Long Hussain Poems

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


Premium Member Eternal Dance

These bronze companions 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha flows from the soul 
Through seasoned fingers 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Six decades of dance in palms

Father's rhythms —
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha lives within 
Each strike and echo 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Alla Rakha guides the movement of hands

Punjab flows through — 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha spinning fast 
Like Sufi dancers 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Ancient heartbeats in new songs

Time bends beneath touch — 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha lightning quick 
Then slow as prayer 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Rivers flowing from your hands

World shrinks to circles — 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha speaks in tongues 
Of stretched leather skin 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Universe in fingertips

Jazz meets gharana — 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha bridges worlds 
Through storm of palms here 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
East and West dance as one soul

Silence between beats— 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha tells stories 
Of thousand nights past 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Every strike, a life's journey

Though hands may rest now— 
Dha-dhin-dhin-dha echoes still 
Through time's chambers vast 
Tete-kata-gadi-gana 
Eternal rhythms never cease

When the tabla falls silent, 
These sacred rhythms live on— 
In Earth's pulse, 
In Heart's Dance, 
In Soul's eternal song

For rhythm never dies, 
It simply transforms— 
From fingers to air, 
From air to spirit, 
From spirit to the cosmic dance
Where every heartbeat 
Carries the echo 
Of these eternal tabla rhythms, 
Forever more!


Premium Member Jamal Hussain and friends

January twenty first, 2024 the above thugs burst.'
Into a shop in Wallsal town, two with axes smashing
Windows to the ground' then six of them stormed into this
Store, a multicultural vist.? I will add no more.' Their
Shotguns were fired nice and loud, to announce no doubt dilwali and they
Were'nt just an ordinary crowd.' then a stupid employee
Got in the way, of a shotgun blast..It hit his arm so they
Say?  Another was injured by trauma to the neck..' yet
Really..I ask what did they expect.? From an upwardly
Mobile gang about town, what the heck'  who eschewing permits just
Park and do.' Whatever is needed with unlicensed guns (too true!)
Yet they did get aprehended, that will put a hold on their
Fun..Jamal had escaped. Just after.' He left British shores' on the run
He never got extradited..That fact i can't ignore.! He was
Arrested when he got back to town, and for a space of
Nine years he has now been sent down, some of the others
Got five years others barely two..) and yet 'this is law?)
Heres what i'll tell you..' its five years in jail for each
Un-licensed gun..So if they had two? I make that ten years
Number one..' Next lets talk shells or bullets again it's
Five years per item.' Are you getting this plain.? Then theres
The robbery?? And illiegal parking to boot.' I just cant see
Much correlatilon..My reactiion is oh shoot..!
Form: Rhyme

Urge For Something

Urge For Something.
There is an urge for
something within me

that has no language.

It arrives like unseen hands
closing softly around my throat —

not enough to kill,
just enough to remind me
that something within me
is still unresting.

My heart beats strangely now,
like a man knocking
upon a forgotten door
somewhere inside his own chest.

And my thoughts wander endlessly,
like lost pilgrims
searching for a sanctuary
they have never seen before,

looking for a something
they cannot even name.

I walk normally.
I speak gently.
I laugh when required.

But beneath my ribs
something keeps clawing
towards existence.

Not pain.
Not fear.
Not grief entirely.

Just an unbearable urge for something
I have never touched
and somehow deeply miss.

So I remain suspended
between peace and ache,
between nearness and confusion,

carrying this sacred unrest
like moonlight trapped
inside a closed room —

this unbearable nearness
to something I cannot name.

Some nights,
the silence within me
grows so immense

it feels like something beneath my skin
is learning how to breathe again —

like a wounded star
burning quietly
behind winter clouds.

Like a forgotten creature
waiting patiently
for me to finally notice
that it is alive.

And perhaps the cruelest ache
is this:

to feel something vast
calling me beyond myself,

yet know only the pull,
never the voice.

There is an urge for something within me
that has no language.

It arrives like unseen hands
closing softly around my throat —

not enough to kill,
just enough to remind me
that something within me
is still unresting.

— Syed Muhammad Murtajiz Hussain

Hegemony

The Hegemony 

You are not supposed to say “American” anymore it is 
a racist like saying “Chinaman” A citizen of the USA doesn’t have 
to live in the US, but it helps if he lives in Israel
The USA, are master of Europe, let’s say the western world
their rule is democracy translated to we dictate, you obey.
With great fanfare, a servant of the outer region of the empire 
was summoned to appear before the chief.
The man from the region was hailed as a warrior in the senate
applauded him, and his face covered the front cover 
Of The Time Magazine, like Saddam Hussain before him.
It was America with its magnificent display of earnest fakery
promised him to deliver whatever he needed as long as 
his needs were America’s needs.
But the world knows from experience promises mean little
if there is a policy change, then the friend is a foe overnight
as the world’s newspapers sing from the same hymn sheet.
Privately the chief of the western world is worried the enemy
is not leaving the war is costing too much, he must tell
the hero from the beleaguered province to sue for peace.
When the diminutive man is back in Kyiv, he better do as told
or he will, like the man from Libya, end up dead.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member From an Order of Broccoli to Ringo Starkey

  	      I ordered an appetizer of broccoli
                 but was served Ehud Barak-Lee 

              Tried again for an appetizer of broccoli
                  this time was served Obama Barak-Lee

              For the third time, an appetizer of broccoli
                  instead, got ‘Sir’ Charles Barkley 
	
              Fed up... rather darkly, I requested some sparkly
                  the result, ta-da ~ two drumsticks from Ringo Starkey!



              _______________________________________________________________
              JIC (Just in Case) you're not enamored of either Israeli
              politics or NBA basketball stars: Ehud Barak was a former
              5-star general and prime minister of Israel, who tried to
              give away 97% of 'Palestine' to Yasir Arafat, who turned 
              it down... Sir' Charles Barkley was a superstar professional
              basketball player for over a decade, although he is better 
              known for outrageous opinions and creative profanities...  
              Also, 'JIC,' Ringo Starr's -- the Beatle's -- last name was and 
              is actually Starkey; and Barack Hussain Obama was America's 
              first Kenyan-Hawaiian-1/2 Muslim-1/2 Christian American 
              President. (Bill Clinton, of course, was America's first, and 
              phoniest, of America's black presidents, Joe Biden being the 
              second). gw
Form: Couplet


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