Category Archives: Poems

Prayers on the Prophet for the Night Journey

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Oh Allah send Your prayers and peace upon him

And upon his companions and kin

By the number of pearls of sweat on al buraq

Which cascaded as the sage ascended him

By the number of prayers the rider invoked

And the flutters of wings of his companions

By the number of sand stones at Al Aqsa

Which intoned his praise as he dismounted

By the number of Prophets that humbly stood

As the chosen one led with equilibrium

And the number of contours in the rock

And the streams of wind as the travellers took off

By the number of times the wise one was hailed

By each Prophet as the levels he scaled

And the number of shimmering branches on Al Muntaha

Ad infinitum they communed Lover and Beloved

From the day You made this life

To the end when we arise

Every day a thousand times!

 

 

 

The Little Girl Who Yearned To See The Prophet

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“I want to see the prophet!”
Proclaimed a little girl,
“I want to look upon his face,
The mercy of the worlds.”

“You’ve told me all the stories,”
She told her dear parents,
“But still I can not see his face
I’m feeling disenchanted!”

“Where did you get that word from?”
Replied the dad, impressed,
“I do not even use that word
Myself I must confess!”

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The Rise of Trump and Baghdadi

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A New Yorker called Donald Trump
With Latinos and Muslims, he had the hump!
For him all the Latinos were a bunch of druggies
And Muslims were a national security worry.

He’d flick his quiff and pick and sniff
While screaming firebrand speeches
The Muslims angered him so much
He’d go all pink like peaches!

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Dear…

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Dear Young Men of Baghdadi’s fiefdom,
Is Allah pleased?
When you fire upon civilians
When you shoot cowering women in the temple
Is Allah pleased?
When you blow up your own bodies
And your limbs lie upon the limbs of a young child
Is Allah with you?
When you kidnap young women
And use and abuse them for your own lusts
Does Allah approve of you?
When you deal in oil and drugs,
When you buy your stuff from gangsters and from thugs

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Dear Purveyors of Western Freedom,
When you lay waste to Arab cities,
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you ignore millions of dissenters
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you sell and manufacture chemical bombs,
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you create heaven in your lands
But sow discord and conjure hell elsewhere
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you oscillate between who is your ally and who is your terrorist
Is this for the sake of freedom and equality?

The Grass

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“All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass”. W B Yeats

A lush and fertile patch of grass shivered in the breeze, sighing blissfully. Fully exposed to the benevolent sun and enriched by the timely monsoons, the grass grew to a staggering height, accommodating countless creatures great and small. Nothing, so it seemed, could curtail its life-force; nothing could obstruct the sun or the rain replenishing it. The grass was suffused with a rich and deep shade of green, so much so that just to look upon it brought relief to hearts, just to hear its whispers in the wind brought tranquility to troubled minds.

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Before

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Before, I thought it all a hopeless mess

Imagined all a helpless cry of distress

Considered all a hapless guess

Rejected all a heartless process

Abandoned all, a homeless essence

Until I found it All a hidden blessing

Discovered All a hopeful beginning

Accepted All a history of genesis

Unveiled to All a heavenly gnosis