Religion Islamic Poems

Dad what is religion, it so confuses me
I know about church is that all it can be?
I sing the songs and listen to stuff
But watching...

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Dad where is your soul?
Is it important, what's its role?
I keep reading of heart and soul
What part of me does it control?

Sweetheart it's hard to...

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POEM: Welcome to Palestine. The land of the prophets and the martyrs. 


Let’s show show some respect, and bow down in humility…
Gaza may be small,...

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The world has become jaded by the news we observe
It’s not until we notice something morally monstrous
Neither peacemakers nor warmongers have the nerve
It’s the emotions...

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Sarah is my name


Hi, I'm Sarah and this is the story of how my name came to be,
But also, how the meaning of my name...

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These weathered hands -
rusted relics
embellished in the
patina of time’s
restless passage

These sinister
metallic arms march
forward, akin to
Third Reich battalions
stomping on
Parisian fabric
with leather boots
hand stitched
in the name of
totalitarian...

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Tinctures of Tuscan red temptation
trickle through all
of the tempestuous rivulets
in Damascus

The scent of
the nonpareil nectar
torments both the
nearby boors and patricians

They quaff the wine and
leave the...

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POEM: 
My yoke shall remain light
like wings of a falcon in flight
but if you remain anchored,
do not sound the dread alarm when
my burden's fangs sink...

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In Mecca circle
Throng heads vow in unison
In silence uphold....

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A ceremony of fearful falcons 
Scattered like a school of frightened fish 
Their crooked wings scissored the soaring Syrian sun into slivers, 
Blissfully beating down...

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Upon departure of the founding fathers and their ardor 
Their sons, harboring a love for the carnal self, 
Hastily waste the blood of slain martyrs...

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With the weight of wondrous wealth and worship
neatly nestled in her corporal cavity
unexpectedly, this eager expecting dame
lifting her humble hand in search of clarity
seeps through...

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Lighting up the void
Your soft hands adorn us all
Within the abyss...

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Spilling myself with an ink-soaked feather
pages cocooned by mahogany leather,
eroded and weathered

“Damn my eyes”
“My deeds unjustified”

Perusing prose to anesthetize my pain
my windowpane dripping with drops...

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Transcending the narrow confines of my mortal epistemology 

Laying beyond the approach of conception or imagination

You mold me, caress me, and nurture me 

So I...

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