Friday, October 29, 2010

My most beloved

The carrier of the truth, oh, mankind can't you see

A warning to all mankind he was sent to be

So pure, gentle, truthful and kind he truly was

The words that he spoke was as gentle as dust

Loved by many, he had the best characteristics

He would visit the one that was sick

He would approach people with a smile

Nicknamed the most trustworthy he wasn't a liar

From a young age he was determined to be a prophet

Who wouldn't believe this with all the good examples he has set

The crying of younger children didn't bother him

Both parents dying didn't stop him from delivering

A message he carried that there's only one god

Trying to convey this message many battles he had fought

Taught many to treat younger with mercy

Never dealt with others harshly

Taught many to respect the elders

Don't dye with any debt he ordered to the debtors

He treated his wives justly and cared for them

Do as I do he told the other men

A great example he is to all humankind

Many biography of his life you will find We call it the sunnah following his ways

I have believed in his message until my dying days

He is my most beloved Muhammad is his name

May Allah bless him and have peace upon him

I have always loved him not because of his fame

But because he was a man of good characteristics and abstained from sins

Loving someone you've never seen can u imagine this

But this is something I've always been dealing with!

Mira Bint Abdul'Rauf

Copyright © 2010


Memories about me and you

And how we wanted to have babies

Remember how we hold

When it was cold

Promised to grow together

Till we old

We stayed out even when it was deep freeze

You had strong hold of my heart

You stole my soul

Made me believe and achieve

Made my mind roll like a bowl

But now you left me in grieve

And in pain

In my heart you still live

Coz even when I’m on my own

I don’t feel alone

I still feel your kiss on my cheekbone

And how you shone

Still remember how you moved

And you hips

When we were together

We called where we chill the hot zone

Still got your pictures on my phone

Oh God I still don’t feel alone

Coz I got her favorite song on my ring tone

She was brighter than star

I still get backlights of the past

And highlights of how you hugged

You were my light

And was always on my mind even midnight

I’m fighting these memories

I still can’t forget you

Still think of you till sunset

Coz you left a scar on my mind set

I better find you before I go blind

Whether you are in UK

Or Norway

I have to find your love

I can’t live with out you any ways

I need you treatment girl

These memories got me sick

Poet of The Streetz (P.o.s)

Copyright © 2010

Now!, Ask ME of LOVE!

In yen I declare a total state of love

I die in delight, dive in despite all attempts to discourage me

Pulsating beat in the dragons den

Where souls dwell in deficiency and despair

Their deadly eco’s drill my ears and draine me of desire

They are beating the drum rolls to my dare

I jump!!

He is my free fall to freedom

Now!, Ask ME of LOVE!

I’ve read many editions written on life

When long lost in sworn allegiance to laid laws by looming leeches

Amateur cheaters and immature deceivers

Those who lie when they get caught

Won’t learn when they get tough

With a warrant guarantee to get scarred by what they brought

This publications been a popular print, sells allot of paper and brings in great profit

How about a new version of the very tale in a real life read?

There’s a chapter on the innocence that a child feels

One on the beauty that the bold bleed

There are details of the depth only the ocean sees

A description of the purity only the heavens heed

I took a lesson from a less pessimistic presence

On a primrose path with trotted tracks

A pleasant parallel painted in a colourful coral

I now compose symphonise played in harmonic vocabulary of beautiful words

Compiled in a string of creative terms

Referenced from by love as a complimentary commentary

Allow me to tell you of his sound

His reasoning caressing my hearing and kissing my thoughts

I write to tell the tale of how our hopes conflated as our hands hesitated

Hear as I playback the soothing melodies of our lilting laughter

Compiled in a quite secret lagoon on the public stages of life

A bulky brick Love yet feather light

Like shining sunrays it’s beautifully bright

Good intentions and superior perceptions is its secret ingredients

Respect remains its muscle and might

When it’s time for loves feuds

Like the Dali Lama is how handle disputes

By propagating peace, proliferating prosperity

And promoting the whole of humanities plight

I’m already persuaded to pick fight

An attempt to describe him is like throwing a seven with a single dice

He’s unique and exceptional, extraordinary in particular

‘Out of the ordinary’ is unjust yet closest to precise

A caller to kindness

He a commuter unravelling the riddles of my roads

My keeper and I found the key to a love

A love that surpasses the suppressed

This brilliance of a blessing is surely the combined prayer of all believers

Born from the harem of pure hearts

He holds in a warm embrace the woman I dreamt of being

I hurry to take a sip from his cup of eloquent elixirs

A lethal liquid of lust.... wish me farewell

Time after time, forever in repeat

I gasp at his sight

In yen declaring a total state of love


Death for you is a delight

Rahma Hassan Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

10 Things I Would Say To A Somali Man

They said the streets were paved with gold

And every cloud was silver lined

And so we ran;

Stumbling across concrete borders

And icy shores on a promise that there was more.

I watched your heart fill with dreams of grandeur,

Riches and success only to be crushed

By the reality of life as an immigrant man,

Black and bold in a white man’s world.

And I wish I could keep you rooted

When your world is spinning out of place

Or offer you a warm embrace;

Read your palm and tell you secrets that’ll change your fate.

I have only dreamt of men like you; men who persevere and strive for life

And I fear this cold place will crush you.

If I could, I would tap you on the shoulder and tell you ten things to hold you steady.


That you will find success

By keeping faith in Him.

And that His unseen is greater than anything this earth can offer.


To take a moment everyday;

To take five and seek guidance and peace

In the gentle melodies of God.


That it is okay to be afraid

And great men have cried into the arms of a woman

Who held him gently and full of faith and love


To chose your friends carefully

And remember that humans

Sometimes come in the form of demons;

And demons sometimes look like friends.


Somalia bred you strong and stubborn.

Your pride could strain water from a stone.

But be humble in the presence of your parents.

They are the closest to the mercy of Allah you will find on earth.


Remember that the young are no more immortal than the old.

Steer clear of drugs and promiscuous women who put their beauty on show.

Live every moment as if you’re last and seek pleasure in the hereafter,

In heavens and Angels and Gardens beneath which rivers flow.


Forgive others,

So that you may be forgiven.


When you find her; love her completely.

And righteously, not in alleyways or empty theatres;

Build a family and she will be your home.


Your power lies in the length of your stride,

The distance of your reach.

Aim for the furthest the eyes can see and you will find angels there.


Believe in you.

Because you still have no idea,

Just how amazing you were meant to be.

Farah Gabdon

Copyright © 2010

Untitled by Mabsud

Tranquility seizes my frail body

By the slightest touch of your soothing hands,

My spinning world comes to a full stop

And mute's itself whenever I hear your soft voice

To which my brain goes numb

By its overflow of sudden euphoria,

Your cultivated knowledge feeds my curious mind

And opens my soul to admire all the beauty that surrounds me in this sadistic world,

Your smile enlightens my cloudy days and paves my way through this dark lonely tunnel

Hand in hand,

Side by side

Our hearts beating as one

To a sweet angelic melody,

Which sways our bodies as one unified rhythmic motion

You’re maybe not near me and miles away from each other,

But true love conquers all

Neither endless soil nor massive waters could keep us apart

Wherever you are,

I'll be there,

Not physically but subconsciously,

Smiling at you,

To pave your way

Through the dark tunnel

And be that rainbow at the end of each storm

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart."

Mabsud A

Copyright © 2010



The sun rises the sun sets.

Time passes us by, while we neglect.

We miss out on opportunities, so we regret.

Time, my mind can’t comprehend, so I keep questioning.

If there was no Day or Night then where would time begin?

Would I ever have known to repent?

Would I have known If I was near the end ?

The more I think about time the more I seem to understand,

that time is in gods hand.

Given to us to keep track and double check in life where stand,

cause it’s the devils whispers we need to withstand.

It’s his entertainments that lead us to disobey God’s commands.

Time emphasise on the fact that with life you can’t compromise.

Cause one they we all shall die, which is one of the things of our future we can’t deny.

Until the day we are called to rise, to be held to account to what we do in this life.

And accordingly to our actions we will pay the price.

Don’t procrastinate till it’s too late for you to realise.

The blessings of God that; has been showered upon you even before your existence.


Taha Sharif

Copyright © 2010

My Superman

My superman,

Does not fight criminals,

but instead fights all the silly notions and subliminal self hatred

society attempted to install in his eight year old state of mind

sporting him Spalding

in the place where his father should have been standing.

My superman,

Does not leap off tall buildings,

but instead breaks down walls

and climbs fortitude build by scared sisters like me,

who have only experienced a rotten sample of men

but aren`t too scared to re-acquaint their self

with the vast potential a good black man holds.

My superman,

Does not have a double identity,

lying to the woman he loves,

offending her sensibility and her trusting heart.

Nor is he one of those creeping baby mama investors,

diversifying his portfolio.

Or a down low digging dirt bag.

My superman,

Does not wear tight clothes.

Nor is he rocking a double XXL hood mentality,

dreaming of being the next lil Wayne, or Kobe Bryan,

before he dies in a drive by ambush

you may refer to as the black man’s circumstance.

My superman,

Walks with a quiet dignity,

yet leaves powerful prints behind.

He’s as stubborn as his hair,

as proud as his nose,

as sincere as his green eyes,

and as soft as his roaming fingers,

that draws our dreams and desires

over the contours of my womanly ways.

My superman,

Compliments me

as often as my heart beats,

and embraces my individuality unlike any other.

He is unafraid to acknowledge my womanly powers.

But most importantly,

My superman

lets me roam the reserved VIP corners of his heart,

and would easily allow me the use of his cape if I so desired.

And I swear,

since knowing him

I packed on a couple pounds of love and happiness

Since he won’t stop feeding me or loving me.

My superman,

Is vulnerable enough to

cry, communicate, love and laugh

without missing a beat to his masculinity.

All because he has a woman who isn’t afraid to tell him SHE NEEDS HIM.

Who also irons out his cape each morning,

Never forgetting to remind him that his superman and therefore unstoppable.

Did I tell you my love is superman?

He really is.

If you do not believe me,

just look into my eyes

and I swear you’ll see him fly.

I love you baby, your my kryptonite

Hayat Magan

Copyright © 2010

Culture and Colour

Culture expects me to cultivate my mind

I don’t talk scandal, simply not the kind

I don’t talk nonsense, following my sense of taste

Culture taught me, my breath not to waste

Primary colours in different cultures led to secondary

Diversity shapes us human, it’s simply elementary

Culture and colour, take each other by the hand

Our ancestors of different colour, arrived by sea and land

Some people gain, some lose and some add colour to stories

Who you are, is the least of my trivial worries

Some colours are running together, some colours are fading away

The ones who fade, find rest in the shade, come together and say

"Culture expects me to know its theory of colour:

Colourful splendour, vibrant like the rainbow in flavour"

Culture and colour, the picture was painted with pain

Cultures’ theory of colours, on his character a visible stain

Does it really matter if you are black or white?!

I guess my grandmother was right

Saying:” Sometimes colour & culture

Ugly as sin, colourless vulture.”

Pen 'N' Paper

Copyright © 2010

My man

I’ve never known a man like you

The memories that I’d keep close to my heart

Now you’ve chosen to be part

Don’t say you will walk away from this

An unforgettable bliss

For that one last kiss

The only man I want to give a child

A life I would love to start

I’ve never known a man like you

Who would look after someone but themselves?

My hero of my life, because you saved me with love

I think I hate that I love you so much, because I can’t go on Knowing my heart will break, if you disappeared

Looking in your eyes I see you have stories you haven’t shared

I’ve never known a man like you

Hold me close, tell me you love me whisper it to me

As I’ll whisper back the same words we are the only two people in this world

I’ve never known a man like you before.

Idil Ahmed Mahamed

Copyright © 2010

Nelson Mandela

Nelson Mandela of Africa,
You are the hero of Africa,
Not an icon of South Africa.
The legendary struggler of Africa,
The gifted father of Africa,
And the charismatic leader of Africa.
I salute you from a far distance,
I extol you for your distinct stance,
And for your inborn suave conscience.
I felicitate you on your fighting colonisation,
I congratulate you on your goal of liberation,
And your building of this giant African nation.
I am a student of your excellent school,
I am influenced by your noted example of a rule,
And on the way to sit on that humanistic stool.
Nelson, the acclaimed historian of Africa,
Mandela, the outspoken academician of Africa,
Rolihlahla, the globally celebrated politician of Africa.
The African school of literature
That reminds me my rich African culture,
Which I forgot because of other exposure.
Perusing your "Long Walk to Freedom"
Makes my mind sometimes dim and doom,
But your liberation gives me hope and room.
My author,
My warrior,
My teacher.
I salute you from a far distance
I extol you for your distinct stance
And for your inborn suave conscience.
Please, listen to me and stand still,
Tell your South African people not kill,
My Somali fellows working there for a bill.
Mohamed Abdikaadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2010

My Superman

The time is here. Now its only you and me. We are stucked together, like glues.

I cherish you, your smile, your hugs and your incredible smile. It is always there, it never leaves me. Indeed, you are wonderful and so powerful. With all control of my heart. The way you make me feel is a description you should give away to other guys! You have found the key. It was locked up and hidden for a very long time. You did the impossible, you got me hooked. Love for a great word! Letters cant even illustrate my urge!

You are my hope and inspiration in this life. In you, I found myself. I was in my bubble, tubble de’ shubble. You woked me up. You did that, some how, some way. The appreciation I have can beam up the complete universe up. Even with closed eyes, the brightness is overwhelming. So far gravity cant beat it in any way.

My precious superman, you are a dream I never want to wake up from. Believe me when I say, I wont forget you, not now, not tomorrow or the day after. You can witness it in you , remember you are a mirror reflection of me, wherever you might be, bear in mind that I would never leave.

Laila Siad

Copyright 2010


The first lady I ever knew was my dearest mother, I knew her before I was even born, before i even personally meet her, she nurtured me with her life force as within her I took shape and form, and when it was my time for this earth to roam, she delivered me into a warm and loving home.

She was the first one to teach me right from wrong, and when I was crying from illness she held me no matter how long, I still remember her sweet voice as she set me to sleep with a centuries old tender song, if there is a person I could give anything, it would be my mother with every fibre of muscle with every bone.

The strength of a woman has no measure, such vigour is no coincidence, the weight you carry I would collapse under in an instance, created with so much love, with so much substance, woman I cant express words to portray the heavenly make up of your essence.

I planted seeds in a beautiful garden, stood back and watched it blossom, within a woman I was reborn over and over again, one, two and three, little copies of me, my sun, moon and stars to illuminate my heart, for these gifts I will be ever grateful to the end just like I was from the start.

In a woman I found a worthy companion, within her I found a winner, a champion, in her presence time is at a suspension, if I were a ship out on the wide ocean, she would be my guiding lighthouse, carefully aiding me through life’s roughs course.

Woman to imagine a day without you on this planet, would be like being up on top of the highest mountain stranded, I know sometimes you feel unappreciated, and I know we leave you feeling utterly frustrated.

No matter what we do, because of your nature we could never change you, you’re the sun drenched smile that breaks out from the darkest cloud, your love is what really makes us stand tall and proud, like a solid centre covered in the softest velvet, every move you make is heartfelt.

Of you I can stay rooted here and write on and on, to the point my fingers give in and the ink in my pen is dry and gone, I could talk into the depth of the night, coming no closer to doing you right, but i could careless, for you forever would never be to long.

And when you question our admiration, remember you are the queen of every earthly nation, beautiful and true whether you are young and when time has turned your hair grey, close to me I want you to stay, heaven’s blessing travels down in the form of light and you are that glittering ray.

You are the embodiment of everything pure.

Hamza Egal © copyright 2010 all rights reserved.

El-Hajj Malik El-Shabbazz

A giant with the weight of a million dreams

carried effortlessly

on the most deserving of shoulders.

We call our kings from amongst ourselves,

You have the power to speak

to inspire decades after you leave us.

We held you in the arms of our hope

and maybe we held too tight

But because you fought

fight we did.

Teaching the world yes was no obligation

if you are not party to any contractual obligations.

We cannot be both the lovers

and the fighters.

You fought so that you could love

and taught the dignity of saying no

with a free voice

rather than living bowed and bound.

Because of that I will be courteous beyond measure

but someone will see the cemetary before I am cowed.

I wonder if they know in their attempt to silence you

That you live more virily in your death

That your life is carried through the whispers

that link history,

place and time.

To teach is the greatest gift to yourself,

It gives you immortality.

You will never die

as long as there is resistance,

As long as closed fists pound glass ceilings

and booted feet kick towards freedom.

Thank you brother El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz.

Nimo Hussein

Wrong Truth

"Like a pomegranate making love to a cactus tree

He will bleed your heart dry like the Sahara desert" she said

Not realizing I already bled all my fears and reservations

Monthly with my womanly cycle.

And now I am pregnant

Nursing the very thought of him between my forbearing breasts.

So friend, foe

Mother, child

Please refrain from aborting my love With your callous words.

Hayat Magan

Copyright © 2010

Ten (10) Things I would say to a Somali woman

Limiting myself to ten things I could say to you

Is doing you wrong, before my voice runs dry, let me get through

It's hard! I don’t know where to start

Your story simply broke my heart

You say, you can’t trust no one and stay alert

You say, your people and nation is still torn apart


One thing you are blessed with, is pride and strength

You walked that road called hope, endless in length


Two ways to lose faith, when brought face to face

Life of hardship has been brought to your mothers place


Three decades before that fateful day

Your parents praised your birth and prayed that you’d stay


Four generations now, your beauty didn’t forfeit, having your blessed moment

Who knew, while you gave birth, a whole nation did come to an end


Five decades, counting the years and tears, your daughter is in my age

You smiled while you said:” It’s on you to turn the page.”


Six years from now… I promised my daughter, your niece

To show her the birthplace of her grandmother, and bring back her peace


Seven Wonders of the World, wonder will never cease

I wonder if your heart still beats and feels at ease


Eight years ago… the last time you saw your mother


Nine years ago… the last time you heard from your brother


Ten years… being heartbroken is one thing, but 20 years out of home is another

20 Years...

((Carry on reading -

Inspired by:

Somalia – The Nation of Poets

& Ilwad Ismail

Pen 'N' Paper

Copyright © 2010


My Mama. Who cared me in her tummy for 9 months! How great she is! She never complained once. Have you ever thought of how wonderful your mama is?! Indeed, you should.

Remember Somalia? How much you provided for me..

No food, no drinks. Stucked in a place called nowhere. I almost starved too death. My stomach was screaming for your help as it did for 19 years ago. You couldn't sleep or do any because of it. How great Mama she is! I would never forget how you much love you showed too your own mama. You surprised me in ways I didn't know existed. The stories grandma told; stories I never heard before! I have never been more proud to be your daughter as I was when I was there. You were just a nomad and struggled to find your own way to make it in the end.

How great my Mama is!

Yup, that's my Mama! I use to say when I walked with her in the streets and I knew that’s its no one like my mama. Had my diraac on and my Qaamar straight on top.

Oh, how my Mama was scared of the Al-shabab! Poor children who they delusion to go Jennah!

No, paradise is not that way!

Oh, I wished they had my Mama. Perhaps they would have smelled the deen and stayed clean! Told them what's wrong and rights in this dunya. Gunshots everywhere, bomb here and bomb there. Not a single corner was safe, what if my Mama told them to worship Allah more than they worshipped the guns?

Oh, If they only had my Mama. 

Laila Siad

Copyright 2010

Sunday, October 17, 2010


Old movement issues in the 19th century

My knowledge about those issues is elementary

New movement issues from the 1960s onwards

Basic needs covered; it’s a long way to go to self-actualisation

Brought along a beauty and a street disciple to speak about our destination

Siham define us and tell me and them about peace

Madan tell them what’s going on, our people seem at ease

When all the basics are satisfied

Food, warm clothes and shelter, just to keep it clarified

Emotive issues in 1990s caused by fights

Men want to see their children, asking for father rights

Videos showing police being brutal to minorities

What is society based on, where are the boundaries

P&P every P, we dedicate for protest

Call me Siham, as straight as an arrow, never at rest

Aiming for the best

Madan, share your love, but let me first talk about peace

For people, by people, an achievement not grown on trees

Peace required in history blood, sweat and tears

These countries are now at peace, nobody fears

Chaos and pain; peace talks are made everyday

So we can live in peace & harmony – enjoy the full play

Do you know how they bind you over to keep the peace?

Bound to your peace gives him no peace; and vice versa, so please:

Make your peace with the world by looking close

Like Madan, tell them the issues, before peace becomes an overdose

I’m not bad but if I do bad, I’m Madan just another man

I should pack my bags and go back to my mother land

And if I vote labour

What’s their favour?

What can they do for me and you?

Would they consider my views?

Or manipulate the truth like they do on the news


All seem controlled; is that how it is supposed to be?

They call it democracy

I call it hypocrisy

A new world order a whole new philosophy

They pulled out the dictionary and wiped out integrity

Political agendas based on lies just like our currency

Ups and downs due to rates and now look at the economy

I call out for protest – like Siham and P&P

Word up! We need a collective behaviour a response to a strain

We get nowhere if we don’t get up and fear the pain

Caused by relative deprivation

That’s how we lose – reason for their elevation

Collective behaviour!

Is in our favour!

Panics, crazes, crowds, rumours, riots are an explanation

Something’s wrong in societies system – Protest is my destination

If there are no other vents for concern nor engagement

Discontent might shift social into radical movement

Things are taken for granted nowadays

Things that have been achieved by protest’s grace

For example – Women and their right to vote

Wasn’t achieved with a stroke

Of the pen – Segregation has been demolished

By the achievement of protest – Apartheid abolished

Call out to protests against injustice; let’s bring it to an end

Call out to human rights by making use of paper and pen

• Pen ‘N’ Paper in collaboration with Siham ᴘᴇᴷᴈᴈ Shire & Madan Ali •

• Inspired by sitting in the wrong lecture at University of Southampton •

• (Nightingale Building - Politics – Lecture Theatre A) •

Prophet Muahmmed (S.A.W)

Grew up as an Orphan

They hated you for your kindness and love

They called you a magician and a Madman

Aiming Bullets at you

But you had soldiers and Allah beside you

You were promised paradise yet you never gave up your prayers and your duty

Never has a prophet been Tested as you were

Such an Honorable "Mohammed the Grandson of Abu Mutalib"

Mecca was your home torn apart Immigrating to Medinain

In the books of History

Nobody mentions the pain you went through

You advised and advised yet so many turned away you didn't have wealth but you treasured your health

In blessed to be Muslim and carry your message you didn't Ask for a Lot just for people to believe in Allah and

Follow Islam Spreading Peace and patience Not to be Racist and allowed Mixed Races To gain Knowledge not ignorance

On your deathbed you still thought about us "your ummah"through centuries Muslims be carrying your message

But some added Extras to it Now we confused so many sects but i reject and follow your Sunnah!

Hamdi Abdullahi

Copyright © 2010



We refuse to see the light, as we blind ourselves with the darkness of our lies.

Not wanting to be confronted with the truth, but the truth is; this world is perfect.

But it’s we as people who inflict imbalance, and cause the world to be imperfect.

We complain about our problems instead if showing gratitude to god's blessings.

Whereas in the third world young souls suffer from proverty on early age, and all we seem to do is close our eyes and turn away.

To not feel guilty we pretend to be oblivious of the factual facts of reality.

So we continue chasing our desires and the lust for this imperfection world, to the point where we become slaves to our lower passion, because of whats fed to us by the society as freedom. We get media telling us hell lot of lies but we don’t really see them.

Young girls getting butt naked tryna symbolise freedom? But who am I to blame them.

Nowadays nudity is a trend to fashion. Society is deceving, misleading causing misconceptions in ones-self, and it starts with a lie as its inception.

So here I am verbalizing my thought to show compassion.

To those who are inslaved by western society that can’t think for their selves and believe everything they hear and see on TV, leaving them visionless. Not aware that revolution won’t be televised.

Taha Sharif

Copyright © 2010

Mirrored reflections.

They tell me to pay attention and live in the parameters of the system, walk the street and CCTV has me on close observation, they say its for my protection and not because I am a lowly citizen that requires constant supervision.

Blessed with a little education and deep thinking, I read the fine print on government prescription, so when you ask me to swallow that medication called law, eroding my birth attained freedom; I am ready to go to war.

They say the youth are unruly, but who are you to speak, when every word you verbalize is laced with lies, I am rebellious, to understand take a look into my eyes, the young respond and react, a smaller scale of the governmental acts, rob and steal, trained cubs of the wolf pack.

They ask why I write, its simple as writing what I feel, what my eyes see as I walk through life is real, as real as the earth that touches my heels, the heaviness is due to the darkness I try to wash away and peel.

Through this gift of writing my heart and my mind stay in touch, as soon as I see that white sheet of paper these words beginning to rush, the thoughts multiple, some times I feel like my head is about to bust.

Pain I feel seeing children as old as my three boys, hunger turning them stiff, weakened to the point that they cant even shift, the only movement is in their eyes, dry from everyday tears, starvation and famine all they’ve known today and the yester years.

For so many third world children today is a repeat of yesterday, and no hope for those that came after, I ask those who feel what I feel, what constitutes the answer, please tell me, have we all caught the capitalist cancer.

I sleep laboured and awake to the smell of ammunition, every morning over whelming my sense of communication, wondering how mankind can spend billions on destruction, is capitalist contribution only to contest on plunder, and the innocent lives considered lambs put to the slaughter.

So every other morning the letter starts, dear Mr. Cameron and Mr. Obama your governments contribute half of the world’s horror, imagine if you were the ones holding on to survival, living in poverty and sorrow, in the conditions you create would you be able to hold on and hope for a better tomorrow.

In blind or greed driven ignorance the brainless follow, the only problem is that you forget that once the time is up from tomorrow a second further you will be unable to borrow, if these words ever reach you I hope they add to your morality, from where I stand it is empty and absolutely hollow.

Hamza egal © copyright 2010 all rights reserved.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Group poem 14 - Islam (acrostic) poem

I - I urge you to

S - Submit to your Lord

L - Love his way with

A - Affection, Sincerity, compliance so that

M - Mercy be showered on you!


I - in my heart

S - safeguarded is my faith

L - living by it is my only

A - aim in life

M - May Allah Ta’aal make my last words la ilaha illa Allah, Muhammad rasool Allah...


I - Identity, so true

S - Soldier of Allah

L - Lessons by the faithful

A - Always in my heart

M - Magical journey for the soul


I - Impeccable

S - Silence- One should say something good or say nothing at all

L - Land of paradise is what I am Aiming for, even though doubts linger my mind- have I truly done enough? No, not just yet!!!

A - Ambitions- A new day, another chance... to strive for better

M -My mind is always searching for a conversation with my Lord. Forgiveness and a symbolic light at the end of a dark and dreary tunnel is what I ask for.


I – Intolerance and disrespect can’t be excused, ban on niqabs and hijabs is just another excuse.

S – Scrutinized and frowned upon…On the train to work they just can’t help but to screw

L – Liberty and democracy, where the majority dictates and the minority decays…I guess there is no better then

A – Adversity, every hardship has its own seed to overcome its own disease

M – Moments like these, sabr is in need, let them judge us, disprove and dislike us…Like they say every dog has its day, they shall have their day when they will be raised up as deaf, dumb and blind…Then they shall say Oh Allah send us back so we can PRAY…Then it is too late!


I – Imperfect human being

S – Still able to follow the perfect religion

L – Light as a feather but deep as an ocean

A – All complications must come from me

M – Moderation is the building blocks of ibadah

-Floating Pearls

I – In a world full of deception, where shaitan whispers evil inceptions, Islam perfect religion and the way of life, guides mankind.

S – Simple deen, one Ummah stronger than wolverine, where Hajibi is a queen, having an Islamic state of mind to avoid existence without meaning.

L – La illaha Illa Allah, proudly waving the black banner and Allah the supreme and majestic is the best planner, behold ponder over your manner lest hell becomes your manor.

A – Assalamu ‘Aleykum is our humble greeting, a dua in itself, salah nourshing souls and thyself, Alhamdulilah for the religion of peace and may our iman increase.

M – Muhammed (peace be upon him) is our beloved prophet, Islam is the deen-ul-haqq and being a muslim is a blessing bestowed upon us by Allah Subhan wa ta’aal


Sam Said, Halima Ali Ahmed, Zana Hashi, Rahma - The thinker, Muna ATM Mohammed, Floating Pearls, and Ilhan Islam

Copyright © 2010

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Greek Mythology

Note: Abdirahman is 10 years old and is in grade 5. He is truly enchanted by greek mythology, ecology, astronomy among other things :) After seeing Idil's poem he said he wanted to write one too about the Greek gods. Abdirahman is surely one of the smartest 10 year old I have met thus far :)

I am Zeus and I am the king of gods

My father is Cronus

He was the king of everything

Zeus grew up in an island

He grew up and got stronger

He went back to Cronus

He tricked his father to spit out his brothers, Poseidon and Hades.

Zeus, Poseidon and Hades combined all their powers to defeat their father, Cronus.

Now Zeus is king of the gods and everything else.

Abdirahman Bedel Hussein

Black Hole

Note: Idil is one of the kids I tutor along with a group of Mount Holyoke students...Today, she didn't have much homework so I suggested she wrote a poem and she went on google and typed "Black Hole" in less than 5 minutes she had this done..She is in 3rd grade and she is 8 years old. MashAllah, she is truly a talented kid.

The black hole was made from old stars

Then the old stars combined together and made the black hole.

Nothing can get away from the black hole not even light

This is why the earth is not closed to the black hole

And if it was, then the earth would get sucked in and all the people would die.

Idil Bedel Hussien


They say the arrival of a daughter

Is undesired, unwanted, parents committed slaughter

They say it marks the beginning of a nightmare

How come they don’t see beauty and blessing over there

She is a burden on the shoulders that

Have raised her, it has always been her trait

Even the womb that carried her for so long

Refused an abundance of love, but treated her wrong

Birth was nothing but a mournful day

Darling, wish I was there just to say

Don’t go, we need you, please stay

Fast forward ten years

Close your eyes, whoever fears

The tragic future of the unfortunate who can’t climb that ladder

She became a slave for any younger and elder

Boys were too good for house work since birth

They were given the world, but what determines their worth

Mother trains her so she can be more

Cursing that day, asking what she conceived her for

Knowing, oh too well women have always been the undesired gender

Used and abused, loved when they put their mask on and keep it slender

Brothers and fathers order her to clean

Fairness doesn’t require “same” but equal, you know what I mean

Yet he maintains, his sons and his pride

While she says:” Dear father, I would die for you, don’t push me to the side.”

Good for nothing, society! What are you good for!

I curse the day you came to reign, more and more!

Fast forward twenty years

Close your eyes whoever fears

Her destiny, she became a beautiful wife

Trying to make a difference, she did survive

A lovely husband but, soul same character as her aunties brother

Respect and love for the soul that unifies, don’t know from one another

“Let’s have a son.” His biggest wish

It’s preying on her mind, while serving dish

As if the gender of the unborn child is in the hands of women

So hard to see the beauty? Life is not about spreading genes in semen

Forgetting that it takes two to create one

Love your wife and Love will raise your daughter and son

And above all, it is for Allah to decide

Remember what she said? ”Dear father, I would die for you, don’t push me to the side.”

Dedicated to all the girls that have been buried alive

And those who did survive

Halima Ali Ahmed in collaboration with Pen 'N' Paper

Copyright © 2010


Dedicated to my heartbeat

As I stare at this blank page

Thinking of ways I could master

And articulate words to let you know

Just how precious you are to my heart

And how you add an everlasting significance and beauty to my life

I am reminded of my inabilities

And most of all the limitations of the English language

For no sentence

Or word can ever truly do justice to express my love for you

For you are my strength when am nothing and my everything from birth until now

You have been like a mother when hooyo was away

A sister I could always count on

A true friend at all times

And although there were times I contemplated of strangling you

For being so darn annoying

There never has been and never will be a time I would not do anything for you

For my love for you exceeds everything that there is in this world and above

In the list of my blessings

I count you x 7

You are the most radiant and beautiful sunflower in the garden of my life

-Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010


Naima, beautiful name, name for people different at places

No races, one people, coloured with delight their faces

Grace, Naima, your name means: the one deeply contented

Jealousy is not your colour, your heart is neither tainted.

Naima stands for all the women in the world

That know, what they are worth and teach their girl:

“Always keep your head up and never stop!”

Beauty runs in the name line, from your toe to the top.

Naima, a smile of joy

Everyone is all smiles saying: “Oh boy,

She has a smile with delight

Can’t help but raise a smile through the night.”

Naima, fortune is blessed on us

Warmth of her temperament is based on trust

They say, I felt a warm glow of emotion

I say, I felt all your untainted devotion.

Naima, by the thought of you, all minds dress up warmly

They can’t explain and shiver, an affection felt deeply

A declaration of love goes further, I better bite my lips

Tell me your story, while playing the piano, admirable your fingertips.

Naima, Africa and the Orient mould you into a fine person

Your eyes blazed with fire, when I read this poem's other version

Passion of youth, we are going the same way

Still a long way to go, memories don’t vanish but stay.

Naima, a smile so bright

A smile called Snow White

Your eyes were the light

Of his life, passing by on the other side.

Standing for all the ladies: Fatima, Zaira and Naima

Leave the men dream like a dreamer

Naima your beauty is the dream

Painted in colours so supreme.

Pen 'N' Paper

Copyright © 2010

wishing upon a star

Wishing upon a star

Waiting for a miracle

Waiting on the world

Wailing about the past

Wearing your heart on your sleeve

Wondering where to from here?

Wisdom as rare as unicorns

Wealth in your pockets, emptiness fills your heart

Winding path that carries you to your destiny

With all your strength you master on

Where is everyone heading?

Why are they living without purpose?

When it all comes down to the end

What’s been gained?

Worlds strong prey on the weak

Wingless birds seeking heights

Worthless things with priceless tags

Will someone lend a helping hand?

Will someone be there to catch you when you fall?

Will someone show the way when you’re lost?

Will someone heal you when you’re hurt?

Will someone walk with you when the journey’s long?

Will someone wait for you when the world has long gone?

Will someone be there no matter what?

Will someone build you when others aim to break you?

When life’s challenges bring you to a halt

Will someone be there to give you a starting jolt?

When you are drowning in bitter days

Will someone be there to remind you of better days?

When suddenly you feel like giving up

Will someone hold you and lift you up?

When they reject you, and try to change who you are

Will someone be there to accept you for who you are?

When the questions finally run dry

When you are tired and can no longer cry

When you are ready to wave the world goodbye

When you lay down your weary head and just sigh

When you let it all go and close your eyes

You realize God was there all along

Famo A. L

Copyright © 2010

20 years of apathy

The neglect to our streets:

we see injustice and violence, but we hear maxa kaa galay,

ka soco and ha isku eegin.

Some days go on ,

But the hypocrisy remains,

people hold on to this imaginary image of waa caadi ,

yet its far from caadi , but nobody cares.

more days go on,

And the tribe sorting ( whoms ability we wit) remains

by the aid of ous.

...This time the blood in the streets burst , into homes.

Still nobody cares.

Now years go on ,

And we see might craving men.

One after another sitting on a chair,

the chair of lunity.

Once they sit,

they forget the duty of theirs,

and the asset of their nation.

Yet still nobody cares.

Several more years go on,

and nothing isn't changed.

There is: Hypocrisy, neglect, mightcraving leaders etc.

But yet we see a glimpse of hope, called the new generation of hope.

This troop is armed whit, faith solidity and unity,

but most off all they are gifted with knowledge,

knowledge of peace!

After last two decades of civil war,

I say its time to wipe the tears of our dears,

to stop the bloody aggressions of our kinds,

and to become ratified as one Again!

Sign yourself , for the troop of PEACE!

Nacima Yuusuf.

Copyright © 2010

I was born

I was born with a bang

With uncertain beginning

And a future still unwritten

And an end as yet unknown

I was born with a bang

I was born with a bang

With horizons ever expanding

Filled with emptiness of space

Broken only by clusters of galaxies dotted around

Incubators of lifeAnd of death

I was born with a bang

I was born with a bang

Nurseries of stars

Bright shinning things

With fusion at their hearts

And planets as their companion

Orbiting, regular as day and night

I was born with a bang

I was born with a bang

Time marches on relentlessly

Planets transform

Nourishing as it does so

Nature evolves and adopts

With ever evolving arms race

With the wonders we see around us today

I was born with a bang


Copyright 2010

So close, but yet so far away

You are so unique; do you even know how much you have done for me? Words can’t even explain it in every manner. You encouraged me, told me nothing was impossible until it’s done. Strong words from Nelson Mandela you used to say.

I cried, I laughed, but at least I did all those things with you. You never value your friends when they are there, but as soonest you lose them. BOM! Your life seems worthless. Tears are dripping down, not from the sky, but from your eyes. And then, one day, you don’t get the chance to say goodbye. Its too late, they are gone.

She is not picking up her phone anymore. Your text would not send. You have tried too many times now. You want to give up, then suddenly you her voice, “don’t you ever try to give up, never!”

You write another text, saying please come back. I need you here. Where are you?

You wait few minutes, still no feedback. You close your eyes. She is smiling, laughing, and hugging you. Switch. Her face has darkened. You can’t get the image out of your head. You see yourself at the grave place, caring a tulip an, a yellow one, her favorite color. You put it down and pray for her. Hoping God would send her to a better place.

You look back at your phone. The tears are covered by the phone. You stare, and stare. No reply. It’s never going to shine again; the rain won’t bring to an end. The only thing you miss is the sunshine.

Your sunshine.

The one she used to be.

Rip,My dear.

Laila Siad

Copyright 2010

Every Somali Girl is My Sister by Sindiya Darman

Faduma shook her head to get the thoughts of Abshir out of her mind. She needed to concentrate. Holding, Khadra's arm firmly, she drew the henna tattoo design on her friend’s hand. Faduma had created a new design for her customers. Today her friend was her test subject.

Khadra’s eyes widened as she watched. “Faduma this is beautiful. I am sure every girl is going to beg you to get this done. Wow-”

Faduma blushed, but didn’t look away from the design until she finished. “Just be careful until it dries.”

Faduma started her henna design business two years ago. She made a few hundred dollars a week drawing henna tattoos and always gave half of her money to her mother. Then she spent the rest on clothes. But- now she wanted to buy a car. She knew that buying a car in Toronto was expensive, but her uncle in the States had told her that, if she sent him the money he would buy one for her.

“Don’t forget Faduma. You promised you were going to come with me to that reggae club. I do not want to waste my Eid night at a Somali concert,” she reminded her.


The doorbell buzzed. Faduma grabbed the remote from the table. She put on channel 159, so she could see who was in the downstairs lobby.


Khadra raised her hands in frustration. “Are you still talking to him?”

Faduma ignored her. She knew Khadra meant well, but Khadra thought she always knew what was best for Faduma.

Pulling her long hair into a ponytail, she put on her necklace with a small golden heart, and she smiled brightly. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful. But Faduma, why do you like Abshir? You are pretty, artistic, and on the honor roll. You can do so much better than Abshir. He is just another loser Somali guy who roams the streets. Does he even know that you are interested in him?”

Faduma’s lips tightened in anger. “Shut up. You don’t even know him. Abshir is sweet, funny, and smart. He is not a loser. Besides we are just friends.”

“Friends?” Khadra snorted. “You need to stop wasting your time with Somali guys.”

“Wasting time? I don’t understand why you hate Somali guys when your brothers are Somali and your father is Somali. Other guys- will see you as just another girl, like you are nothing- While a Somali guy sees you as so much more than-”

“More than- what?”

“I can’t explain it. Look I’ll be back.” Faduma said.


Faduma pushed the apartment building doors open and saw Abshir leaning against the wall, when he saw her he smiled revealing his perfect teeth.

He looked so cute today. She could tell that he had a new haircut. He was the cutest guy that she had ever seen. He pushed back against the wall and stepped towards her. She felt her skin flush. She hated all the new feelings that were boiling up in her for him. What was wrong with her?

Nervously, she pushed back a stray hair. Abshir watched her intently. Her heart started pounding.

“What’s good?” he asked in a low voice.

She took a deep breath. “Just practicing a new henna tattoo with Khadra.”

He rolled his eyes.

"What? She is my best friend. I need a new design since I am saving to buy a car," she protested.

“Oh-I just came over to ask you a quick question,” he ran his fingers through his short curls.

She rubbed her hands against her jeans, and held her breath as she waited for him to continue.

Abshir cleared his throat, “I wanted to know if you had an extra phone charger. I lost mine.”

Immediately Faduma hopes crashed. Phone charger! What! She tried hard to keep her temper from exploding. She breathed out. “I will check.”


Later that night Faduma sat at a table in Club Paradise with Khadra. Khadra had been making fun of her all night. She refused to let go of Faduma’s humiliation.

Khadra’s eyes were bright with tears of laughter. “He wanted to borrow your cell phone charger! He came all the way to the Westside just to ask you that. Loser! I was sure he was finally going to ask you out. I told you not waste your time with a Somali guy.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that Abshir and me are just friends?”

Khadra wiped her eyes. “I don’t know who is worse. You or him,” she doubled over with laughter, again.

A gorgeous, tall, caramel-skinned Jamaican walked up to their table and extended his hand to Faduma. “Do you want to dance? I will buy you whatever drink you want.”

She hesitated, but Khadra pushed her.

Faduma shook her head.

“Ok, what about you?” he laughed, “What is your name?” he asked


“My name is Dante,” he took her hand, and pulled Khadra into the dance floor.


Abshir looked around the concert hall until he saw Ladan sitting with her friends. He went up to her and tried to speak over the music. “Where is Faduma?”

“Oh- she went to Club Paradise with Khadra. I can’t believe it. I heard that a girl got raped there last week. ”

Abshir pulled back in surprise. What-? If anything happened to her-. It was time to go.


Dante was too grabby. Khadra kept pushing his hands away, but he kept trying to touch her. Finally, she had enough. “I need to go to washroom.”

Khadra squeezed past all the people on the dance floor. She rolled her eyes. Dante was such a jerk. At least there was no one in line for the restroom.

She started to open the door when someone grabbed and pulled her into the corner.

It was Dante.

He pushed her against the wall, and she struggled against his grip, “Let me go.”

“Why are you being so stuck up, Somali girl?” he said as he breathed on her neck.

“Stop it,” she said.

“I hate you Somali girls. You are always so stuck up just because you are pretty. Never want to give a chance to anyone unless they are Somali.”

“You don’t even know me.”

He laughed, but didn’t release his grip. “I know you Somali girl. You are all the same. You walk around with your good hair and light skinand think you are too good for guys like me. I am going to teach you a lesson. I will show you what you missing.”

Khadra tried to push him, but he was too strong. She wanted to scream, but his hand covered her mouth. Her fear rose into her throat. What should she do?


Faduma searched the dance floor for Khadra, but couldn’t find her. She had a bad feeling. Khadra had been gone for a while and she would never disappear this long. They had a rule that they had to check in every two songs.


She turned around to see Abshir grinning at her.

“Abshir, I can’t find Khadra. I looked everywhere. I-”

Abshir frowned and his eyes darkened. “Don’t worry. We will find her.”


Khadra struggled against Dante but he was too strong. She felt like a child. She couldn’t get away no matter what she did.

Suddenly, Dante let her go.


Abshir held Dante’s shoulder then punched Dante in the face sending him staggering back. Dante rushed forward in anger, and then Abshir punched him in the stomach.

Dante held his stomach in pain. “Bamba-clot Somali boy stay out of my business.”

Abshir gave him a scathing look. “You messing with my sister is my business.

Dante’s eyes flew open and he stormed out of the hallway.

“Khadra!” said Faduma as she reached out to pull her into a hug. “Are you okay?”

Khadra couldn’t believe that Abshir had defended her. Why would he bother?


Khadra stiffened when she saw Dante behind them carrying a knife. “Look out!” she shouted.

Abshir faced Dante.

Grinning wickedly, Dante waved the knife, “Now, what are you going to do?”

“No, what are you going to do?” Mohamed AK threatened.

Khadra eyes widened when she saw five of Abshir’s friends walking into the hallway.

Dante glared at him. “This is one on one.”

“In life we don’t always get what we want.” Mohamed AK exchanged glances with his friends and they pulled out their knives.

“What the-” Dante spat on the floor.

Abshir raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t anyone warn you not to never ever touch our sisters?”

“She is not really your sister- is she?” Dante asked.

Abshir laughed. “Every Somali girl is my sister.” He nodded towards the girls. “Let’s get back to the concert before it ends. You are making me miss Hassan Adan Samatar, and he is my favorite singer.”


Our beloved Prophet (PBUH) said; “Modesty is part of faith for those who follow not we solemnly lay a wreath.”

Women are amongst Allaah’s most adorable creation and sweetest blessings, a figure of love in our society. Indeed sister Allaah has honoured and described you in the best of manners. You are among those sisters in Islam that bring life to its beauty and bring joy, love to our household. By Allaah, you are indeed simply beautiful.

You are more beautiful than a rose! Much loved in Allaah’s sight, you are dearer to all the angels, yet more beautiful than a full moon. In obedience of Allaah’s commands you do all the things wise and thoughtful.

“Inshallah you be the princess of Paradise.”

O Allaah most merciful, make our sisters in Islam pray day and night till they can say truthfully and proudly, “I prayed my Salat for the sake of Allaah.” O Allaah most great, give our sisters all that which is good in this world and the hereafter. O Allaah most high, give our sisters a life full of happiness and nobility. O Allaah, support our sisters, strengthen their faith and their character.

"From your brother in Islam."

Ahmeddeey Maba Shiixaayo

Copyright © 2010