I am

Note: Cute poem about a woman's identity....♥

I am:
A proud Muslim Somali woman
I am sister who strives for the well-beings of her siblings
I am my mother’s daughter
I am an aunt who adores her nephews
I am a future wife – who even though hasn’t met the one who will be my husband- prays for his well-being,
I am the future mother who will protect and hold her children to her heart
A mother who will love them unconditional and raise them to be good children
I am a human being- who hopes, prays and wishes for the best in this world and the hereafter….
I am a woman who strives to contribute to her society….
I am Fatima Ahmed….
And despite the ugliness of our worlds today – still sees the beautiful rays that make up our world….
I am a proud woman!
One love

Fatima Ahmed
Copyright © 2009

"N"

There's never been a letter as important as the "N"

Made of two angles, but yet so much depend
On its presence. The absence of which would amend
All of history, from the beginning to the end.

Imagine a Napoleon going to war with out the 'N'?
Or, perhaps even worse, an "N-less" Bertrand
Russell writing sloppy works thru his l...ife?
What about Niccolo Machiavelli's "The Prince'"?
Would it be known instead as "The Price"?!

I can only conceive of one positive virtue
In a world without an "N"
We wouldn't have to disagree or even argue
Whether it's 'Somali', or 'Somalian.'

Khalid M
Copyright © 2009

The word father

When I hear the word father many thoughts come to my mind
Like you, father
Like the way you let me down time and again
Like how you are selfish
Like how you didn't want me in this world….
like how you think I disappointed you, when it's you who disappointed and deserted me…
But guess what I can't hate the word father cause of you
Coz one day my younger brothers going to be fathers
My future kids are going to call their father, dear father….
For now father, let me say you are as much as forgiven as forgotten in my life.
Adios.


Fatima Ahmed
Copyright © 2009

DEEQA ♥

Isn't this just a beautiful poem?


How hard to be apart!
From a soul that I love!
Leaving me here and depart!
With all that meaning of love!

How touching to be afar!
Without the reach of a car!
From my dear wife Deeqa,
Like her are few in Somalia.

How bitter to be alone and sleep!
In the world of dream to weep!
Waving at a distant love!
In return leading to love!

In Khartoum, she was with me,
Comforting and caring me,
In London, I will be with her,
Osculating and admiring her.

It was October that we met,
In the bond of marriage net,
Smiling at me with love,
And awarding her with above.

Thy life is dear and mine,
And my heart is gift and thine,
I love you Deeqa, but thee!
That is an oath for you to see.

Look how gentle Deeqa is!
Attired in beauty she,
Ambulating in the shower of peace,
Slim and cute in building is she.

However dark at night,
Without view and sight,
I see her like a light,
In hue she is so bright.

Her love is in my blood!
In the bones and heart!
Streams deep in the marrow!
As she tasted and will know!

When all are still,
And the dawn is until,
I behold her in the sky,
With the love of my eye.

When she walks with me,
Like the ooze of an autumnal smell,
Or nectar of a bud in June to bee,
I inhale the aroma and smell.

So sweet so, so and so!
So sweet to see her again!
Sweeter to join her in life!
Sweetest to live with her in love.

Mohamed Abdikadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2009

I speaks Somali

Note: glossary at the bottom..

I’m not from Woqooyi or Bari,
Neither Koonfur nor Galbeed
My blood never knew slavery
So fuck what 50 Cent said
I’m not a ni99a…


I’m not a ganja-puffing Rasta
Even if I do braid my dreads
Neither will I be an anarchist
If I choose to shave my head

I don’t fit any label,
Other than my own.
So leave me alone,
And don’t throw me a bone
From the scraps on your table.

I’m not a lost cause whose history was uprooted
And don’t you ever even think I’m self-deluded.
Coz I know what I am, who I am…
And that’s me.
A mother-fucking Somali..
Skinny as fuck,
Got a swagger that I strut.
King of my city I put on for, but it aint Harlem,
Brooklyn, ATL, or any of those whatcha-ma-callem..
Xamar’s the name, can you say it? ‘Xa’ as in

I speaks Somali like Eminem rhymes English

Perfect time and flow, go fast go slow
Rollercoaster, go up high then drop you low
Feel the rhythm, baby? I call it “spine-tinglish”

Check it out:

“ Sawt-kaan aqaanaa soomali weeyoo
Sinjigayga dhalashadu soomali weeyoo
Samayskayga aadame soomali weeyoo
Ruuxaan salaamaa soomali weeyoo
Sad waxaan la quutaa soomali weeyoo
Saaxiib waxaan nahay soomali weeyoo
Gogoshaan ku seexdaa soomali weeyoo
Cagta meeshaan saaraa soomali weeyoo
Jirka meesha la isaro soomali weeyoo
Somali baan ahey, sarrif kuma galaayoo”

- Abwaan Jaamac Kediye Cilmi


Woqooyi, Bari, Koonfur and Galbeed are the Somali cardinal directions (North, East, South, and West, respectively).
That last verse is borrowed from a Somali poet.. he's basically expressing all the various ways he reps Somalia.. from his voice, to his birth certificate, his physical features, the people he hangs out with, the bed he sleeps on, the ground he walks on, and even the blood he bleeds is pure Somali.


Khalid M
Copyright © 2009

LOST NATION'S LOSS!

Editor's note: In the memory of those who lost their lives on 12/03. May Allah Ta'aal grant them all jannahs, and hold accountable those who live to brutalize the lives of innocent people.


What a terrible scene!
Lost nation's loss!
Catastrophe was what I've seen!
Heinous terrorist was the cause!

How painful to see such a tragedy!
While the country is in disasters!
Due to lack of national dignity!
As a result of brutal leaders!

The culled cadres were doctors!
With their students and nation!
As well as high calibre professors!
Clapping for the graduation!

Oh the decapitated intellectuals!
In sorrow I mourn over your death!
In anguish I attend your funeral!
In throes I am in the heath!

Every patriotic heart is broken!
By the bad news of your fall!
Through it the wound is broaden!
All in one and one with all but all!

To the people you were light!
Fighting against ignorance!
In doing that you were right!
May God reward you with acceptance!

Impossible to the sense of civilisation!
And acceptable to the heart of the notorious killers!
Those are maiming peace under the pretext of religion!
With the meaningless aim of blackmail and collusion!

If Hamblin Garland wrote "Under the lion's paw",
I am writing to the world that Somalia is under the terrorist's jaw!
That is ague to our global stability and law!
And cutting the heads of innocent mothers with their cruel jigsaw!

Be alert my dear and dear civilians!
And protest against terrorism!
Because of it we lost noted politicians!
It is real worse than tribalism!

Tilt not your heads!
In fear of the novel!
Fold not your hands!
Do the best of your level!

Can we relinquish our pride to the culprits?!
Waiting for them to finish us in our home!
No them to vanquish us with bomb!
That is shame on us to the boom!

Mohamed Abdikadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2009

Time

I cheated death
As many times as I cheated on my math homework.
And I cheated on you
Not being aware that I was cheating on me.

Growing up
I lied so boldly to my mothers face
Time and time again.
Yet so naively you believed my words
On how I despised liars.

I talked the talk that you talking.
And I walked more than a mile
In the shoes you're wearing.

This time you F**ed up!
And that time I F**ed up!

I loved you, and you hated me.
And I hated you, and you loved me.
Time and time again, I am somewhere between
Loving you and hating you again.

Still,
I love once.
I love hard.
Yet when it's over, I never look back.

You're backward, while I continue moving forward.
I can't stop time.
I can't hold it still.
Nor can I rewind it.

Watching you now,
Is like watching me then.
Unstoppable.
Untouchable.
Unshakeable.

I guess everyone has their time.
I just hope you still have time.
Because time is the one thing I can't give you.
For time isn't mine to give.

Hayat Magan a.k.a Twisted Elegance

Copyright © 2009

We are in the news!!

Here is an article about Somalia-TNP!!

http://wardheernews.com/Articles_09/Dec/02_poets_halimo.html

Thank you Wardheernews!

Somalia- The Nation of Poets {Group poem 1}

Editor's note: This is our first group poem. The purpose of this "group poem" is to encourage people to write biweekly about a certain theme in few sentences. This was our first experiment, and as you can see it flows really well, although the poets did not know about each others verses. I thank Ismail for starting it off so well, and zana and Idil for holding it together so beautiful.


Somalia - TNP unites us in scripture
We all can paint a perfect picture
Like a mirror it helps us reflect
Bringing forth our greater intellect
Somalia TNP is vital , just like an umbilical cord
Convincing us that the pen is mightier then the sword
By Ismail Mohamed

With the pen, I write with fire and flames
Words like glowing passion
Heat flowing through the paper
Aphrodisiac in my pen
I embrace you in lust
The feeling is indescribable
You feel the desire and yearn for it
Like a drug I set up word that is poisoning you
Words to the effect of causing an end.
Zana Haji Hashi

And, to what seems like the end, it all started when the rules were bending.
And down deep the burial ground of the people aren’t buried well.
Our heroes took their lives to mend things for our wealth.
Playing tricks were the reasoning for such pain.
And that gun shots sadly are used for being heard.
And singing birds aren’t recognized at all and seeing green and true beauty of nature, seems like our mind and imagination is playing games.
But remember it won’t and that it can’t be the end now.
Keeping in faith seems too hard to keep a grip holding tight and holding tears, seems so hard to not break at all.
Idil Ahmed Mahamed

But, Somalia is the unbreakable nation for it is all about:
Our land, our pride, our home,
Our poems, our literature, our arts,
Our beauty, our culture, our nomadic traditions,
Our families, our values, our religion.
We are the land of poets,
The land that still persists,
The land that still prevails,
And the land that still yearns for peace,
For peace will surely knock at our doorsteps, saying “Honey, I am home”
We are the poets, of today and tomorrow.
Somalia- The Nation of poets
aims to protect this tradition,
celebrate it with the world,
and inspire the youth to remember,
remember that our adults communicated
through poetic verses with golden glints.
And we aim to celebrate and embrace that!
Somalia ha noolato. Halima Ali Ahmed

Copyright ©2009

Remorse

Running
Slowing down
Trying to catch my breath
What have I done?
Checking around me
Dark
A sound
What was that?
Who is it?
Come out
No response
Continues to go
To the road end
Must get there
Can’t come back
What have I done
Forced
No choice
Feeling
Why this suffering
Pain
I want forgiveness
But how
My faith is gone
Or?
Continues to go
Thoughts

I Stop
Looking up
Stars
Thousands
The beautiful black sky
Wet feeling
My hand on my cheek
Tears?
.......
It burns
Is there remorse?
Remorse of tears?
Yes?
No?
There must be regret
Want this no more
I want to be free
Trying to run again
It hurts
I can no longer
My remorse is much
Slowing down
I breathe heavily
Stops

Falling down on my knees
Slowly
My hands stretched forward

Oh Allah
My true self
Face remorse
Oh Allah
I regret
Show me the way
Oh Allah
I am alone
Want guidance
Oh Allah
The almighty
Oh Allah
Forgive me

Zana H Hashi
Copyright © 2009

1960: Kun Sagaal Boqol iyo Lixdankii

1960, we got liberation
2009, we have no nation
I said, 1960, we earned our freedom
2009, we are dying and bleeding
1960, Somalia was rising
2009, we are barely surviving
1960, we were the center for commerce
But 2009, we are the nucleus of a curse
1960, we escaped oppression and hate
2009, we are oppressing and hating our own state
1960, our nation was born
But 2009, our nation is torn.

Isn’t it sad that in 1960 we were one
And in 2009, we are none?
In 19SIXTY, we had a fruitful country
Instead 2009, beneath the surface of a great civilization
Laid dreams of material aspirations
That turned into anger and frustration between
People of one nation, one creed of Islamic denomination
We are dying of starvation and manipulation that can be
Controlled but we are told the opposite, wrapped away and tossed in
A black hole.

In 2009, we are in that black hole of hunger, a cold-blooded
Massacre with innocent civilians who have no answer to their situation instead Raise their head to the sky and pray to the Almighty High to take away this cancer. This cancer turned us into a devastation like a hurricane that left a trail Of disaster that we can no longer inhale.

1960 was the birth of our nation
2009 we want a nation
And now its up to us to reseed a revolution
Side by side, hand in hand to fight this self-destruction
To become that great dynasty once more
JUST LIKE BEFORE, IN 1960.

Sahra Bashir
Copyright © 2009

Silence is what they preferred us to be!!!

Silence is the truth that won’t come out; living in a lie the truth won’t speak out
Within my eyes they are silent
Within my mouth the words blocked out
The words are ignored; silence is what they prefer it to be
And when we say we believe in God, it’s like it was never heard
When the lie is spoken out, clearly our words, opinions are hidden in this secret box

Silence is what they prefer it to be, for us to cry at night with no sound,
to act like we have no desire to be heard but silence is what they prefer us to be.
And they want us to take the quite bullet to take our life,
silence of death is what many of the ummah take,
making a silent pray I haven’t heard a Imam recite the prayer for awhile,
and to think it was a silent kidnapping,
and to his choice that he knew than he had nothing to lose,
but although it wasn’t heard on the news, silence is what they prefer it to be.

Pain is what my Somali people have gain, never have they felt the love to the heart and to this generation they have learnt to hate, seeing now history to repeat again, and our elders before kept it to themselves they knew the sorrow war of the future was to come, but silence is what they preferred it to be, for their selfish need.

Tears of the people dried out wiped out, the drop of a fall must be as quite then a tear drop falling, many lives died out, yet we are to keep it hushed, silence is what they want us to be, seeing my people die with the hope they are looking for, is taking away from them, wishing they kept it strong in faith with Allah (swt).

And the hardest times are to come soon, surely we have all known,
to keep it quite kindly speak out to every believer
remembering our voices are heard from a wire,
from a far, surely now it would be wiser to be speaking in a riddle,
they all know, but silence is what I’ll choose to not be,
and until I’ll scream and say it clear,
to win all for justice we were promised victory ,
and may it be, that day is soon to come,
but they choose to not believe, keeping it silence is what they want it to be.

Forced down with the invisible duck tape, having what I believe label on my forehead, and to the truth would be silence, until the truth would be spoken out, layered out for many people to read the true words of Allah is what they will see, but yet again this is to come, my words are shut down, silence is what they preferred us to be. In sorrow and misery silence is what we will be for the time being. Silence is what they preferred us to be.

Idil Ahmed Mahamed
Copyright © 2009

She is a woman from Somalia

She is a woman from Somalia,
And she is the guardian of our hopes
And a symbol of our struggle.

Nestled in the heart of the Horn of Africa,
She walks over the savannah with her child in one hand
And in the other a costly water container almost filled to the brim.

She searches the countryside for signs of danger.
She knows that if she faced a patrol the chances of being raped, beaten and even killed are high.
Despite this understanding, the child must eat and drink and so she goes,
Driven by the undeniable love of a mother to her child.
She has suffered much, her home has been reduced to ashes,
Members of her family have been killed
She has been hungry just so her child can eat.

“ Will she once again live through what was in the past? Will the child grow up, even if it just experience the same fear when she collects firewood and fetching water with a child of his own years from now? The mother can only pray. “

Tomorrow she will go and fetch water again.
She will do this despite the dangers she faced.
She tells herself that it is a matter of survival, but deep down she knows that there is more than that.
It is her own personal distrust of those who have brought so much misery to her country and its people. She will not be a prisoner in her own country.

That night, when the baby is asleep,
she slowly recite a poem of defiance.
The same poem her mother read to her years ago.
It is a poem recited by mothers to their children all over Somalia.
It is a poem that conveys messages of struggle.

She is a woman from Somalia, and she is the guardian of our hopes and a symbol of our struggle.

Zana H Hashi
Copyright © 2009

A woman called Mother

Mother, A person that has a great significance in our hearts

Mamma, A person which must not be taken for granted

Madre, A person who led us in nine months and brought us to light through pain

Hooyo, A person who has given us her time

Ma, A person who has dried up our tears when we become sad

Mami, A person who can take us through lonely nights

Maman, A person who guided us to the bright side

Mor, A person who stood out with us in the worst

Mamá, A person we love most


We must not forget our mothers. They are the most valuable we have in our lives. She blessed us both with the gift of life with help of Allah she brought you in this world. Without her we would not be here on this earth. Without her you would not be the person you are today.
What we should beware of is to not break her heart. To hear one's mother to say you're not my child no longer is something that we really should not experience.

Think about those who do not have the same luck as us. For every day I thank Allah for my mother. But at the same time I give some thought to the motherless. They have no opportunity to experience a mother's love, they have no opportunity to be cared for, they have no opportunity to say I love you mom,,,,for them I shed a tear and pray for them a good life

I would now like to ask you a favor. A service that should be done every day. Go to your mom, take her hand, look deeply into her eyes. You will see a strong woman who stood behind you through thick and thin and will continue to do it. A woman who is the main woman in your life, a woman who makes you cry, laugh, happy, angry and worried. A woman you look up to, a woman you will never ever drop.

Shape these words from your lips and let the sounds of the heart pass them as you say...I love you



Zana H Hashi
Copyright © 2009

Silent Cry

we as Somalis need to stand up speak up for our brothers and sisters who suffering under the Ethiopian regime because they only have us to speak for them.



Trees offer shade no more, houses offer shelter no more and mothers can offer comfort no more
The unpitying heat scorching the feet of the orphan child as he searches for his parents and from burns his body all sore
He stands dazed and confused without his parents; now sorry for all the times he ignored his mother’s calls
Only the ground knows the pain of his tears and his cries upon deaf ears they fall.
The wild he wonders too young to understand why his village went up flames
A malevolent regime ruthless and relentless in its pursuit of taking innocent lives is to blame
This is the orphan child’s silent cry

The mother sheds tears of blood under a crimson sky
She raises her hands and supplicates to ALLAH the most high
She asks for the cool breeze of peace so that her heart might one day be at ease
Remembering the day, they came to ask her to take the life of her last child
and how on that day she too died on the inside
Everyday is a struggle to survive and her will to live she must at each dawn revive
Wondering why her people have left her, while death and destruction want to own her
This is the mother's silent cry

The young woman was once a symbol of purity and pride
Now her honour lays tarnished, tossed away in dirt
Savages took it away now she often contemplates life’s worth
She asks herself, to the enemy’s child how will I give birth?
She was once a strong Somali woman but at present, she is just a broken woman battered by a sequence of atrocious events that are beyond her control
Yet those who have the power are deaf to her cries and in her suffering, they play a great role
This is the young woman’s silent cry


Tears and blood water this land
Orphans dying of starvation moan “have mercy o mankind”
A mother gasps for air as the bullet pierces the heart of her last child
Men are seen as savage beasts and therefore must be killed
A land under many dark clouds of oppression
But many men have chosen to stand tall and to free it is their only mission
Striving with their hearts and souls to rid the people of this murderous plague
Oppressors sit in offices while they should be stood at The Hague
Victory will come sweet for some while others shall feel its heat
Murderers through justice shall taste defeat
They say the pen is mightier than the sword
We fight on with the courage of great words
We will not be silenced, for eyes and ears have been sealed for too long
The voice of voiceless will be heard clearer than any song
This is our not so silent cry

Asha Ali

Copyright © 2009

Element of success..

The mind is else where while the soul is in search of deeper purpose of such things that do not have any means to life, yet we continue to dwell on the minute purposeless issues. Instead of fantasying your dreams and searching a deeper meaning of such things that do not have any purposes yet we continue to engage in unnecessary fantasy which do not bring happiness in ones life but merely makes them eager for more.

For one to achieve and make their dreams to reality they will go through all kinds of hardship. One will encounter many barriers to which we ought to overcome, Life will throw all kinds of weapon to destroy your abilities, be wise in your thoughts. Do not search an empty box when you know there wasn’t anything in the first place.

Be wise of dreams as dreams divide in to two kinds, where one is attainable, but other only remains to surface yet we can not reach or grasp.

To be amongst the greatest, learn to establish yourself, be a voice not an echo and make something of your own and adore it, it is worth for your hardship. Be grateful to what today has given you, rather than to dwell on all that’s wrong, be more desirable to what tomorrow will give. Never forget what you were before this day. we spend time thinking about what we could have, when we show little appreciation and gratitude for what we already have …

Ahmeddeey Maba Shiixaayo

Copyright © 2009

Malika

See Malika was close to her religion
She wanted to be a pediatrician
But her friends had a different intuition
They wanted limitless attention

But Malika understood
that her friends were no good
Unlike them she didn’t blame the hood


For her current condition
Always cooking in the kitchen
Always washing the dishes
Her friends told her they were fulfilling their wishes


And they loved it
Malika wasn’t it with it
She knew this was forbidden
Her body she kept hidden

She didn’t want to be an object
She'd rather be a reject

Malika was only 19
But already a Somalian queen
All the things shed seen
She knew the streets were mean
That they didn’t leave a single girl clean

And she knew she would never give in
In the end she would win
She was almost free from sin

Always reminding herself that this life was a test
And the only thing that matters is how your heart is ,beating in your chest
One of her friends suffered cardiac arrest

U could tell by the way she dressed
While she progressed
Her friends fell far in the mess
So much stress
Leadin a double life more or less

They fell for all the bullshit
And all the guys they ran with
They were like a peace of meat
Replaceable, just like a dirty bed sheet

But from Malika they couldn’t get a taste
And because of this their time they didn’t waste
Cuz they all new Malika was pure and chaste


Her worldy desires she was fighting with her all
She was standing tall
While constantly witnessing others around her fall..



THIS IS FOR ALL MY SISTERS STAYING STRONG IN THESE HARD TIMES ! !
Note: Malika means Queen in Arabic



Ismail Mohamed '' Aka Ismaciil Boqorka Bosaso''
Copyright © 2009

Forever More

Lost in a realm of pain
Lost with nothing to gain
Unsure what will happen
Will the gate ever open

As my mind told me no,
My heart said it was ok
I knew you loved me
Or so you say ?

You got to me
The way no one else could
I let you see me
Like no other should

You stole my heart
Right from my chest
And broke in two
And put me through something no one could guess

Sand below and grey around
Rain falls to the ground
Yet the sky is dry
I just wonder why

A trust that was broke
Now where does it go
Dropped to my knee
What happened to me

Giving in to you
Unsure what to do
Pieces fall to the floor
Broken
I reach for your hand
But all I find is sand


An angel I thought you were
Now I am unsure
The pain I have found
Shatters my heart across the ground

Is there such a thing called trust
Or does is blow away like the dust

Did I give in again
Did I lose it within

You said you loved me
That you would never hurt me
Staring down the barrel of gun
Trigger pulls and all undone
Endless pain
Wondering if it is true….

Even though I’m smiling
I'm breaking down inside
I'll laugh the tears away
so the pain I can hide

I'll get over you
but it will take awhile
And the next time I see you
I'll pretend to smile


Zana H Hashi
Copyright © 2009

If I could forget

If I Could Only Forget The Rapped Somali Innocent Girls,
The Pain In My Heart Could Have Gone.
If I Only Couldn't Remember The Dead Bodies,
I Couldn't Have Nightmares,
If I Could Tell The Murders,
So Many Innocent Could Have Been Saved
,If I Could Live In Peace,
I Could Have Protected My Neighbors,
If I Only Could Spread... Anti War Awareness,
There Could Have Been A Change
,Time Passes By,
But The Fear Still Lives In Me
I Lost Patience With Those to whom Only Money Matters,
To Them I Only Need A Community That Have One thing In Common( Somalis)

Ahmed Abdi (Seattle)

Copyright © 2009

Five Little Girls

Five Little Girls

I wish that I could tell you more than simply what’s being said
That the onslaught turned itself around when the mortars heard you didn’t make it;
that everything ceased;
That somehow they left a tear in the midst of all the confusion cultivated decimation yet christened retribution
That serenity was left to boys and girls like you
But explosives don’t harbor souls like they cart destruction and
today I’d be lying to you if I said I thought humans are any different
I can’t sum up the courage it takes to be a liar
I won’t cosign or bolster one sidedness
Nor entice you with an apology to your family;
these never suffice.
Or passively pontificate about life after babies born into, now buried along rocketed dilapidations
…Kids who used to cling to swings, musallahs, and schools
And maybe even salvation
I can not sweep it over
Not today;
No, today I can’t be man
And I am not even sure I’m to apologize for man anymore
what I can report is that you are not alone
you are not abandoned
but truth be told I am just as much your loneliness
as I am your perpetrator
I did not fire this rocket nor muffle your sister’s and brother’s screams
simply ask why it took five of you to bring me here
and you will see that I am no innocent,
there is no nobility to be found

What shakes a man from apathy;
Teaches him to crawl again?
Is there any justification for a soul with no reason when you were given full purpose, or shall I take my 99 deaths in your stead?

If they handed me the gun would that make my search any more sanctified?
Justify my own sins?
Could the poorness of my spirit be shooed away clean with the remnants of a richer Palestine?
Tell me if this is what my shoulders should bear
as I look to you for lessons neverminded in academia;
it is today that I am learned of your blamelessness
and weary of the damage wrought on by ego
today I’m scholared in the ritual of remorse, fervor, and passion
Today, I want to cry out that I appreciate with subtle indulgence
that the succulence in freedom is conceived on the embrace of Khadijah
The caress of Halimah,
The trust of Aishah
And the innocence of five little girls…

Democracy is more than legality; it is a shared sentiment
And love is more than an emotion, it is a capacity;
Without that capability we too lie in wait for rescue
under the rubble of broken understanding and archetypal contemplation

If they handed me the camera would that numb the coldness of the bullet?
Stave the direction of chastisement?
Am I now the illustration of your collateral damage?
What would make me prouder than to one day stand in front of you all
with the response to this testimony!!!

No you are not alone young tender…
I am no man…
Only the resilience of a child
The blossoms of a future’s rose
The echoes in the myriads of grace and patience
The remembrance of the beginning
Retribution’s first opera
And the smile and applause at the end
All I ask is that one day you share your front door
With the withered souls
Who are still not safe from the reign’s rain.
They need the home you covet
where silence is a measure of faith and ended dread
And I need daughters and sons to name in your wake;
in exchange…

I should change dear Tahrir,
Or mire me in shades of blood and cinder ash;
I want change brave Ikram,
Or drown me in fear and absence’s suggestions;
I can change sweet Samur,
Or leave my affections for a witch’s heart;
I will change precious Dina,
Or share with me a supplication’s suffocation;
I am change beautiful Ayah,
Or bury me under the footsteps you never intended to give away.

And Allah Knows Best!!!

-Leftist
Copyright ©2008

And with my eyes I blind you!!

Just when I felt sorry for you, when I blamed myself for everything
I hope you know from a far I’m haunting you sending you the worst pain
When I had no answers? But I always yet always fell for your lies
I hope you know the pain my heart is connected with you that you can’t breath

Words can’t describe my hate so I hope I’m able to make you feel it so you can understand this twist
My riddle isn’t at all hard to pick up on, wishing you woken up long ago
But now that I couldn’t careless that I don’t need you but before I needed you so

When you feel like you’re hitting the ground this unbearable pain I hope you’re screaming and calling my name and the one who sends the pain says the regards are from me.

Even though I’m close to becoming you, even though I don’t want to, but I hate you.
So I’m bound to kill you with my words, my heart is carrying burning fire and you sweat with the guilt feeling the heat.

Is it too late to tell you to wake up, seeing as though you’re pretty useless for any human being?
From every scar I have I know you cursed me from the day I was born, and now that karma is sure is a bitch feel free to have every single cut on your body.

I will go somewhere in life and you can’t stop me, I will become a something and help you and your family, you won’t be the loved ones that I help but the sake of Allah I’ll gladly help the charity.
Many secrets that I learned this year and to another fact I’ll never believe you again, do I look stupid to you? I’m not your child you can’t even do your job right.

This isn’t a chain letter where you should share this letter, be careful now you don’t want anyone else to know you gave such heart ache to one or too many.
With my killer words I shall write it may they appear on your skin, reading for word for word, Hello there it’s me.

Even this is what I wish to happen but this is the Devils words maybe mines because I’m so angry but I don’t know how long It would take to forgive you, and I think now I should otherwise I’ll be just like you, Allhumduallah I don’t need you because surprisingly you need me.

But at the mean time you’re feeling my pain and that it should be eating you away,
the message that you would get from the sender says the regards are from me,
knowing you understand this twist picking up with the riddle of my words, surely you should have known “with my eyes I’m blinding you”.

Idil Ahmed Mahamed

Copyright ©2008

Dedication To The Women We Love...

I would like to take this very moment to thank you for all that you have done for me. I’m sincerely grateful to you with all my heart; you have truly been an inspiration to me.

You always spoke politely with words that were inspiration
I didn’t believe in myself that I could achieve all that I have desired for in life, sometimes I thought dreams were fantasies. You came along like wisdom into my life. You taught me to be amongst the greatest is to believe within yourself. I believed people like me never would be in good position in life. You truly believed in me and gave me an opportunity to establish myself.

You have this magical affect that motives me……

Here’s my dedication to you....

"I make Allah my witness that I do love you for the sake of Allah."

To The Woman I Adore, and Love...
The absence of your love is like missing a heartbeat,
Your love I treasure, adore, the woman I love,
A great source of inspiration you have been.
You have been a great blessing to me, may Allah be pleased with you.

Whenever I think of the epitome of a black queen, you are the first on my mind,
How do I say I love you, when my heart beats for you,
My love for you is unconditional, you comfort my heart.
Amazingly beautiful you are, I deeply love you.

You were the only one who had my heart when I was infant,
Your love is beyond love itself,
You are a secret treasure I adore within my heart.
A love like yours could never be measured,
I am ever grateful to receive such kind of love,
I always wondered how forever felt with you I find that feeling of forever.

You tough me the values of love and deeper affection,
And to be a great lover of the heart,
Explaining your love is unconditional...

That person is you Mother...

You struggled in every way possible raising us.
I recall the more struggles we faced, the more we were together as family,
Some conditions were just indescribable.
But yet a moment of joy was the feeling of a lifetime...

"O my Lord give mercy to my parents the way they gave mercy to me when I was a child."

This is a dedication to all the beloved mothers out there, and is a symbol of kindness towards our mothers and showing our affection of love to them. Even though some mothers won’t be able to read the English Language, but inshAllah may Allah accept our appreciation towards our mothers for he only knows what’s in our hearts...

Ahmeddeey Maba Shiixaayo

Copyright ©2009

me vs ME

Then life was for

Chilling,

Clubbing,

Partying and hanging out

Life then was all about the MOMENT

Happiness was to be exclusively acquired for NOW

Who knew tomorrow would come

Life was much or less like a drug then

The rush and excitement of few minutes

Overshadowed the importance of life..

Then my life was a small “me” that was

Confided in a small

Miniature me!

A me that was far for being the REAL me!


Today’s ME however has survived the miniature me

Of the past

Today’s ME is much more stronger

Confident

And happier then the me of the past

The ME today is contended with life

With Allah Ta’aal

With the mistakes of the past

And with the ME within the ME

The ME of today, unlike the me of the past, can stare in the mirror for long time

Without any guilty of ugly soul

The ME of today loves the ME of today

This ME understands the immortal being

And that our abode is not this earth

The ME today knows that we don’t live for mini moments,

Like miniatures do,

But we make moments,

Gigantic moments,

To last us a memory of life time

as the Prophet peace be upon him said

'Behave in your earthly life as if you were to live eternally;

and in your life in the Hereafter as if you were to die tomorrow.

This is the real ME!


Halima Ahmed

Copyright ©2009

What will you take...

If you don't take my heart
Then what will you take?
What will you break?
If you don't speak my mind
Then what will I find?
Only that I'm left behind
Tell me,what I tell you
So I can feel the way you do
Words come easily
But speech fail me
Right words to be chose
Love sentiments come to a close
Another love sculpture to mold
Into a fine piece of art,neither silver nor gold.
But in stone clay.
One which floats,where waters turn from blue to gray.
A floating love stone,
That glides the rough waters when gently thrown.
Then sinks to the bottom where waters ran still.
Like your emotions that you conceal.
You hide what you feel.
I seek,what I will.
And if there are written,
I will find where there are hidden.

Nada Mohamed
Copyright ©2008

Crying Tears

When you realise Allah’s blessings are upon you, your soul will be filled with gratefulness to the almighty Allah.

There are something’s in life that we do not want to let go. A great example of this is when we lose someone whom we cherish and hold close to our hearts; we easily break down and cry, for our weakness suddenly takes control of our emotions. But this pain is unconditional, indescribable, and is unable to mend and you start to witnesses that your heart is able break apart emotionally.

Sometimes we try to run away from the truth, only to realise that it still exists when you’ve overcome your grief. And, yes we still may not want to believe it, and you could say yes “I don’t want to believe it because the pain is unbearable.”

At times we lose our own conscious and our hope and as a result we forget what we living for because it is no longer worth fighting for. Everything matters less; because emotions overtake you thus you no longer are at the right state of mind as everything started losing meaning.

Allah, most merciful and most kind will take out one thing from your life only to give room to something else that is more beneficiary to your life.


God only allows something’s in life only to see if you would eventually mend or break apart, and you break easily, this could cause you to lose any faith you’ve ever had for you would let the pain get in the way of a brighter day yet to come.

Let me share something with you...
Everything that is good doesn’t have a price tag on it, nor is it made of gold, because it can easily be owned by you, there is a famous quote “best things in life are free”. Yes the simple things in life are free, but this means that you need to trade your self-esteem, your pride and most treasured possession in order for this to be yours. For no amount of money measure up to your inner peace and the beauty that over shines on you.

"We are writing our life’s in pen and unfortunately can’t erase the mistakes we make so it’s another lesson learnt."

Ahmeddey Hassan
Copyright © 2009

Unknown Poem

1400 years ago you were established
With your arrival all form of hesitation vanished
But today you are battered and bruised
For all the killings it is you they have accused
Your pure name they verbally have abused
Just yesterday I saw you in the news
They said they had found another scandal and were handing out clues

Claiming that you're always the violent one
Label you a fundamentalist, because in the face of oppression you refuse to be the silent one
But you didn’t invent the sword nor the gun
And that you are old and to extreme
Always planning a fowl scheme
So that they can dirty up your name
After 9/11 it was clear, you were to blame
London, Madrid and it was slowly turning in to a guessing game.

The world started to look dreary
Nobody wanted to open there eyes and see it clearly
That when the towers got hit
Aint nobody said shit
About the 4000 Jews
That were at home watching the news
That should've been working as well
When the towers crumbled and fell
Israel got America under a spell
Falsehood is slowly crawling out of its shell..

But what if they would see your true colors
That you are so much different from others
You surely are rare and unique
You hate those who oppress the weak
And you purify human behaviour
You came to us as a clear saviour
You honour those who are pious and humble
You hate arrogance and gladly watch it crumble
You provide the masses with a pair of glasses

So that they may see your full extent
That you're without confusion and always evident
How can they say you're wrong when I witness your miracles all around?
Your knowledge is beyond our comprehension so logical and profound
Causing the least bit of harm
Soothing the heart and making us calm
See, the one am talking about is


..... take a guess.


Ismail Mohamed '' Ismaciil Boqorka Bosaso''
Copyright © 2009

Although

Although you were conceived in violence,
You are the definition of peace.
Though your father and I are Somali, you are half Portuguese.
There may come a day when your told that you do not belong.
My child I need you to stay strong for they are wrong.
You are the right birthed from the wrong.
My hope and future since the cradle song.
Although this journey has had it's pains.
I have no regret that my blood runs through your veins.
So these unwanted notions do not even entertain.
A world of darkness, overshadowed by a life time of your light.
Once a blind place, now blessed with your sight.
You are the example of a second chance.
Now my child you must lead the dance.
You must be the image you want to see.
Help others heal so that they maybe free.
Justices requires someone to take a stand.
We must never let the violence and the inequality expand.
For you are one to know its effects first hand.
Now go with the marching band.
Have no fear you will be great.
You were destined to be by fate.
After all, you were consummated by my inner peace.
And you will always be my master piece.

Hayat Magan

Copyright © 2009

My selfish desire (Don’t divorce mum and dad)

There are somethings we just never get over...As Somalis we hardly talk about the pain and agony we deal with when our parents separate..as if being a Somali comes with an immunity from all sort of pains...


How often parents
consult with their children
before going their own
separate ways…
…as though we do not have any say in such matters….
helplessly, we were conceived…
…bought to life…
to live…and breathe…
and finally forced
to endure...a home led by one parent..
deprived of the opportunity to live
under one roof with both
the lives that give us life…
I, more than often, wonder…
what would life be…
…with hoyo and abo sitting together…
reminiscing on their love story….
of how they met…
of How abo impressed hoyo with his charm..
or perhaps how they fought to be together..
I would be a sucker to clicking their pictures in black and white rays as the
sunsets in our beautiful balcony….
I wonder the beauty of how my abo’s hand would
be when he held my hoyo’s hand.
.Interlocking their fingers together…forever
I wonder..
how life would be…
If they never went their separate ways..
I wonder the beauty of how organized my wallet would be…
If I could just have one single family picture..with hoyo and abo..
rather than… cutting and pasting to create one picture..of us..
yOur reconciliation is what my heart naively hopes for…
after all, with y(our) reconciliation…it would be ours too..
….and then perhaps, things would change…
As a child..I yearned for
Hoyo and abo to be together…
Prayed and hoped…
For their reunion....
And now as an adult…
I know that my childhood dream of
"My parents are both married to someone else, but they’ll get back together soon."
Will never be true….as tears drop of my eyes..
..i laugh at my stupidity..
I try to understand that somethings are just
never meant to be….
I have stopped asking why…
After all, I am an adult.
I should just comprehend
..the complexity of our lives..Like strong adults do..
"dont cry " the voices in my head demand now..



- Halima Ahmed
Copyright ©2009

War meals

Editor's note: This poem is written by Gideon Chumo, teacher in Mogadishu University. He has been teaching English and literature in MU since 2006. It certainly takes a strong passion and love for teaching for anyone to have the courage to teach in a country like Somalia. We, at the Somalia-TNP, salute Mr. Chumo for educating our brothers and sisters back home. May Allah Ta'aal bless him immensely.

At breakfast
The children ate bullets
Fired from the mouths
Of their fathers...

At lunch
Time-bombs hidden
In the breasts
Of their mothers...

At supper
They licked blood
From the wounds of other children...
But, where is the milk?
They asked
And no one
Could answer.


Gideon Chumo
Copyright ©2008

कविता

The beginning of each word is the same- Poetry. Its just in different languages.

Poetry is my weapon
to fight the evil thoughts
in my head
and to move on in life
from the past experiences
and to rejoice the
beauty of life

Gabay for me
Is a means to express
My depth love for
My loved ones
And appreciate the beauty of
My Somalinimo
It’s the means through
Which I ensure
My hope
For a greater Somalia STAYS ALIVE!

कविताis my special
way of celebrating
languages and cultures
and
of understanding “the other”
and of
learning to be a tolerant
being.


الشعرis embracing all that
I am
All that I was
And all that
I will be, InshAllah

mashairi is all about
learning the value of friends,
appreciate life,
enjoying it
and inhaling the beauty of it,
while exhale the ugly part of it

поезия is the only way
I remain certain
that our humane side
shall prevail our evil side!

詩 is my way of understanding
The complexity of
Life
And its secret codes

שירה is my way
Of dwelling
My soul in
The land of my ancestries
And reclaim our identity
As the Nation of Poets!


Poesía is my way of celebrating
This day of us
And our undying love
And our passion
And our future
And you!


Halima Ahmed

Copyright ©2009