Now Blue October

August 5, 2011

I love this poem.. especially the line I bolded…
***

Now blue October, smoky in the sun,
Must end the long, sweet summer of the heart.
The last brief visit of the birds is done,
They sing the autumn songs before they part.
Listen, how lovely—there’s the thrush we heard
When June was small with roses, and the bending
Blossom of branches covered nest and bird,
Singing the summer in, summer unending—
Give me your hand once more before the night;
See how the meadows darken with the frost,
How fades the green that was the summer’s light.
Beauty is only altered, never lost,
And love, before the cold November rain,
Will make its summer in the heart again.

~Robert nathan


Forgiveness

April 26, 2011

You see when we are mistaken,
It’s not that we are faking,
It’s just that we are mistaken,
So please don’t be taking,

Impression the first,
Because sometimes it hurts,
When you know what’s inside,
So much goodness to hide.

And you are not trying to cover,
Or pretend you’re another.
It’s just hard to uphold,
that picture-perfect mold.

Because at times we forget,
Or out of weakness neglect.
We want to be our best,
But we all have our stress.

And yet we all mean well,
even if you can’t tell.
So let forgiveness spread between us all.
And with our unity we stand tall.


Just Beneath

April 1, 2011

I saw a..
Tear.
Tears, tears, tears-
water.
Drops, drops, drops-
river.

Rivers.

Rivers running from beneath,
only in this world,
and we delight in them,
as they run from
beneath.

But in paradise,
they run beneath.
Just beneath.
Allah holds the source.
And the rivers flow.

May the Angels
welcome you with peace.
You and everyone you love:
the company you please.
To eternally reside,
where rivers run beneath.
.


Perhaps the Crown

March 21, 2011

This once crowned king has lost his kingdom.
He’s lost his position, he’s lost his freedom.

He can still remember the castle’s endless luxury now,
He wonders if he will survive as a peasant.. and how?

What’s a king without his precious shining crown?
Without his robe and without his gown?

He must find what they call inner wealth?!
Why, that’s harder to earn than gold itself!

You see, It’s hard: when a king is not king.
Being royal.. was always his thing.

Though, looking back, was he ever even grateful?
Was this a lesson for him- planned and fateful?

Maybe he had to learn who bestowed him that crown,
and put for him love in the hearts of the people of town.

Who first gave him a reason to smile and to forgive..
Who guided him to the best life he could live..

Was it his merit, when he had no worries, no doubts?
When he couldn’t comprehend what weakness was about?

Was it his credit, when he had no anxiety or fear?
When people he cherished were available and near?

Perhaps the king is never meant to be king again,
In that case he aims to be the most wise of  men.

Or perhaps the king is meant to rule another land,
Either way- he’s learned that his fate lies in Allah’s Hands.

And perhaps, perhaps, he is no king at all.
But maybe a Queen, recalling her fall.

And perhaps, perhaps its not a Queen, castle or crown!
But a woman, her strength, and how life turns around.

***

( قل اللهم مالك الملك تؤتي الملك من تشاء وتنزع الملك ممن تشاء وتعز من تشاء وتذل من تشاء بيدك الخير إنك على كل شيء قدير ( 26 ) تولج الليل في النهار وتولج النهار في الليل وتخرج الحي من الميت وتخرج الميت من الحي وترزق من تشاء بغير حساب ( 27 ) )


Chuckles from Across

March 18, 2011

This is a story of a hideous man so despicable
Who has all the world’s riches and seems all-invincible.
His wealth he uses solely to show-off with and flaunt
Dares you to want it, allows his possessions to taunt.

He lures most citizens and they blindly follow.
They never realize his core is plain dark and hollow.
Some walk, some march, and some run after him.
He seems to offer every last desire and whim.

They chase after him with no intention to stop.
Maybe some jewels into their hands he will drop.
So they have their hands open waiting for the fall.
Of some of his riches, and hope for it all.

Even the rich, prestigious and well-off of the town.
Suddenly become beggars following him around.
Those who were independent at once become needy.
Those who once donated become evil and greedy.

The man’s evil laugh crackles as they chase.
He knows that none of them will win the race.
They become deaf to his laughter,
his stretching shadow they keep after.

Some warn from the sidelines, for they’ve understood.
He’s here only to mock, he’s not any good.
But the crowds gain momentum, and his laugh grows louder.
They are all so weak, and he only gets prouder.

Then at the outskirts of town, they reach a sharp ridge.
His carriage floats across, without need for a bridge.
Some come to their senses and halt in their tracks.
Others, arms outstretched, run and fall down into black.

The likes of this Dunya is the story of this man.
Still laughing and chuckling, still ridiculing his fans.
Never follow his tracks or allow your soul to be sold.
His wealth glitters much but it’s a heap of fool’s gold.


Goosebumps for Heroes

February 13, 2011

Goosebumps rise,
as I see the crowds’ uproar tonight.
These are the crowds
that will finally set things right.

Goosebumps rise,
as Egypt stands tall and graceful after Tunisia.
History, do record!
Let the oppressors desperately wish for amnesia!

I hope Goosebumps for heroes,
will rise on our children’s arms and hands.
When they hear of our victories,
And live content in their lands.

Our spring has sprung,
our fall has fell.
Winter’s frost has melted.
Soon in summer we dwell.

We will once again be heroes:
no shame, no weakness, no remorse.
Our peace will not be silence,
And our wise silence will not be forced.

Viva la revolution!
This uprising must not fail!
I don’t want to soothe my children,
with history’s lonely tales.

Nay, let our lullabies be:
The past holds much strength and glory.
But know this o child:
Our present has a very similar story.

No longer:
We were, we were, we were.
No longer:
We lost. We suffered. We endured.

Yes, for too long there was oppression.
But this is how we spoke up.
This is how our Ummah rose,
This is when we all woke up.

This is how we retrieved
our long-deserved but forgotten rights.
This is how we earned respect,
Peacefully, but with all our might.

This is how we drove out the oppressors,
Displayed what strength was truly about.
Freedom’s Match first lit,
then Revolution’s Flames burst out.

This is how you may now sit safe,
under the shade of Justice’s Tree.
Now tend carefully to our pride,
and always o child…. always be free.

Written: January 30, 2011

Egyptian Freedom:  February 11, 2011


Havoc Strikes!

December 13, 2010

ATTENTION all!! You must take heed!
You ought to be extra careful indeed!
Read the rest of this entry »