Author's Note
In February 1258, the Mongol army led by Hulagu Khan sacked Baghdad, the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate. It marked the end of the Islamic Golden Age. Libraries like the House of Wisdom were destroyed, and countless books were thrown into the Tigris River until the water ran black with ink and red with blood. Scholars, artists, and civilians were killed. The destruction ended centuries of science, medicine, and philosophy, and showed what happens when cruelty replaces knowledge and forgiveness.
When Baghdad Wept-CM
Cruel hooves marched, and cities bled,
Cold steel struck, and scholars fled.
Wisdom burned while rivers ran,
Words turned ash in Tigris span.
Mercy slept while towers fell,
Golden age was lost to hell.
Yet kindness waits in hearts to rise,
Forgiveness blooms in humankind eyes.
River to the sea
long road to that better land,
who knows what we'll find
Bayt al-Hikma
Ancient pages breathe.
Books outlive every throne.
Ink crossed rivers.
The library vanished.
Knowledge shapes tomorrow.
Its wisdom still walks with us.
Boom-boom-boom
Boom-boom, IRGC
This is what you get
For all your evil deeds
Boom-boom-boom boom
Boom-boom-boom boom
Boom-boom-boom, boom-boom, IRGC
This is what you get
For all your evil deeds
Boom-boom-boom boom
Boom-boom-boom, boom-boom, IRGC
This is what you get
For all your evil deeds
Boom-boom-boom, boom-boom, IRGC
You brought this on yourself
Now you hide in bunkers
It is what you need
The IRGC caused suffering
Now they're feeling it
F35’s now fill their skies
Another Ayatollah’s been hit
Shoot at the UAE
Say it's not your fault
The World sees clearly
Go and hide in a hole
You funded terror
Now your body has no soul
Funded HAMAS Palestinians
How does it feel to get
What you do to Iranian civilians?
You could have avoided all this
If you wanted to
But empathy
Was never your view
Boom-boom-boom
Boom-boom, IRGC
This is what you get
For all your evil deeds
Boom-boom-boom boom
Boom-boom-boom boom
Boom-boom-boom, boom-boom, IRGC
This is what you get
For all your evil deeds
You could have avoided all this
If you wanted to
But empathy
Was never your view
Islam.
You are
the last born,
favored by God.
You call Him
Allah.
Some whisper,
that God
in reverse
becomes
Dog.
You are
not merely
a religion.
You are
a way
of life.
In the
seventh century,
you were born.
Christianity
and Judaism
are your
elder brothers.
Not
your enemies.
Christianity
has grown old.
You,
Islam,
are the youth.
May you
reach
the world,
not through
violence,
but through
peace.
Through love.
You are
no longer
a child.
More than
1.9 billion
people
follow you.
Great
is your
responsibility
upon
your shoulders.
When I walk
the streets
of Europe
and America,
many
young men
and women
knock
upon
your door.
Whether
Sunni
or Shia,
you were born
from
the same
womb.
Some
will hate
you.
Others
will love
you.
May your
moral values
be cherished.
May they
be honored.
Islam,
the world
now watches
you.
Lead
with wisdom.
Lead
with mercy.
For in
the mosque,
the faithful
proclaim,
"Allahu Akbar."
God
is the
Greatest.
It doesn’t matter what we believe
we need to learn what they believe
the liberal views we all know
don’t have a universal flow
equality is one such value
they do not believe in too
freedoms that we take for granted
grew because the seed was planted
gave us rights for our advantage
man made laws that we have managed
wars were fought to give us peace
in separation wars did cease
from Europe to the Middle East
the western world spread the seas
through the centuries of change
we forgot about those estranged
while their belief remained the same
until we let them in again
now they come here to dominate
the only way they operate
I stood in the valley looking to my left then to my right
on one side stood belief tall and strong
on the other stood disbelief saying it's not wrong
belief reached for me with steady hands
disbelief just smiled "don't be a fool"
one path was a narrow cave, I began to shake
the other was inviting and safe
which do I take
With Quran held to my chest, I looked again
the safe path glimmered in the sun
but then I noticed it was a lifeless place
my eyes wandered to the cave where prophets stood
the cave was dark but filled with dreams and ease
I grabbed a hijab, wrapped it around me ready to go
with unsteady feet I took a step
toward the cave, a place that looked uncertain from prying eyes
but the peace of Islam was waiting, welcoming, longing within
He had the book which God wrote
To read it, his life he did devote
Based on faith, not on proof.
Pursuing what he thought was ultimate truth.
Commands and divine rules for living,
Rules of fighting and forgiving,
What man should eat, what man should wear
When a believer should not cut his hair.
He had purpose, he found worth
Divining God's goals on earth
Much time hunched over a book
The forest for the trees, this man mistook.
he looked for hidden layers of meaning, acronyms
Below the straight text, messages within
Going beyond the author's intent
Years wasted, years spent.
I've known believers, but their feet were on the ground
They were free agents, not to a whirlpool bound.
The could drink from a well, but not drown inside
Their book was not a universe, just a guide.
Yes, its interesting what folks did 3000 years ago
But lets keep track since of history's flow
Let's take the best of science and thought
Believe but perceive, don't get caught.
In Shi’ite Muslim quarters
No matter that tens of thousands of lives he aborted
The mourning for the Ayatollah Khomeini
Region-wide, worldwide ~ knows no borders
In Shi’ite eyes the Ayotollah was an inspiration
renowned for kindness region-wide
Patient leader of a fledgling superpower nation
Self-restraining without complaining
The holy day has come lifting our eyes
Recite Duas, now hearts are taming
Sinning has gone, waving our goodbyes
Welcome back the month of Ramadhan
Where days as we wholeheartedly fast
Rise before thread of dawn and Adhan
Abandon our sins from our forgone past
Facing one direction with devotion
How can one lack emotional reeling?
Peace lingers negating commotion!
Ruku, steadily bowing and feeling
Sujood, close to the divine Creator
Iftaar, we shall break our fast later
They tried to name me from a borrowed book,
To smooth my edges with a foreign sound.
But my name is a seed that my grandmother took
From the red earth, and planted in the ground.
It grew with the rhythm of the summer rain,
A melody only the old roads know.
It holds the quiet strength of the mountain chain,
And the story only the river’s flow can show.
They speak of futures written in distant stars,
Of paths that lead away from this red loam.
But my soul is rooted where the scarred earth bears
The fingerprints of all who call it home.
So when I speak, hear the dust of ancestors,
Feel the fire of a timeless, patient sun.
My name is not just sound—it is a compass
That finds its north only where I am from.
I carry the calabash, I carry the song,
A bridge between the future and the long, long gone.
I don't know what to do
From hands of love
Let me go on bloody
From hands of love
Let me give my wealth
Let me attain God's consent
Let me be naked
From hands of love
Word of Jonah
Became ash his core
Eyes are tearful
From hands of love
My place is montanes
My tears pour always
Steady blood cries
From hands of love
Written by Yunus Emre (Dervish Jonah)
Translation Onur Ünlü
The one who says I am dervish, I want to look at
His sound as I was running, I want to reach at
Heaven's bridge is thinner than hair, sharper than blade
Going there above it, houses I want to make
Under it there is hell, inside of it there is pure fire
Arriving there at that shadow, for a while I want to rest
As I said shadow do not blame me dear imam
May you be pleasant, for a while I want to toast
I burn as much as my sins then clean at the water of mercy
Wearing on two wings, for a while I want to soar
After that seeing houri, heaven I want to arrive
Houri and Gilman, one by one whom i want to give a hug
Dervish Jonah do not tell these words twisted
One called Mullah Kasim comes to you and questions
Written By Yunus Emre (Dervish Jonah)
Translation Onur Ünlü
My heart is full of blood from your ardor I am dyed dear prophet
I don't know how, but I resisted to this fire dear prophet
At the first creation I was an unstoppable cry dear prophet
Please me with your face because I am burned dear prophet
Heaven sent cure you are, a healing to flaming heart you are
A magnificent generous you are, if you wish the guide, you are
Muhammad Mustafa you are, love of the Most Great you are
Please me with your face because I am burned dear prophet
Roses don't bloom; rivers don't pour if your almighty light wouldn't be
Universe fades away, breath doesn't remain if destiny wouldn't obey to you
Parting cries, union cries if beginning wouldn't have satisfied you
Please me with your face because I am burned dear prophet
Written By Yaman Dede
Translation Onur Ünlü
Ones who are in love with Lord
Their joy is word of testament
Ones who burn with love blaze
Their joy is word of testament
My sound doesn't stop my tongue reflects
Asks always for way that is straight
Who say yes to real private
Their joy is word of testament
This world and other's curtain
They throw behind all of them
They leave secular enjoyment
Their joy is word of testament
One who obeys to Misri
His decayed jobs go away
His interior bird of life
Its joy is word of testament
Written By Niyazi Misri
Translation Onur Ünlü
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Definition | What is Islamic in Poetry?
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