The Nation of Poets: 2013

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

I am a warrior

You fooled my heart

Never kissed my face

Never held my hand

Never looked at me with a smile

Like a mother should

Like an angel should

Without any care

Only instructions

Was what you gave me

You shoved me aside

Like a broken glass

Like I never mattered

Maybe I should never have met you

You inspected me and judged me

Like you were in a court

Like it was illegal I was alive

The scars you gave me

Comes back and tyrannize me

Snatching the little happiness I get

Like I don’t deserve to be here

Like I don’t deserve to be loved

Trying to forget but

You pull me down

And make kneel

Like I am wicked

Like I am vicious

Tired of you scaring me

Tired of you catching up with me

You only let me down

Won’t allow me to move on

I will fight back

I will fight with the darkness

Like I have never been hurt

Like I have never been broken

Like I have never been wounded

I am a warrior

Nasteha Liban

DALSAN

Dalsan ciidaydiyeey

Naftaa kugu diirsatoo

Dareenkaad wehel utahay

Waxaa kugu dega qalbiga

Waxaa deeqdaa indhaha

Dalaan dhinacaaga dhigo

Miyuu dunidaba jiraa

Dantaa iga kaa wade

Markii dumarkiyo caruurtii

Xamdaay duqaydii laxaaqay

Sokeeyihii uu is dilay

Walaalihii deris ahaa

Dabkii kala qaadan baa

Ayaan dalway oo hurdada

Dawaali maseexdo aan

Dal dheeroow laguma dego

Maxaan dibadeey kunacay

Maxaa dhaqan dooris yaal

Maxaad dhalintii dulmiday

Maxaad wiil door ahaa

Diintiisu islaam ahayd

Wax daran aad u hor kacdoo

Surwaal dabadii ka dhacay iyo

Badhkood timihii dabteen

Hubaal dumar shaabeheen

Maxaad inan door ahayd

Edebta daw looga dhigay

Surwaal daba dhuuban iyo

Wax daran aad u horkacdoo

Jidhkeedii debecsanaa

Xubnihii uu daayin yidh

Ded oo qari yaan la’arag

Intii laga deyrey iyo

Ragoo dhami daawadaan

Fatha S Colujoog

Fire from Dry Grass

Should I blame the mothers,

or the villagers who did not sing?

Who did not light a bonfire from dry grass

or roast meat in my name?

They only sing songs when boys are born

and like a straight arrow to an enemy’s chest

boys bring freedom.

To the people of my village a boy completes a half empty home

but a girl is pain, born from a man’s crooked rib.

So I was welcomed with silence.

Nimo H. Farah

The answer to all the things I was seeking, once the realisation of a good woman’s worth had set in. You walked patiently into my life when I couldn’t be with just any body for the sake of just having somebody.

When it came to love things never seemed to go my way, so I sat in waiting for something different, something just a little more. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes as before. Smiles, tears and goodbyes, they could do nothing about the emptiness in my eyes.

In the oceans of love there are realities and fantasies. I knew you were the one heaven meant for me, you merged the two and turned my life into a beautiful melody.

From me you can never expect a hurtful hand. Someone who is too ignorant to understand what it means to be a real man. I thank you for giving me the opportunity to be the one who gives you protection.

You placed your heart in my possession to keep. From that day you became the centre of every single thought every single heart beat. In your words I found trust, in your eyes I saw my future.

Through your love and affection my maker gave me a beautiful baby daughter. You laugh at me as I talk to her. Saying how envious I am of her, now that I have to share the love of her mother.

Time has intertwined our fate. You saved me from a world of hate and dishonesty. It doesn’t matter what life throws at me. Solace of the heart you give me every time your lips part.

Wisdom and beauty, nothing compares. You’re like a treasure that keeps on giving, like the heavens have seven layers. Would I be wrong to say god completed the blessings meant for me. That day you walked into my life, Allah knows how hard it is to be my wife.

You believe in my quests, for some reason I am chasing the world’s problems. Never a word of discouragement, strategy and compassion everyday she teaches me a new lesson.

If there is anything or anyone I should be thankful for, it’s you. You bring intelligence infused with elegance into my rugged world.

With you by my side the load is never too heavy.Your beauty enchants me every sunrise, every sunset and in between every second of every moment. My appreciation for you goes beyond mere words, it’s deeply heartfelt.

Life is Poetry

Life is poetry -

poetry is you and me.

Written, hidden in my chest,

inhaled, exhaled, you witnessed,

lived countless breaths, amazed

you turn back, embraced

by a remembrance.

You take a step, a verse

left behind by your footprints.

Imprints of the past,thoughts and emotions flow

with time hand in hand.

At times you felt weak,

at times you felt strong,

at times you felt lonely,

not ready for the journey.

Every moment made you wiser,

you rise and appreciate every single word.

Grateful, that life is a masterpiece.

It is poetry,

poetry is you and me

hoping to sign it one day

with لا إله إلا الله.

Pen 'N' Paper

Monday, October 7, 2013

Marriage: It Isn’t Really A Choice

I go to bed with ideas lately

after hearing women speak through the radio.

The women on the radio are free.

I wonder if they know about me, a girl

who lost her smile at fifteen

when I was married to a man older than my father.

I was a child decorated with henna and borrowed gold.

I don’t remember smiling.

Time moves slowly

as I sit under the sun.

When I sell mangos in the market, I think of going away.

Now I have gold of my own, small pieces I bargain for

from the other market women

and bury under our hut.

I listen to the radio to learn how to speak

like a city woman.

I save newspaper pictures of dresses I want to buy

when I go there.

I will keep my head covered.

Nimo H. Farah

Autumn’s Second Call

Autumn’s second call

for the leaves.

Golden fall –

engraved on yellow trees.

“Hold me” –

embraced me.

“Try to see” –

neglected me.

Many fears –

pierced me.

“Trust me” –

part of me.

“Become free” –

treated me.

Kindly.

Floating gently –

A golden leaf

at autumn’s second call.

Pen 'N' Paper

The Old Iris

From Home ...

The dust of those who have gone before us

The empty houses of our beloved ones

The only cloud on the blue skyI call from home.

Trees of our home, and the old builders

that only build the land for 20 years

Expected the youth would be with them!

Wisdom of our grandfather

Planting on our earth

I'm the rock that shamelessly

forgot where his roots are.

Back Home

Where my neighbours still visits me

Pure like Lily, or more like the white cloud

The days will come and the sun is right behind me.

Home, I call

I'm right behind that door

And the old Iris is with me.

ShadiatiQue

Where Hearts Are Remade

He scatters you with trials that seems to make you drown

Even if you migrate to Chinatown

By any means the struggle is never to make you frown

For He loves you more than your Umm, you know better don’t be a clown

For He’s Al-Waduud, an incomparable love only from Him

Above He’s love fills your emptiness like a perfect matching gloveNo matter how hard

His tests shove His ever waiting for you to raise your hands to Him above

You see the tears He made you shed

And the pain He made your heart bled

His wisdom was never to make you dread

But to enlighten this dunyah is not for you, and triumph is what lays ahead

But many of us Is this fleeting world we choose Though we know it’s a vanishing magic cruise

Yet we run after it for all the disappointing bruise

The attachment of this play will make your heart loose

For I swear By all His beautiful names, Only through Him is where shattered hearts in victory exclaims

It’s a reality! Don’t think I am playing your mind any games

Through ALLAH-The Almighty is where broken, hopeless, fearful, saddened hearts in peace reclaims

When the thunder of calamity strikes,

Where you find all the mountains of the world assemble to your chest

To crush you , to make you drop tears of rain

And everywhere you placed hope is gone with the wind

Remember in Allah Alone is where HEARTS ARE REMADE

He strikes you to polish your soul what a beautiful trade

He rebuilds you over and over no matter how many times you strayed

Pure HEART HE seeks, hereafter is the heart that is weighed

You see ALL the struggles HE put you through is the road to lead you to HIM

so only through Him your heart is beautifully remade

Zahra Hussein Ali

Wind of Somalia

I see the grass bowing down

The air has cleared

The smoke of 20 years has gone

Eyes that were blind can now see again

The tricks of the lying hyena

The web of deceit spun by the spider

Everything is made clear

The trees are shaking

The shadows do not want to be relieved

They are scared

Shouting for everyone not to look

Turn away from Somalia

Go away

Afraid that the world will see the blue diamond under the ashes

But the wind is picking up

The ashes are falling away

It is happening

Don't you know that it is Impossible to stop the wind

So shake with fear

Cry a tear or two

But you can't stop it

Lady Somalia has woken up

She needs help to stand

Until she finds her strength once more

You can't stop the wind

Sindiya Darman

The Making of Me

It was a normal afternoon

And I was scrolling down Facebook

Statuses coiled up with rants

Started popping up

You know, the same old

Then there was one with a ‘sister’

Kneeling down, feeding a dirty old man

With a sign that said ‘ homeless, need food.’

You know, the same old

Signs you see, scrolling down Hasting

But, the picture itself was

Kind off

I mean, technically speaking

I was supposed to see

The woman with large “ S-sign’

While, I awed ‘ a wonderful women’

Don’t get me wrong, I think it was nice

But, Why?

Why was this in a social media sight?

Did she request it?

It was like when I see those

African missionary work

“ Amazing grace , how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost but now am found “

Is pounded into our eardrums

And the face of my long lost cousins

Appears, cover, coded with

The soft dust of the Mogdishu

But, the smiles of thousand

Of the children of Jammah

Playing Dumnad

Is like an unheard moment

Never captured in history

So, I continued to ask myself why

Why do we find a must to throw 25 cents

But are unable to give a simple hello

Why are we able to talk about ‘ revolutionizing’

But are unable to stop the judgments

That have released bombs

In our word

Since, the falling of Adam and Eve

Destroying the last seed of humanity

The dust of whys

Began polluting my brain

And I was in need of

Eco-friendly environment

Of answers

And God heard my cry

And send John

A nice old man

With a smile

That made the sun shine

And he simply looked at me

And said’ what do you think?”

At first I thought, huh

What do you think?

Of what?

So, I went on a tangent

And said

I think the sky looks better with that pinkish color

I think the heart is really an oval shape

I think wars were really fought with light-beams

I think the wind dancing forms the best beat

I think…

And before I was going to complete that answer

He looked at me

And said no

And his deep blue eyes

Glared right into me

And he said ‘ what do you think of love ?’

That was the moment, I found my answer

‘ I think, we don’t know what love is”

Hannah Ali

What do you think?

It was a normal afternoon

And I was scrolling down Facebook

Statuses coiled up with rants

Started popping up

You know, the same old

Then there was one with a ‘sister’

Kneeling down, feeding a dirty old man

With a sign that said ‘ homeless, need food.’

You know, the same old

Signs you see, scrolling down Hasting

But, the picture itself was

Kind off

I mean, technically speaking

I was supposed to see

The woman with large “ S-sign’

While, I awed ‘ a wonderful women’

Don’t get me wrong, I think it was nice

But, Why?

Why was this in a social media sight?

Did she request it?

It was like when I see those

African missionary work

“ Amazing grace , how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost but now am found “

Is pounded into our eardrums

And the face of my long lost cousins

Appears, cover, coded with

The soft dust of the Mogdishu

But, the smiles of thousand

Of the children of Jammah

Playing Dumnad

Is like an unheard moment

Never captured in history

So, I continued to ask myself why

Why do we find a must to throw 25 cents

But are unable to give a simple hello

Why are we able to talk about ‘ revolutionizing’

But are unable to stop the judgments

That have released bombs

In our word

Since, the falling of Adam and Eve

Destroying the last seed of humanity

The dust of whys

Began polluting my brain

And I was in need of

Eco-friendly environment

Of answers

And God heard my cry

And send John

A nice old man

With a smile

That made the sun shine

And he simply looked at me

And said’ what do you think?”

At first I thought, huh

What do you think?

Of what?

So, I went on a tangent

And said

I think the sky looks better with that pinkish color

I think the heart is really an oval shape

I think wars were really fought with light-beams

I think the wind dancing forms the best beat

I think…

And before I was going to complete that answer

He looked at me

And said no

And his deep blue eyes

Glared right into me

And he said ‘ what do you think of love ?’

That was the moment, I found my answer

‘ I think, we don’t know what love is”

Hannah Ali

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Poet of the week: Mohamed Ahmed [Poet of The Streetz (P.o.s)]

Would you please introduce yourself to the readers?

Asalamu Caleykium, my name is Mohamed Ahmed Shiekh. I was born in Kismayo and no it's not in America.

I'm a huge fan of TNP. I reside in South Africa at the moment. I'm not familiar with interviews and stuff so sorry if my intro is not quiet professional.

When did you first start writing poetry and was there any particular incidents in your life that inspired you to write?

Well let me be honest, I didn't see it coming, I was never a fan of poetry, I only used to run into certain sayings.

I guess hip-hop played a major role. I wrote my first official piece in 2008 thanks to Ayan. The biggest incident that i remember was my grandmother running in the streets of Kismayo barefooted, she was trying to get a hold of me and my sister. It was a scary scene, the gun sounds and everything was horrible. That's the day I chose to be part of a generation that is willing to make a change.

What does "being creative" mean to you?

Freedom! Yes that's what being creative means to me. I mean God gave everyone some sort of powers to do things and creativity is surely the greatest freedom. My point is, you have the ability to create something negative or positive which is quiet amazing if you ask me. Having the ability to inspire someone is a priceless form of freedom.

What do you try to communicate with your poetry?

I communicate with myself and a team of dreams! When I come on TNP and start reading a poem from any of the writers I see myself thru it. Poetry means the world to me, it's a communication between my heart and mind, when my heart is about to give up (KNOCK KNOCK), there comes a little courage and hope from my mind through poetry and I just keep moving on.

What do you do when you go into a dry spell of some sort or how do you write another piece when you have been away from it for some time

Do you sit and think through every word of every stanza or do you just write freely and allow the words to flow?

It's a good question, well frankly, I just go on Youtube, listen to few tracks, reflect on the world e.g

How Somalia used to be. It also depends on the subject, I don't have to think of Somalia if my plan is to make a sister smile. I ran into a lot of people telling me 'Mohammed use the ancient words or make your words way stronger, you write your poetry in ''SIMPLE WORDS''. I honestly sit there and write whatever that comes to my mind. In other words, I let the words flow.

Who are some of your favorite poets?

Definintly Black Ice! The power and energy in his poetry is unbelievable also, he is not too mainstream. If you are a fan of Def Poetry then you know him well. Pablo Neruda is another one of my favorite poets.

What advice do you have for aspiring poets? Any word of advice for closet poets?

BE YOURSELF!!! Never let anyone dictate your vision, The power is yours. Poetry is a beautiful thing it's some sort of spiritual power, use it to heal not to hurt.

What does writing poetry do for you?

Writing poetry makes me feel like the superman that Somalia needs without the webs and the scary stuff

It's a wonderful feeling i have no words to answer this question.

Anything else you would like to share?

Everyone was born to Worship the Almighty God after that we are all given the ability to do things. Such as to move and touch things but when you depart people will remember not only your name but what you have left behind. Remain positive in order to meet greatness. The best weapon to use against those who envy you is success

Free

“ I am not home-less, I am home-free”- Collin

I focused on the word free

Pictured the creatures of liberation

unchaining the chains of freedom

As their, pure whiteness

Blinded the world

And their seeds of knowledge

Nurtured us

Seeds so sweet

Men fought over

So awed in their beauty

I observed

Drooled at the sight

Of large wings

Covered with the feathers of peace

Escaping the package of judgment

Drowned in the old picture

Of dirty clothes

Worn by the worthless

Laying on the edge of the street

waiting like Dirty clothes

On Sunday morning

And as they lowered

Their grace to the Earth

I went into my pockets

Pulled my hands filled

with bread

While, some accepted the offer

Others kindly refused

Telling me that

Enjoyment to them

Was living on Avenues

Where street lights became night lamps

And ears found comfortin the sound of honking cars

Realizing happiness

had multiple forms

Like the different bone structure

Of African women

I smiled.

“ I am not home-less, I am home-free”- Collin

Hannah Ali

Eid Mubarak

For the sacred month that we passing I'm going to miss you

For the angels that were guiding me nice to meet you

For the chained shaytans I'm going to avoid you

For the upcoming Eid I'm going to celebrate you

For the poor that ain't got no food for days I feel you

For y'all that gives charity may God bless you

For the all muslims around the globe salaam to you

For the beloved ppl around me including my family i Love you

For my parents may Allah grant you jannatul firdaws

For y'all who wanna wish me a blessed Eid

EID MUBARAK TO YOU TOO

Abdirisak Osman

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

I AM BLACK

I sat down today, and thought of what I am truly feeling,

I said I am black but I felt doubt

I said I am black but I did not say it out loud

I said I am black, but I did not have much fight in me

You know Black Panthers shit, I didn’t have much pride in me.

I said I am black but I feel out of place, and I guess it is because I am black. I feel as if I am from a dying race.Whenever I speak about being black, why do you get nervous? I try to explain myself but you tell me stop being aggressive and when I calm down I’m sorry am I being depressive… I don’t think you understand me.. I don’t think you ever will,

We are the kings and queens from empires and castles and clans

But to you we are the unknown, the lost souls, and the drifters of the western world. Far away from home

For those UNCLE TOMS and Bounty's who want to be of the other….

Take hold of your roots because you will never be another colour!

So take care of each other, and don’t sell out or kill your other brother!

I look at Malcolm and Martin and say your message did not reach us,

Your message that you gave to our community did not lead us. Rosa park, stayed down so we can have our head up, I am fed up of this political mess up!

How can we have faith in a dead system, with leaders and presidents with no hearts who give powers to men who are not from the struggle?

I shed a tear for those behind bars in courts at this moment, whose lives are in the hands of men who think they own it. I pray to GOD that we are forgiven and to those who are innocent justice is given..

On that note,

I am black, and I won’t be my own barrier

I am black and I won't be another statistic of failure

I am black, and I am aware that I have to put in more effort

I shall sweat, i shall bleed i shall suffer if i must so the next generation can walk calmly amongst others

Without worrying to be killed, harassed or abused, to be called names or to be treated any different due to the colour of their skin.

I am sorry Uncle TOM but when you walked and tried to please ‘the other’ you let your own people suffer. Instead of educating and helping them to rise, you got greedy and brain washed her, and that's when she became Miss bounty. You wanted to prove yourself but didn’t give a fuck about ‘the others’. You told her to look normal and acceptable and so she almost killed herself every night to try and look like them.

Black is beautiful, being you is just as normal, learn to be comfortable, it’s a shame that people are scared of being comfortable and they feel uncomfortable whenever their feeling comfortable.

Your brother realized just how messed up you become, and he realized that poor bounty isn’t so strong. He stood up and taught the people how it really should be, your brother Marcus Garvey set up businesses that the world would come and see! So many people where inspired by him…

Always remember that we are incredible and everything we do is unimaginable. We should let go of our fears and give into our vision,

Sofie Omar