A Hundred Dreams

They told me I'd have a hundred dreams and ninety nine would fade away.

That life is not what it seems and what is sure came yesterday

Tomorrow brings doubt and altogether the skies are grey.

So search for that silver lining that might give a shining ray

Lighting up your final dream showing you that it's here to stay

So I suggest you pray, for better days, may it come.

They told me Hope is enough for a young man to get by

And what is good in this world comes to those who try

A smile can only come after the tears have dried.

And even the earth finds happiness after the heavens cry.

So when in strife understand that tranquillity shall follow

True happiness is a gift and sadness is borrowed

Keenly await success and be grateful for the sorrow

For you will be richer for the journey come tomorrow.

They told me I’d have a hundred dreams and ninety nine would fade away

May this one dream comfort me in my moment of dismay

May I search for that silver lining that gives me a shining ray

Until I do I shall pray, for better days, may it come.

Mohamed Jamal Sirat

Copyright © 2013

Nightmares in the ogaden

In the night I toss and turn nightmares burn.... my heart yearns for my people... like a Rwanda sequel ...a horror movie i close my eyes and all i see is evil...i wake up my prayers sooth me. i pray for my land yes and truly...weary of the devils attempt to fool me for he fears that my prayers will be accepted... and the Ogaden will stop being neglected my people not scattered like beads on a table but collected...united... one heart one mind enlightened no more war and chaos no more children frightens the world suddenly aware like a dark room brightens.

i end my prayer and take a few steps outside as the first ray of sun hits me i feel alive but dead inside for like the hopeful mother to her unborn child i may not see my land but my hopes and worries bid me to cry for a while...if only my tears would turn into rain i would cry out the River Nile... and send it back home where food is scarce and crops hardly grow..... a war zone to the fullest... the children in the west have toys our kids play make believe with A.K47 bullets...

the contrast amazing...temperature like a fire blazing....a great divide....you either fail and die or your thirst to be the first is only quenched if you succeed to survive...sometimes i wonder if ogadeniya has a life of her own ..if true then does she not know that she is now barren and her children have no seeds to sow...does she not realize that the rain resents her and her trees refuse to grow....would she wallow in self pity and breakdown when she receives the news that her rival residing in the mountains is now crowned...is she not jealous of the fact that the sun tends to shine on her cousin and the moon prefers to glimmer on her sister and she is left in the dark...that the rest of the world is on the same boat and she is too frail to embark....

that she stands alone... like a wolf among dogs with no where to call home..exiled in the wilderness with no hope of food and water and the only mercy shown is by the stars that shine a dim light on this loner and evan they do not shine upon a path towards shelter.... does she not see that against all odds she will continue to cope...that at the end of this dark tunnel there is a light of hope...does she not know that i love her so...that she is a diamond so rare that she is my queen so fair..that one day..one day.. i will wake up from this night mare.

Mohamed Jamal Mohamed Sirat
Copyright ©2010

Please dont hate

Please don’t hate me for what I aspire what I desire what shall so be mine.
Don’t hate me for my charisma, my mystique, my ray of sun that through any cloud would shine.
Envy is like the angry bulls blunt horn, it may strike with it but it will only hurt the beast so.
But if it’s sharpened with success then that strike shall conceive a fatal blow.
I have no material wealth and yet their eyes follow my every step
some say I am blessed, that it has been passed from generation to generation
through out ancestral revelations when an African witch doctor through rocks on the soil,
he bore witness that all my enemies will tumble and their evil plans foil and all true believers
would be forever loyal to what I say.

Please don’t hate me, for what I have achieved I have achieved
through strife and struggle I made my bed my foe, and my blanket my Stranger yet those haters won’t know that with each two steps I take at least one I fumble, so what sets me apart from the wounded soldiers of life? Do I not feel pain like the rest? yes, probably more, the truth is when they lay there helplessly on the floor I get up and fight with my wounds even when I am over whelmed by the opposition, even when I have not support nor recognition, I take my gun and with precision I aim to beat time and fate. I need not debate...please... don’t hate.

I am not arrogant if you've seen me you'd know, I take this blessing and carry it as though it were a burden looking down instead of up and rejoicing for all the test ALLAH has allowed me to pass. I pray, give and I fast I am a slave I understand...but as far as slaves go I am the pebble that is clearly seen from the sand, when the wind blows heavily I stay firm when the sea tries to do harm I shall defie, and yet instead of love you stare with the greenest of eyes I assure you I do you no harm for peace is my state. I aim to inspire, to spark the flame for the darkened so please please....you know what goes next....


Mohamed Jamal Mohamed Sirat
Copyright ©2010

Beautiful Somali names for beautiful Somali women

Even though your mother named you sahan, suleekha, sucaad, sagalay, samiira
and your father graced you with dagan, dahaba,deeqa, ducaysanay, dinaar
and when you walk through the streets you hear, kaalay kaafiyaay, kalsoonay kuunta beelo
and they all think to themselves, tufaax weeyey tani allow yaa taabta
understand one thing canabay anaa hore kuu caashaqay

to your family you maybe known as naadiya, negi, nasra najmay, nuura
and your brothers know you as carafo, caafiya, cosob ceeblaay, cabeer,
while men who approach you try and seduce you with qaali, qamar, qiimo badan, qisooy qalanjo
and when you reject them you hear, nacaladan naagta ah ma ninkanay diiday?
know this naruuraay naftaydaad tahay

and you understand laylaay lacagta waxay tahay
that's why you stole to your lamborgini adoo laafyoonaya
dheeman labaatan kunna aad laabta ku sidato
and your lady like appearance brings light to our heritage
so when all the men pounce at you sidii libaax biciid helay
will you not learn ladanay your my one true love

and so your grand parent blessed you with hibo,hani hodanay,hanaan
and you have attained hannaay haybad iyo qurux combined
so who do i go to inaan hambalyada u diro
hooyo iyo aabo igu salaan waan ku hido raacayaaye

its true farxiyaay many women are not fans
they call you faasiqad, foolxumo, fakaloolay fariiso
they see you chase your dreams and that you choose to win
so when they say allow yaa jabiya ama jan ka tuura
juuq haa u dhihin jamaaday they just chat shit

and when you go to events ilhaanay with incredible style
looking illustriously natural while the rest of them illusions
hablaha ill xun kugu fiiriya innaba kuma gaaraane
enjoy it idilay you have impeccable taste

and my praise for you is never ending
that's why i point out certain scenes to prompt your memory
like when you walked into the party looking practically perfect with passion
and the dj stopped the music to grace your majesty
while you heard a mixture of voices mumbling MASHA ALLAH, MA'AHEE?, iyo MAANTAY INAGU DARNAYD
maalintaa macaanay maad i xasuusatay?

and so they describe you sagalay having syrian complexion
south American physic with Italian splendor
the sophistication of the french with a sort of serendipity
say to them SALMAAY SOOMALI BAAN AHAY

~ end ~


a tribute to the beautiful Somali girls.

Mohamed Jamal Mohamed (SIRAT)
Copyright ©2009a

the boy and the herd

This is just something i wrote in response to a debate i heard about the diffrent"lands" of the somali people. it seems that we will seperate to the extent that no man can stand the sight of his brother.


In the presence of kayos you can only be humbled by the affect

In the light of discussion heated words exchanged without regret

In the midst of the arid low lands of the somaal

From Europe passing Libya, Liberia and Senegal

In the African sunset a picture no painter can match the perfection

A herd of camels and a young boy with a wooden stick

Playing while camels graze seemingly not phased

No other land or herd or play ground he would pick

Draw closer and ask him the route Hargaysa

East from Jigjiga past laso canood he would wager

Ask him the way to Bosaso port

Go east to the beaches and look north

Out of interest ask him the distance between xamar and kismayo

He will reply a month’s walk then question waayo?

Ask him of the people who dwell in these lands

Seemingly 2 feet taller nose an inch to the north

Soft afro moving with the wind as if he is the wisest of all things

He exclaims this is the land of the Somali

Founded by a man here lives his children

We live in tribes and clans but united by blood honour and heritage

A Thousands years of tradition, we live with the land and we cherish it

Warriors, nomads and farmers

a land of poets us children shall inherit from our fathers

A Somali when ever in despair you see a hundred more there

Religion brings us our peace and our karma...

tears flows from you when you listen but your astonished by the absurdity

He then curiously asks if we have went to Adel and how goes the sultan

you ask who...he smiles...then grins...Breaks into laughter

And cries Axmad Gurey ofcourse

Undoubting his power and force he points his stick

And wonders if its his herd your after

Wondering back to the camels’ he turns to take another look

That picture alone you could draw in a thousand books

...we...are...one....

** ahmed gurey is a well known hero among the somalis yet lived a thousend years ago.
the boy represents the eternal spirit of hope among the somali. that after all that has happen a few still believe.

Mohamed Jamal Mohamed (SIRAT)
Copyright ©2009

a poem for salma my sister

This is truly among one of my favorite poem for it is such a beautiful tribute to someone very special.


Beautiful, intelligent, almost divine, they describe you with these humble words of mine
loved, respected, idolized, adored, these are your qualities that one cannot ignore.
You possess a smile that could inspire the sun to shine, and eyes that show you care
my sister the mere sight of your presence reminds me of the treasure missing in my life - dear mother.
You encompass all that qualities of a beautiful soul - making me thinking mother is still here.
You have the strenght of father and the beauty of mother - no doubt you are the best among us.
You're our rock, our leader, our comfort zone to answer each of our calls
we haven't forgot how you helped father tremendously
As he speaks of you a twinkle in his eye displays how proud you made him....Did you know that?
and we love you forever so much - Ramla, Shamarke and the babies too
Zack, Hodo and Mubarak, but MY daughter I name after you
QALANJO, QAALI, QIIMO BADANAY, to my people I only confide
the honor of our culture, the queen of our hearts as you bask in Somali pride
and though words cannot explain my love for you - I only pray people understand
That there is no women that comes to comparisons throughout our ancient lands
So my sister is a diamond precious yet unique
hard to find but they do not stop this diamond they will to seek
I will not blame you, but if lucky enough to find the diamond hidden away for years
I hope you know I will crush the fool that tries to bring my diamond to tears
for I will guard her as she did me years and year ago
she's in prays and in my heart this i hope she knows

To Salma from her brother.

Mohamed Jamal Mohamed (SIRAT)
Copyright ©2010

a poem for salma my sister

Beautiful, intelligent, almost divine, they describe you with these humble words of mine
loved, respected, idolized, adored, these are your qualities that one cannot ignore.
You possess a smile that could inspire the sun to shine, and eyes that show you care
my sister the mere sight of your presence reminds me of the treasure missing in my life - dear mother.
You encompass all that qualities of a beautiful soul - making me thinking mother is still here.
You have the strenght of father and the beauty of mother - no doubt you are the best among us.
You're our rock, our leader, our comfort zone to answer each of our calls
we haven't forgot how you helped father tremendously
As he speaks of you a twinkle in his eye displays how proud you made him....Did you know that?
and we love you forever so much - Ramla, Shamarke and the babies too
Zack, Hodo and Mubarak, but MY daughter I name after you
QALANJO, QAALI, QIIMO BADANAY, to my people I only confide
the honor of our culture, the queen of our hearts as you mask in Somali pride
and though words cannot explain my love for you - I only pray people understand
That there is no women that comes to comparisons throughout our ancient lands
So my sister is a diamond precious yet unique
hard to find but they do not stop this diamond they will to seek
I will not blame you, but if lucky enough to find the diamond hidden away for years
I hope you know I will crush the fool that tries to bring my diamond to tears
for I will guard her as she did me years and year ago
she's in prays and in my heart this i hope she knows

To Salma from her brother.

Mohamed Jamal Mohamed (SIRAT)
Copyright ©2010

Son of a Somali Lion (Dedicated to my dad)

I’m the son of a Somali lion,
regal in all appearance, loved and revered in equal measure, a position fit for a king.
His highness walks with nobility...his eyes though weary of life’s cruelty, as it was cruel enough to take his queen, they show a twinkle of joy whenever they spot the sight of his cubs.
He then smiles remembering her for a minute; before he gives a roar that reviles the roles of thunder in respect for the cherished memory of her majesty their mother.
I am the son of a Somali lion,
as the lion climbs the highest of rocks he glances upon the safari plains looking on to his kingdom, gazing upon the furthest of objects that the setting sun allows him to see whilst enjoying the gentle and calming breeze that brushes his imperial mane he thinks of what was, what is, and what is to become.
Understanding the cycle of life and that he must protect his pride like his father did and his father before him...
I’m the son of a Somali lion, I roar in accordance with the roar of my father
though my efforts are plausible i have yet to be heard from a mile away. While that of my father stretches from the Somali plains to the Serengeti.
I look, listen and learn yet with each step i grow closer to the throne i stop to wonder and question my abilities. Be that as it may, i know, like the celestial patterns that make up shapes of men and creatures that forever baffled astronomers, it is written in the stars.
so let me take my first step in climbing these rocks as my father did as did his, and let the wind brush through my mane, let the thunder be jealous of my roar, and let it reach the Serengeti.
and in taking my final step let me join my father and his father and his on the mountain above the safari looking on to our kingdom and at once roar a roar that silences the storms, shakes the African ground and proclaims what is to be true...we are here, we are lions....we are kings.


Mohamed Jamal Mohamed (SIRAT)
Copyright ©2010