Share Your Favourite Poems

[Golden Girl]

here is 1 i really like, dont know the author,

 

******************

MY BELOVED

******************

 

There was a time in my youth,

When Islam was only a custom.

They said "say La IIaha IIIa Allah,..

And pray, you'll go to Heaven."

****************************************************

 

Ah, how simple, no struggle in this,

Just a word, and simple act.

Thereafter I'm absorbed in this world again,

With my 'assured' place in Paradise intact.

*****************************************************

 

But this was not to be my fate

For ALLAH chose to guide my heart.

I learnt of a man who struggled

so hard

When his mission was from the start.

 

 

The story of someone who had morals,

Spoke gently, kindness he knew.

Never fearing to say what's right,

His conviction in ISLAM was true.

******************************************************

 

The touch of his hand was as soft as silk

To comfort a crying child.

To mend his clothes, or do the chores,

Never complaining, he always smiled.

******************************************************

 

A living he made with his bare hands,

The same that held his mighty sword.

Valour shone from the edge of his blade,

******************************************************

 

His smell was always of musk,

And cleanliness he kept at his best.

Stark contrast with the heroes of today,

Who stink of beer and sweat.

******************************************************

 

He held the hands of his companions.

Unashamed to play with many children.

So modest, so humble, a perfect example,

That strangers could not recognise him.

******************************************************

 

His eyes slept little for nights were precious,

His prayers he treasured much greater.

To pray Tahajjud in the depths of night,

Seeking forgiveness, and nearness to his Creator.

******************************************************

 

He broke his tooth for me at Uhud,

And bled for me at Ta'if.

He cried for me, tears of concern,

Just so I could have this belief.

******************************************************

 

His enemies admired his teachings,

Uniting every religion, every clan.

Till ISLAM came to every corner of the world,

O, but indeed he was only a man.

******************************************************

 

To own a house, or build his wealth

Was not his main priority.

To establish ISLAM was more essential,

To bring us under a Higher Authority.

******************************************************

 

Don't you want him to plea for your case,

When before ALLAH-The Judge-you stand?

Don't you wish to be around his fountain,

A burning desire to drink from his hand?

******************************************************

 

So I love him more than all creation,

My Leader, my Humble Prophet.

Muhammad (SAWS) was a mercy to all mankind,

And to me, he is ************

MY BELOVED !

************

 

7abiibi wa nabiyi mU7amed SCW!

[- Femme -]

^^^^Thank you. That was a beautiful poem.

 

Allah Knows Best

 

ALLAH knows what is best for us

So why should we complain

We always want the sunshine

But He knows there must be rain.

 

We always want laughter

and the merriment of cheer

but our heart will lose

their tenderness

If we never shed a tear.

 

ALLAH tests us often

with suffering and sorrow

He tests us not to punish us

but to help us meet tomorrow.

 

For growing trees are strenghtened

if they can withstand the storm

and the sharpness of the chisel

gave the marble its grace and form.

 

ALLAH tests us often

and for every pain

He gives us

provided we are patient

Is followed by rich gain

So whenever we feel that

everything is going wrong

It is just ALLAH'S way to make our spirit strong.

 

Author Unknown

[AYOUB]

The bush-strangled once magnificent courts and mansions on the Pate Island in the Lamu archipelago inspired the sombre Al-Inkishafi (Catechism of a Soul) of Sayyid Abdulla bin Ali bin Nasir. The poem was written between 1810 and 1820; the translation from which these extracts have been taken from is by James de Vere Allen.

 

 

 

How many wealthy men have we not see

Who in their splendour shone like the sun itself,

Strong in their hoards of ivory,

Powerful in their stocks of silver and gold?

To them the whole world bowed down in homage,

For them Road of Life was broad and straight.

They went in their way in arrogance, unafraid,

Heads high in the air, their eyes screwed up in scorn.

They swung their arms and tossed their haughty heads,

Retainers went behind them and before.

Wherever they went they took their seat of honour

And many bodyguards surrounded them.

 

Their lighted mansions glowed with lamps of brass

And crystal, till night seem like day;

And in their hall lay Beauty everywhere

And Veneration stalked them all their days.

Their homes were set with Chinese porcelain

And every cup and goblet was engraved

While, placed amidst the glittering ornaments,

Great crystal pitchers gleamed luminous.

The rails from which they hung the rich brocade

Were made - I swear by God, Source of Wealth -

Of teak and ebony, row upon row of them,

Rank upon rank with fabrics hung displayed.

 

The men's halls hummed with chatter, while within

The women's quarter laughter echoed loud.

The noise of talk and merriment of slaves

Rang out, and cheerful shout of workmen rose.

And when they went to rest, they had massage

And fans of gay-robed women for their ease

And music makers, playing and singing the songs

Ceaselessly till they slept. And when they slept

It was on exquisite beds of finest timber

Carefully chosen, with soft mattresses

With pillows of green cloth at head and foot.

Embroidered with silver thread and fine-spun gold.

Fabric was draped on canopies above

To shelter them. Their limbs were sprinkled over

With rosewater, and their bodies anointed

With attar and sandalwood and incense-smoke.

 

And yet, for all their wealth and proud grandeur

They took, with Death's great Caravan, their leave

And journeyed to the mansions of the grave

And crumbled like blowing sand, and came to dust.

So sleep they now, in a city of finger's span.

No curtains there, no cushions nor silk couch.

Their bodies are broken, mutilated all

And crushed by merciless constrains of the tombs.

Their cheek bones have caved in and decomposed,

And pus and blood ooze through their parted lips;

Maggots infest their nostrils and their throats

They have become food for insect and for worms,

Termites and ants devour and bore them though.

Their bodies are eroded. Venom snakes

And scorpions coil in their cavities.

 

 

Their lighted mansions echo emptily;

High in the painted rafters flutter bats.

There are no murmurings, no happy shouts,

And on curved bedsteads spiders spin their webs.

Where once in wall-niches the porcelain stood

Are now the ragged nests of wild birds.

Owl hoot in the solitude of ruined halls

And quail and gamebirds scuttle and cry below.

On painted curtain-rails now vultures perch,

And doves pout and coo between themselves

Or start, and flap their wings , and whirr away.

Swallows build their nests, and wood-pigeons.

 

Cockroaches rustle in the empty courts.

Where once men gathered, now the crickets shrill.

The chatter in the ante-rooms has ceased

And there remains only dirt and foul decay.

The courtyards now are choked weeds and thorns,

Bushes are canopied over with wild vines.

Men fear today to pass these yawning doors.

For inside Silence and Darkness reign supreme.

If you believe me not, and say I lie,

Then go yourself and peer about those halls.

Callout. Your echo will come back, naught else,

For human voices can be heard no more.

 

 

 

My soul, all mortal men are thus, for all

The Pen of God has signed equal Writ;

And it is certain you will be as they

Unless you have and hold your true faith.

O soul, beware, be not firebrand,

Abandon false pride, hold to truth and right.

Your friends are saved - make sure to save yourself

Or else fires of hell will eat you up.

 

 

Know you, the day will come when over all

The World there will be change: the Seven Heavens

Will be moved from their place. The Sun and Moon

Will tumble from from the sky. And for us men

There will be fire and heat, both without cease.

Where will you turn on that last day, when flames

Rage within your spleen, and from your scalp

The skin is singed - where will you flee for help?

Tell me your refuge, for I would share it too.

 

Never forget that Day, when multitudes

Will assemble for every deed to be revealed;

That Day when the oppressed will kneel before

Their God and cry, "Decide between him and me!

Judge us, O Lord God! See how I was wronged

By this man - judge us in Thy rectitude!"

And God, by Who all things shall be disposed,

Shall judge, repaying each his wrong as due.

Nor can the injured ever be paid back

With golden nuggets, nor with coin of gold.

Money, even were it offered as recompense

Is not accepted. Compensation must

Be rendered in good deeds performed in life.

And he whose record shows neither good deeds

Nor wrongs incurred from others - he, like a horse,

Is bridled, with bit pressed to his mouth,

And forced to bear the sins of those he wronged -

Ordered to carry their burden and begone.

 

Al-Inkishafi: Catechism of a Soul Sayyid Abdulla bin Ali bin Nasir

 

 

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

I'm sure i've contributed couple of my other favourites in another similar thread but, I thought the above poem is more suitable for this holy month. Ramadan Kariim to you all.

[Tesnim]

I revolve in revolutionary circles

That discuss the planet's revolutions

We're aware of complex problems

For which we pose complex solutions

We perform wudu ablutions

Bow our heads in unison

But sometimes

I still question

Our devotion

 

Yours Truly tesnimhassan@hotmail.com

[Sincere]

This is a poem by Qamaan Bulxan translated by renowned linguist Andrzejewski. Qamaan Bulxan was a pastoralist born in the 1850’s.He played an important role in local politics and was a skilled orator.

 

In praise of Barni Sheekh

 

Among all the women to be seen at Qorraxey

Those who dwell in the heart of the town

And those who dwell in the countryside around

The splendid wives and mothers,

The no-longer wives, divorced long since

The slips of girls with combed-up topknots

The maidens sedate and sturdy

Take them one and all together,

And it is Barni Sheekh who excels in beauty!

 

Fair of skin, her gums the color of the deep dark sea,

She has the aspect of the crescent moon,

With her glistening curls and her date brown hue

She is a lustrous as a pearl,

So tall is her stature, so upright her bearing,

That you think you see a camelopard

If you glimpse her from afar;

There is strength in the builds of her body

And she walks along at an easy pace,

Her left arm swinging in a graceful rhythm

That imparts beauty to her every step

 

When you behold her dignified deportment,

When you feel the yearning that her character inspires

And discover the elegant beauty that God implanted in her

Then your eyes will never cease their gazing.

The world is vast indeed

But however wide you may have roamed,

No matter what far land you may have been,

In what country have you ever had news?

Of a girl like Barni Sheekh

[Complex Mind]

Assalamu Alaikum,

 

I just have to say that I love that poem "In Praise of Barni Sheekh". Believe it or not, she's still alive and kicking. You may not be able to describe her with those exact words but that's what old age does to you. She's a friend of my mom.... Such a small world...

[raula]

Discreet-thx much for that poem..its one of my fav..in that book(which I got as a gift back in 99)-its truely classic in literature and a good depection of the somali women's beauty. Thx again.

[somali 4 ever]

i fell like I know that poem but I don’t wear from,

[sheherazade]

Raula, what's the book called?

[raula]

^^^Shehe-here is a bibiliographical citation.

 

Andrzejewski, B. W., with Andrzejewski, S., 1993 Somali Poetry. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

*the poems are a collection from somali renoknowed poets that have been translated to ENGLISH.

 

Ma'salaama

[- Femme -]

AFTER A WHILE

 

After a while you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

 

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security,

 

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises

 

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open,

 

With the grace of a woman,

Not the grief of a child

 

And you learn to build all your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

 

After a while you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much

 

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers

 

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth,

and you learn and learn...

With every good bye you learn

 

Written By : Unknown

[Sincere]

YVW Raula, I too enjoyed that book, and that ode was beautiful.

 

Shehe/Raula, if you’re interested in translated Somali poetry, here’s another great book. It includes classical poetry, traditional and modern songs, and religious poetry in Arabic. These are in Somali and English (except the Arabic ones). The introduction and footnotes are very informative. It’s probably out of print, but I’m sure you’ll find it collecting dust in some obscure corner of a library.

 

Andrzejewski, B. W., & Lewis, I. M., 1964 Somali Poetry: An Introduction. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Evaluation of Somali poetic forms, with many examples, by a preeminent linguist and anthropologist.

[Pucca]

Be Gentle....

 

Be gentle with one another....

The cry comes out of the

Hurting heart of humanity,

It comes from the lives of those battered

With thoughtless words and brutal deeds;

It comes from the lips of

those who speak them,

Be gentle with one another....

 

Who of us can look inside

Another and know what is there,

Of hope and hurt, or promise and pain?

Who can know from what

Far places each has come,

Or to what far places each may hope to go?

 

Our lives are like fragile eggs....

They are brittle....

They crack and the substance escapes....

Handle with care!

 

Handle with exceeding, tender care for

There are human beings there, within

Human beings vulnerable as we are vulnerable;

Who feel as we feel,

Who hurt as we hurt.

 

Life is to transient to be cruel with one another,

It is too short for thoughtlessness,

Too brief for hurting.

Life is long enough for caring,

It is lasting enough for sharing,

Precious enough for love.

Be gentle with one another.

 

-Rev. Richard S. Gilbert

[IL CAPO]

I wouldn't necessarily consider this to be my all time favourite poem but I like the message and the simple truth it carries and wouldn't you know the author happens to be a Pastor.

 

 

By:Dr Bob Moorehead.

 

We have taller buildings,but shorter tempers

Wider free ways, but narrow viewpoints

We spend more, but have less

We buy more but enjoy less

We have bigger houses and smaller families

More conveniences, but less time

We have more degrees, but less sense

More knowledge, but less judgement

More experts, but more problems

We have multiplied our possessions

but reduced our values

We talk too much,

love too seldom and lie too often

We have learned how to make a living,but not life.

We have added years to life, not life to years.

We have been all the way to the moon and back

But we have trouble crossing the street

To meet our new neighbours.

 

 

We have conquered outer space but not inner space

We have done larger things, but not better things

We have cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul

We have split the atom, but not the prejudices

We write more, but learn less

We have learned to rush, but not to wait

We have higher incomes, but lower morals

More acquaintances, but fewer friends

More effort but less success

We built more computers to hold more information

To produce more copies than ever

but have less communication

Drive smaller cars that have bigger problems;

Build larger factories that produce less.

We have become long on quantity,

but short on quality.

 

 

These are the times of fast food

and slow digestion

Tall people and short characters

Steep in profits and shallow relationships

More kinds of food and less nutrition

These are the days of two incomes

but more divorces

Of fancier houses and broken homes

These are the days of quick trips

Disposable diapers tow-away morality

and one-night stands

Over weight bodies and pills that do everything

From cheer, to prevent, quite or kill

It is a time when there is

much in the show window

and nothing in the stockroom

Indeed, it is all true.

Peace.

[Sophist]

Among many poems; this is rather fitting in the mood which I am in. Lord Byron comes to my rescue.

 

 

SHE walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that 's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light 5

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face; 10

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

 

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is SO innocent!