cool street breath
Presses on him as he curls beneath the bridge again
Mind Flickers
Bright scraps he can’t hold…slipping off like ash in rain
Still he collects
Every stray spark slicing through the static
Hoping one
May burn long enough to start him over
I am living steady
I am moving steady
In unsteady times
Keeping my balance and smiles
Though the world is unsteady
Keep moving and ready
To meet God in His kingdom
And live forever in freedom
Glorify God in good and bad times
So that you can overcome at all times
Cause the devil goes around
Stalking victims to run aground
Jesus the rock is ever steady
He is ever ready
To save those that trust in Him from troubles
As the devil strikes His grace is doubled
Brother Thomas was a preacher
Who knew the scriptures well.
He asked people to follow him,
And he'd save them from Hell.
One night while he was working late,
A man entered the church.
Brother Tom thought He was homeless,
Or on some kind of search.
The man was welcomed to the church,
A smile lit up Tom's face.
He said, if you seek salvation,
You've come to the right place.
This temple of God is Holy,
And I minister His word.
If you put your soul in my hands,
It will soar like a bird!
Those questions you've been burdened with,
Will prove a simple task.
I hold degrees in all of this,
You only have to ask.
But the man just starred right through him,
And then began to pray.
He said, "did I hear correctly,
In what I heard you say?"
"You have called this temple ‘Holy’,
Yet only God is so.
And you say you have the answers
That lost lambs need to know."
"Those degrees you so proudly wave
Were earned in schools of man.
But the heart was our Lord's classroom,
Since man's journey began."
"You claim to know what is the truth,
While pushing God aside.
And those, with whom you disagree,
You censor or deride."
"To follow the road to Heaven
A soul must walk alone.
How can you say you know my path,
When you don't know your own?"
Brother Thomas became angry,
Demanding that He leave.
You cannot come into my house
Intending to deceive!
"As you wish" proclaimed the stranger,
"You've asked me to depart.
But don't forget what I have said,
Let it grow in your heart."
And when He turned to waved goodbye,
Tom spied the stranger's hands.
He saw the scars, and heard Him say;
"Your Father understands."
To preach to Ninevah was not his wish -
So sailing west, the prophet disobeyed.
When God appointed wind and storm and fish
To punish, teach, and save him, Jonah prayed:
"I called out to the Lord in my distress,
I cried for help from deep within my grave.
With songs of great thanksgiving will I bless
Your name. You answered me - I know you save.”
Then preaching holy wrath, he watched the city
From low to high repent and seek the Lord.
God showered all with mercy, love, and pity
Then Jonah's faith he patiently restored.
Three days; salvation; grace; all intertwine
As Christ's prophetic resurrection sign.
Our Ancient Prophet
In a city of steel and glass, where neon signs blaze bright,
Our prophet (PBUH) walks among the shadows of the night.
His eyes hold ancient wisdom, his steps a timeless grace,
He moves through crowds unnoticed, a relic out of place.
In alleys dark, he whispers truths that echo through the years,
His voice a soothing balm for those with modern fears.
He speaks of love and kindness, of peace in troubled times,
His words like ancient verses, unfolding sacred rhymes.
He wears the garb of ages past, a robe of woven lore,
Yet in this age of chaos, his message is the core.
He sees the hearts of people, their struggles and strife,
He offers ancient solace in the turmoil of modern life.
Our prophet (PBUH) sees the future in the city lights,
A world of endless Jihad and ever-lasting fights.
He warns of greed and anger, of paths that lead to woe,
Yet offers hope and healing for Muslims who seek to know.
In markets bustling, in subways deep, he finds the weary souls,
He guides them with a gentle hand towards their hidden goals.
A bridge between the epochs, a whisper from the past,
He stands a timeless sentinel, his wisdom built to last.
Though time has tried to hide him, his truth will never fade,
For in the heart of every Muslim, his teachings are relayed.
An ancient prophet, living in the now, his presence still so strong,
Reminding us that in our hearts, his timeless words belong.
Prophesies by seers may be derided and prophets may be lampooned. But time may prove them right" By Poet.
There was none to listen to him.
His words were like:
-A cry in the wilderness
that broke and shattered on woody trunks.
-The howl of a lone wolf
that rose in the dead of the night.
-The cry of an infant
that told the world, it was hungry.
-The cacophony of discordant orchestra
that left a jarring effect on the listeners.
His words sounded meaningless,
to a world that spoke a different tongue.
With no receptacle, his words like heated waters
evanesced into vapour and billowed upwards,
like coils of smoke to freeze into clouds.
One day it rained down,
quite unexpected…….
with thunder and lightning!
I felt like it was coming,
not through buds breaking open,
but through a softness in the air,
like a soft napkin
forgotten on the chest
of an old icon.
No one announced it
not the wind,
not the birds,
not the old woman at the corner window,
threading her days together
with a broken needle.
This spring has no footsteps,
no voice,
only the faint scent of resin
and something holy
that’s already turned to ash.
I asked my mother
if God still has seasons.
She looked at me,
then at a flower in the window
that hasn’t bloomed in years.
“I think He lost them,” she said,
“or keeps them locked inside,
like letters
He can’t bring Himself to open.”
And I understood:
not all springs bring life.
Some arrive
only to teach us
how to stay alive
without shining,
how to die
without vanishing.
A blackbird watched me
with the eyes of a child
who once saw too much light
and now
fears the sun.
And I said nothing,
like a prophet without a mountain,
carrying a single line
pressed against my ribs:
It won’t be long
before the grass
learns how to sing
about us.
Line of inquiry:
“feeling not thinking, soul with love linking ~
we attained God consciousness unblinking”
Open onyx thoughts like a chalkboard
Ready to be written on by the Lord
Use me as rice paper to communicate
Tell me how to behave and what to say
Your Holy love guides despite my sin
Red blood is the ink for Prophet’s pen
Let His blessed words flow on page
May my heart receive it all in faith
With love linking by His stripes we’re healed
Feeling not thinking about what we feel
For He is the beginning and the end
Come even if broken and He will mend
Come if blind and He will help you see
If you’re lost in mind He will part the sea
Of confusion with kind love and peace
Making a believer of you fulfilling prophecy
Come to Him lost and you shall be found
Shaking with doubt He plants on solid ground
He is the stability we need when ship sinking
God carries us consciousness unblinking
Thowrath Moosa Ibrani,
Jaboor Dawood Unani,
Injeel Isa Suryani,
Furkan Muhammad Arabani!
(Moosa-Moses,Dawood-David,Isa-Jesus
The four religions,prophets and the languages
are composed in a poetic form by ancestors to
easy to remember)
Strophe
The polygamist had a big house
Where he chose to warehouse hundreds of girls
And women including 29 stepmothers, his father’s spouses
56 of the girls were each other’s sisters.
And 24 were under the age of seventeen.
Some of the young wives even assisted passions
The pedophile with his sexual assaults
Telling the girls that if they refused to please his preen
In what he dubbed the “heavenly sessions”
They would be “rejected by God’s favorite cult.
Antistrophe
Wives were both the victims of his abuse
And the accomplices subjected to a cruel
World of worship and sexual abuse
And were so indoctrinated and used cool.
Who cruelly bred them for manipulation.
Calling himself the ‘humble servant’ of God
Asking the girls to please God to atone community’s sins
Oh, the wives of the notorious polygamist’s predation
Into the twisted world of subjugation fold
With which he surrounded himself amidst the teens.
Epode
Had a wisdom tooth for his sexual gratification
Raping the young girls in his big house to make housewives
The State of Texas has a big house for lamentation
Where he will spend the rest of his life’s cloves
Well, he will have plenty of time to repent.
And think deeply on the meaning of life
Out of the 50 wives none of the parents got relief
Where are the parents of these young girls tormented?
Does that mean all were brainwashed for strife?
So scary that pedophilia can be masked as religious belief.
.===============================================
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place win in :
Contest: A Toothful Ode by nancy jones
** This is the English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode.
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
Rhyme Scheme : ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
This poem to clarify some of what was brought by Prophet Muhammad pros of good morals and treatment with others. And what is the meaning of Islam and being Muslim
You ask me, why I love this prophet and follow his religion?
I say, because he taught me how to be good
in everything that is good
You ask me, what else he taught me?
I say to you :
He Taught Me
To worship "ALLAH" the true God in the right way
To respect my parents and them I must obey
To help the needy and give the poor
To be gentle, generous and loving my family
To visit the sick and to be kind to orphans
To keep people safe from my transgressions
To love for others what I love for my self
To be honest, faithful, truthful and righteous
To smile to who I know or not know
To live strong. for my lusts not to bow
To stick to good manners and seek knowledge
To greet you by saying peace be upon you
My Greatest Teacher Prophet Mohammed Peace Be Upon Him
Taught me to be a Muslim
A Prophet is not one who can predict future acts.
He’s given the grace to see and relate the facts.
To those who are blind,
he appears most unkind,
And is susceptible to all kinds of attacks.
The prophet Zechariah foretold
Jesus or Father Christ would be sold for 30 pieces of silver