About Novid Shaid

I am a Muslim writer and English teacher. I have written poetry, short stories, a play, and I am currently working on a novella. My subject matter and themes are related to Islam, Sufism, politics and also my job as a secondary school teacher. My work is copyrighted and any works published here may not used or copied without my prior consent. You can contact me via the "Contact Me" page, if you wish to use any these writings. I am keen to gain the notice of publishers and if any are interested in my writings, please contact me via the "Contact Me" page. Was salaam, Peace

Ramadan Song

Salatullah!

Salaamullah!

Alayka Ya Rasol Allah

Hannanullah

Mannanullah

Ya Habeebe

Shay’an lillah (chorus)

The crescent moon

Portents Of boon

The fiends are gaoled

And blessings prevail

We sense a guest

Of pure finesse

Gracing our doors

Delusions’ cure

(Chorus)

O Ramadan!

Minder from harm

Reveal your charms

Despite our sins

We pray for peace

The wars’ surcease

O Gaza’s lights!

God shield your nights!

(Chorus)

The first ten days

Mercy our stay

The second ten

Pardon, amen

The last ten nights

Safety’s in sight!

O night of fate

Grant us your grace!

(Chorus)

RAMADAN KAREEM, 1446, 2025

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gbk98lwfM9yMQzcOJtsK6xaKYoxUTNQs/view?usp=drive_link

(Melody and chorus taken from The Jerrahi Halvetis of Karragamruk, Istanbul)

A Poem For The 25th

Jesus, peace be upon him,

And Mary, the cloistress

the spirit of Truth

and the Mother of gnosis,

Glad tiding to those

And to their closest

Who remember these two

And Muhammad and Moses

Abraham and Jonah

Daylight for the hopeless

Peace be upon them

By the number of roses!

And the generous host

And magnanimous hostess

Say a warm, special prayer

For the weak and the homeless

The wandering Gazan

Who roams with the formless

In the West Bank and Gaza

Balm for our neuroses

Amen

On New Syria

Dear Muslims, compliments if you’ve succeeded

In exorcising demons on your thrones

Glad tidings and best wishes to your country

May your people flourish and your rivers flow

But remember when it’s your turn to accede

Another demon whispers and can grow

You know the fallen ways of this flawed world

From blameless babies, tyrants can unfurl

May you be those who rule with truth and love

So, you can feel the blessings from above

May you be those protected from all sides

From demons external, and ones inside

Ameen

On Elections

The dunya spoke to me once in a dream:

“If you choose me, I’ll make your life serene

The benefits I’ll bring you won’t believe!

Don’t listen to those others who deceive!

I’ll end the wars and make your troubles go

Borders will be safe; money will flow,

I promise you more money in your pockets

The chance to build a world without the rockets

All I need is that you play your part

And choose me in the ballot of your heart.”

And so I crossed the dunya on the slip

Four years elapsed, things did not change one bit

And then the dunya called me once again

Dressed up in gold and handing me a pen

“If you choose me, you won’t regret this night

I will be better than before, all right!?”

The salesmen of the dunya come and go

Buy from them sceptically, heed not the show…

Parody For Jekyll, Hyde and Palestine

Extract from Pearce Morgan’s letter, read by the UN lawyer, Antonio Uttereson

“My dear sir, I have suffered an interminable horror from which I fear no release will ever exist on the horizon. So, I will just leave you with this. In a desperate letter from my dear friend, Dr America, he advised me to host an individual at the dead of night with whom I must conduct an interview for the multitude.

And so it transpired, at that dreadful hour of nocturnal intrigue, I heard a crude knock on the door to which I assented entry. And there emerged an older individual, stinking of phosphorous and burning flesh, dressed in the combat attire of the IDF, large ears, dark smouldering eyes like molten rock, a wide face and imperious bearing. But there was something else about this man, something so rank, and so misbegotten that as I watched him, I saw thousands of burning souls in his wake, countless strikes from the air, an orphaned, pulverised city, and ethnically cleansed, searing earth. I felt as though vomit would envelope me and an unearthly sickness began to take root.

However, desperate to accomplish this business, I initiated my intercourse with this damned fellow, on my live channel, a steady audience of ten thousand tuning in, when all of a sudden, his cheeks began contorting, his eyes widened like a lizard’s, melting into shades of red, white, blue, and stars seemed to dazzle momentarily. Then he bowed his head, I was already consumed in a state of infernal horror, when he looked up, and there, as if a cadaver brought back to the world of living, there stood my erstwhile colleague, Dr America!

And so he told me what he told me, and I heard what I heard, and now a deadly terror sits on my screen, and I wince every time I look at Rupert. Sleep has left me, and my viewing numbers are dwindling.

You may think that I talk of nonsensical impossibilities, but let me tell you this as gravely as I can Mr Uttereson, that the man who entered my room was none other than Mr Netanyahu, a wanted criminal, under an arrest warrant for crimes against humanity on the command of the ICJ. But the one who left my room, to my unending horror, was a man I once considered the man of the free, the epitome of justice, freedom and equality, Dr America…

PS: Mr Uttereson- just a final inquiry- Do you support HAMAS?

The King, the Dervishes, and the Patio Weeds

The King, Al Wahid, peerless and profound

Whose wisdom works silently and aloud

He sent two dervishes upon a mission

A testing quest, an unalterable imposition

“My close and near bondsmen, my dervishes!

You witness My presence and services

But now I’m sending you upon the earth

Where you will rise and flourish from a birth

And there you have a special job to do

To tend to my wild garden through and through

The patio is your responsibility

Each side for each of you, clear it of weeds

Those weeds grow through the cracks relentlessly

They find a way and grow back endlessly

Their names are creeping thistle ma’siah

Another one’s called hub ad dunya

Here is a gardening tool to pull them out

It’s called at tawba, working strong and stout

The clearer and flawless the paths you make

I will be there to visit for your sake!”

So off they went the dervishes abroad

Far, down to earth as stated by their Lord

The first dervish he struggled to control

The weeds, he pulled them out, as he’d been told

The other one, he found a clever trick

Told to him by a snake, whispering and thick

“Use this bold spray, it’s called riya so fine,

It will destroy the weeds and look sublime

Not only your dear King but all around

Will love to see your patio and grounds!”

And so it came to pass, the patios

The first dervish, he struggled and was slow

His patio looked incomplete, unkempt

Some weeds pulled out, some sticking out and bent

The other’s patio, so clear and fine

Shining from riya spray it looked divine

But on the day the King came for a visit

The second dervish, ailing was his spirit!

Because the King his patio He spurned

And to the dirty patio He turned

“O why, dear king, my patio forsake

Which is so free of weeds for Your Pure Sake?!”

The King He viewed the dervish with a look

The riya spray shivered and the ground it shook…

“I spend My time on this poor patio

Because with at tawba it shines and glows

This one he struggles, but he keeps pulling

The weeds grow back but he does not give in

They keep returning, tearful is his heart,

I love the fact that he does not depart!

But you just do it all for pride and show

So take heed from your brother, then you will know!

Don’t be hoodwinked, the weeds are of the earth

And you have not been sent there just for mirth

Keep dealing with those weeds that grow within

You need Me close; alone you cannot win…”

When Layla Visited…

Layla graced our town with a procession

And every heart desired to see her face

So, I adorned myself with the finest outfit

Perfumed my beard with rose, the purest white

My voice, I practised eloquent encomia

My eyes, I checked my gazes on the screen

And then approaching calmly her palanquin

I called out to her longingly on a whim

Suddenly, the curtains drew aside

And there sat veiled the irresistible bride

She said: “Dear sir, what’s all this fakery?

That’s layered on your pretty words for me?

This hall of mirrors, these pixels in your heart

Cast them aside, stop gawking at the parts

Lessen the talk talk, tighten your broad band

Transcend the tick tock, do you understand?

Obsess not on the why, the fie, what’s apt

Instead arouse your heart, empty your lap

When your subconscious’s silent and serene

Then I will be ready to be your queen…”

MAWLID MUBARAK!

Don’t Be Afraid Dear England…

Don’t be afraid, dear England,
For Muslims are not your fell foes
Allah reminds us we’re travellers
The news in our hearts, Allah knows
Don’t be afraid, dear England,
Us Muslims, we don’t want your land
The east and the west are from Allah
All nations are built upon sand
Don’t be alarmed, dear Britons,
Us Muslims can never replace you,
We’re sons and daughters of Adam
So prejudice shouldn’t abase you
But do be aware, our dear English,
That we say that God is just One
Muhammad is His final prophet
We all will be judged near the sun
But even if you don’t believe us
God is your judge, not our selves
You are then free to develop,
To wonder, imagine, and delve
There is no compulsion in believing
We all will return to the One
So we try to follow our Prophets
Before all this life is undone
Dear English and all you dear Gaelics,
Feel free to imagine your selves
But know that while our way is different
We pray for you heaven, not hell
So don’t be afraid of us Muslims
Even the extremists and quacks
But don’t be so fixed on your nations,
One day God will take it all back ….

(A response to the riots of August, 2024)