Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Garissa Attack

Intense with emotions I feel the pain,
Tearful inside for the 147 students slain,
Mainstream media say they struck again,
Al-shabaab, what do I to my people explain,
That I am innocent, that I am just a Kenyan.
You struck while people were asleep,
How cowardly of you, how weak,
Now unfortunate, now I can't speak,
For people brand me names, all day I weep.
Garissa University, called for its closure,
No developments, no more Northern Frontier,
Sanctions, to other provinces no exposure,
Oh Lord! You alone knows what's best for us.
My tears will flow but will one day dry,
My heart will love but will one day die,
On A day my body will be lowered,
Into the grave, peacefully dead.
Spread the message, spread what I say,
Along the passage, tell what I see,
A land of blessings, no more deaths,
No more terrorists and no more Shabaabs.

By Hudhaifah Siyad

Friday, May 1, 2015


Dear Hadrawi,
If poetry should remain our propagule,
what is the language of Diaspora?
Teach us a poem of infinite translation.
Help us reach beyond our confines
like the wind that ripped us from the maple
and scattered us on winged samara
from Amsterdam to Oklahoma,
in the shadow of our Babel.
Written by: Samatar Elmi

Friday, April 10, 2015


Dearest Grandma,
Did you weave this with your aged hands,
Hoping to see me wed a man,
Before you left behind your land?
Did you wonder who I'd grow to be,
When you held the childhood picture of me,
As you sipped your frothy, sweetened tea?
Did you weep when you fell ill and knew,
That you would never make it to,
The day when I could visit you?
Last summer, my first in Africa,
At your grave, I stood by dear mama,
And marveled at her stamina.
Separated for countless days and years,
But still she held back all those tears,
To soothe my sorrow and quell my fears.
I'm grateful for such strong women,
Who inspire me to lift my pen,
To write the things I learned from them.
Fatima Andad
Copyright © 2014

"He Who Knew Me"

I have always thought that no one understands me
With all the good intention in the world at times my actions do not match
I still smile I still…smile even though my heart aches
I’m clothed in grief and I wear shame with pride
Although I appear human size I’m small like the floating atom
Neither here nor there, neither loved or loathed
I’m waiting I suppose for the one who knew me to return once more
His departure was most sudden and worse of all
With one word his voice would cover me in security and affection
I need to be told I’m uniquely rare
That I’m seen for what I really am
A light seer in the darkest of times
A hope believer even when the odds are against us up so high
I invite the one who will explore what’s behind the mask
The one who sees behind the shiny sculpted exterior
A saviour who will reveal my wounds not to mock them but to heal them
I still smile I still…hide
Words reach me like the rays of the sun beam into lifeless plants
Straight to the core of me without a gatekeeper of any kind
A weakness of mine, that’s has meant a shattered emotion many times
Alas I’ve come to the conclusion I am to be my one true friend
The one who whispers words of encouragement and does not pretend
I will seek solace from within and leave others to throw their lexical pins
Free I am of the shackles of societal ‘norms
I need I and others no more
I still smile I will always…poeticize
Written by: Nimo Yusuf

Sunday, February 22, 2015


Taste of blood
sound of an explosion
smell of a gun powder
a heritage that i carry on my shoulder

Mogadishu .... Mogadishu ... Mogadishu
that's my name
that's my heritage
two decades of pain
and life going in vain!

Today !
I stand in-front of you my ocean
do you still see the old me?
do you recognize my playful voice ?
my long dark hair and white dress
i bet you remember those eyes that hold you tight
in the gloomy nights !
i am the pearl of the ocean
the chanted African song !
begging him to recognize things i don't recognize in myself anymore

he left in silence 
wondering !
what infected your heart my child ?
when killing became a religion ?
when love became a crime ?
when death became a norm ?
when those holes in ur soul will heal ?!

Mogadishu .... Mogadishu ... Mogadishu
thats my name
thats my heritage
since the smile left my doorsteps
my face , my wall
since the misery left it stain
on my heart , on my soul
since the rain left my sky lonely
the thirst is a killer
and the sand has the tears of the helpless only !

Storyteller keep mesmerized with the old me
and if it gets tough
fabulation is the key
to keep the affection
keep the ocean
as i promise one day
i will be back with the smile of my children
with the love of every mother
with courage of every worrier

Mogadishu .... Mogadishu ... Mogadishu
is my name
that's how i stay alive !

Written by: Ismail A. Ali

Monday, February 9, 2015

I seek

The sun rose this morning and gave birth to another day
And with it, I arose again

Today I choose courage,
Or at least a courageous pretense
My eyes blink away all of yesterday's evil
I get out of bed and put on today's face
I lather a faux blush onto my cheeks
And wipe a fabricated smile onto my lips -
I am ready

The hate of last night will not defeat the love of this morning
I am a brave woman seeking joy between the cracks of society's despair
I seek reality, despite the mix of reality and falsehood I face as I look in the mirror
I seek love, true love, where a heartfelt smile warms the heart of a broken man
I seek acceptance, which when displayed, makes the loneliest of us feel belonging again
I seek the truth, amongst all the bitterness, envy and vengeance
I seek a smile, a true smile, found on the faces of those who know real hurt
I seek a higher place of resting, and a comforting hand not found on earth
I seek good friends, who love and laugh and question and cry
I seek a life full of tales to last a life time, and lessons to learn from after passing
I seek an understanding of fear and intolerance of hate

I seek a happy ending.
Even a caged bird never forgets to sing

Picture how the heavens teach the most beautiful of lessons, celestial movements have compromise and union in their every essence. The sun doesn’t hold on to the skies when it’s time for the moon to dazzle your eyes. Man’s ignorance is his only prison, when every word is laced with poison and thoughts of treason. Understanding oneself is long forgotten, replaced by addiction to the false illusions that they call freedom.

Insatiable hunger to feed the obsession with the dollar, thoughts contaminated, and basic human emotions intoxicated so we stagger to oblivion. Night and daydreaming, the scene keeps repeating, around me I see humanity frozen, in slumber deeper than animal hibernation. So every sunrise I am shovelling arctic snow, trying to ascertain the truth with me deep down and below. Equality and justice has no gender or skin tone, and those who truly desire it seek no throne.

I wonder if I could once again see this world through the eyes of a child, when everything was a wonderful reality and not memories retained in a mental file. Who knew all the while fear would become a tradition. Cowardice has us willing to accept lies, obey and listen, in school they precede me to worship a man made system. In university they asked me to take an oath and maintain the enslavement of the following generation. Capitalise on the warmth of your desires, let the lesser humans make up the coal for your fires.
We elect our tyrant masters by ticking a piece of paper, then turn around the next day bewildered by their behaviour. Only a fool would build a sand castle by the shore and ask the sea to respect its door. If all men are equal then why do I carry the weight of your wars and interest? Ask yourselves the fundamental questions; only death has no medicine, together we can withstand and push back the evils that they bring. Hope is eternal even a caged bird never forgets to sing.

Hamza M O Egal

Friday, January 16, 2015


I have heard the word “home” spoken around me 
more often than any other word in my lifetime;
heard it spoken thick with longing,
my mother’s tongue; slick with the accent of her ancestors,
her dialect still potent, fragrant; lingering. 

We are the sons and daughters of lands 
That will always be called “home,”
The children whose skin lays testament to a place
We may never have known,
Who in broken attempts at our mother tongues;
Still claim the lands that expelled us.

We are the in-betweeners -
Lost in a space between being and belonging;
The lingering roots of a tree pulled from its soil,
We are sired to ‘homes’ we have never been to,
Pained by memories we can never lay claim to;
More loyal to the ‘homes’ we have left
than the lands we have moved to;

We are here, but we are not.
We are here, but we are not.

Farah Gabdon

A Measured Life

Under the darkness of night I met the moon
Whose light dazzled upon my feet
Bringing to light the empty garden
With the shadows of a single tomato tree
Framed by the high walls like a precious painting
Long before the papaya tree
And the madness of the cotton plants in the garden
The birth and death of a tree
The absence or illumination of the moon
The screams under the cover of night
A woman, a man, a life, a death
A woman tonight
And I spewed my dinner on the cool concrete floor
As Hooyo ran to rescue the screaming stranger
And my father ran to rescue her
I was left watching the moonlight dance on my bare feet
Where my dinner now half lay
This is how I measure my life
Written by: Jamala Ali

Qolof diin diin

Diin dal qaladeed ku dayaamay
Dunida oo idil darbi ka dugsaday
Damacsan in uu ka duulo balse qolof ku daboolantahay
Dadkii difaaci lahaa oo diirka laga siibaayay
Dabbaal qowlkiisu uu doolar nogday
Qol yar maskaxdiisi ku soo qufulay
Qabyaalad qayaxani ay qalbiga ka qisaastay
Qawm dhan oo dawakhsan oo ay baddu qarqisay
Qabriga badda ayay ku qulqulayaane way ka qawmamayne
Qaadirka iyo qadarka ayaaney qiimayne oo way soo qalafanyihiine
Qolof dusha ma'ahee aan qiime kale lahayne
Maangaab magaalo iyo miskiin u miciyaystay
Maskax iyo maan toona aan lamaanayne
Musuq maasaq ayaan dunida meel koobaad ka galnaye.

By: Ahmed Suleiman

My night anthem

I hear voices in my head that says I am free 
I ask myself questions but I try to let it be 
Escaping is not an alternative so listen to me 
Why pressure my blood to the highest degree 
I mean, I studied science and got the best degree 
Why everything has to be complicated? 

In physics we studied about space as we calculated 
Teachers explained endless times until my ears got cursed 
Why explain about space when there is no where to breath
I live in an overpopulated city called Malmö, hard to get meth 
I live in a violent city where you get knocked by the police
The streets are crying for justice please allow me to sneezeAs a young I memorized a lot, From Coranic verses to fair tales from grandma and grandpaBut there is this one that poppes up in my mind every time I try to rhyme 

War goordir goodir dabahuwaa 
War laangaloole     dabahuwaa 
War mayla diiran    dabahuwaa 
Kula diiran maayo  dabahuwaa 
War bayla bayla     dabahuwaa 
War bayla Jaamac  dabahuwaa……
This could be my night anthem 

An inner voice taking me to Bethlehem 
I might be a fugitive but definitely not from Harlem 
The overwhelming dust making me invisible 
I come from culture where poetry is stable 
Children recite their own poems as a fable

See, endless poems is never liable 
What everybody recites is reliable 
Sure they deserve plenty of medals
It ain’t easy as collecting apples 
But hey:
Don’t you realize they are talented
I am not saying they title themselves but they are selected 
By people's choice they are elected
Somehow they are suspected without being reflected 
Talented is what they are,
You might wonder how they got protected 
Guess what, they are respected 
Anyways who said talk about them as an object
Objection: this leads to debate about how things can be sophisticated, confiscated 
Now, we are not talkin about land grabbing, 
We are talking about rapping, call it yawning, Jaaaw because I'm bouncing

Written by: Abdirisak Osman