The Nation of Poets

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Infinity

I wish

that i could

make you love me

the way Allah meant

for a man to love a woman.

And for us to be

the sworn zawaj

the pen had scribed

when we were

but a drop of nutfah.

I wish

that i could have you

touch me

the way that husbands touched wives

back then

gentle, true, assuring.

And not the way men in those movies

steal a woman's innocence-

and break her back

with the weight

of a fatherless sin.

No.

I pray

for a pious love

so pure

that it rings in the ears of

those who dwell in Jannah.

And so true-

that were we to enter it-

i might be

more desirable to you

than the Huural Ceyn.

I do not pray

for a happy ever after

but for an infinity

with you.

InshaAllah.

Farah Gabdon

Listen , see and give

Open your eyes , open your heart to those in plight ,who plea for your help ,

who cannot migrate to a safer place ,

who are back home where the distribution of aid is sometimes impossible .

This is a test , a test to a nation struck by war , toppled by division , bombarded with a vivid vision of the future.

Listen and heed , open your ears and hear their cries ,

open your palms and supplicate to Allah to help them ,

open your palms and give to them what you would’ve needed if you were in the same situation.

Scurvy, Rickets and Kwashiorkor, have you heard of these before?

Childhood deficiencies that many who know wish to ignore.

Third world country is that all it is to you?

a child with a pot belly , weak muscles ,a ribcage piercing the skin , with frail features , already fragile .

The lack of nutrition has left the child not able to move , not able to speak ,not able to cry , although you can see it in their eyes ,they are deprived from their basic necessities,

the situation is dire no water, no food and no shelter .

This is nothing but a trail from Allah and Allah loves those whom he tests the most.

So be patient and God fearing.

Rukia Zakaria Mohamoud Haji

Ramadan Haiku # 4

More skin than bones I
Still praise the Lord that gives me
Brothers and sisters that care.

Ramadan Haiku day # 4 by Amal Saed

Ramadan Haiku # 3

Displaced, malnourished, weak and sad
Are regular emotions felt by the horn
So please donate and supplicate.

Ramadan Haiku day # 3 by Amal Saed♥

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

TNP's Ramadan Haiku # 2

Ya Allah grant us wisdom
To be grateful for all we have
In this Ramadan and forever

TNP's Ramadan Haiku # 1

For His sake we fast

So we may increase in faith and

Humility and strive for Jannah

♥

Ramadan Resoultion Mr. Devilish Poem...

This is my Ramadan resolution

Pardon my departure Mr. Devilish.

Farewell & Good riddance

Mr. Instigator of sin, fear & anger

Enough is enough, the season is right

The addiction is over, the cure is here

My creator is calling and I must answer

Giver of life and death

This is my Ramadan resolution

Pardon my departure Mr. Devilish

No more part timing, half stepping

The deen, I am going in full time

Bottles down, ciggs down, gaze down

Hijab on, Kufi on, prayers up, knees down

This my Ramadan resolution

Pardon my departure Mr. Devilish

Your intentions are my repentances

My intentions are your nemesis

Pure, blissful & god-meaningful.

Forever Dismissive of Your demise

I am.. Freely.. Independently-Thinking & plotting

Against You

This is my Ramadan resolution

Pardon my departure Mr. Devilish

Fasting for a cause, greater than

Your temptations and intentions

Blessing 10x greater, spiritually awaking

The heart and mind

To be near the

Greatest One.

Allahu akbar

Awil Jama

Somalia remember me

I am a refugee,

I am a Hawo i am called H here it’s easier

I am familiar with chips and fish

Different dirt, different air, a different life

I have heard of you Somalia,

Images inked by parents

The last image was that you had been left to hyenas,

Hunting in packs they hounded you Somalia and we left

On Mondays to Friday I remind myself of a Jane,

On the weekend I may curl up Somalia

Try to suppress the voices of Hawo,

Which come to the fore with ever more intensity recently

Like a bad dream I’m replayed images of children, women and collarbones

The crevices tell a story of’ a journey long and arduous

under an unrelenting sun

I may watch you on TV but i still understand the language of my grandfathers

To piece together a story using the flogging of the sun, dirt

Children, women and collarbones

It rains here Somalia in what seems to be a cruel twist of irony,

More than we deserve,

I look up and thank the one who created you and me

Pray he may send the heavy clouds upon you,

To fill those collarbones I had seen; create puddles of life.

My skin realises we have a deeper tapestry of history,

It recognises the fact out grandparents may have played as youngsters,

Your dad may have served my mother in one of the bustling cafes in Mogadishu once upon a time,

We held hands and hearts,

I live in London

But my heart is with you each beat praying to bring the earth back to life again

Hawo Sayyid

DADAAB isn't a refugee!!!

can you hear it ?

listen closely !!!

can you hear the heavy breathing

of those running from hell ?

isn't hell what drives people

to gather what left of their strength!

to embrace a journey taking them

down the road of death!

road infested with darkness

and the humming of the scavengers

where there is no rain , no trees ,

no shades , no summer breeze

or romantic nights

road paved with agony

and the only choices left there

are the hard ones or death

despite all of that

the seekers don't

show any sign of fear

there is no smile left

in their pockets to spend

or a tear

keep walking and don't look back

there is no grief or burial

for those who can't survive

and the prayers are locked

in the dark allies of the heart

there are no loved ones

on the road of death

there are only hard choices or death

so keep walking until you survive

and what you get ?!!

DADAAB is the prize!!!

as ironically as it seems

that the ends are like the beginnings

that death has many names and means

death has many names and means

N.B : DADAAB is designed for 90,000 but it hosts more than 300,000 before this crisis and u can imagine with this crisis still the aid organization insists on using it ..total disaster.

A silent genocide. 2004-2009 Dadaab refugeecamp - 90 kilometers from the somali border. the world biggest refugeecamp with apx. 300.000 people living there. a small girl collecting drinking water and brining it back to her family. NOOR

Ismail A. Ali

Beautiful Pain

If beauty is the morning sun

as it emerges from darkness

to cultivate and replenish

Pain is agony which is felt

as leaves from trees began to melt

and hunger is alleviated with stone belts

If beauty is the evening moon

glamorous in its glee

to the highest degree

Pain is ferocious feelings of famine

feeding on victims of frantic panic

forcing their feet to flee like refugees

If beauty is the open sea

pain is shallow and would disagree

If beauty is a midsummer

night's breeze

Than pain is solitude

emptiness and hard to please

But please don't get it misconstrued

beauty is pain and pain is beauty

The trials and the tribulations

faced with every nation

from past

present

to future generations

So what makes us any different?

Abdisalaan Haji

The Doctor Walking Proud

One day I'll be a doctor

They'll tell me I'm one of the few here.

I'll live for life

I'll heal the wounds on this great place

Give husbands back to wives

and mothers to children.

I'll be so proud of my white coat,

No one would ever think it possible

a little girl from a little village

in this coat!

It will be much better than any certificate

I can assure you that!

Even better than the music to my ears

when men start calling me 'Dr'

I'll be so proud every time I save a mother giving birth

Whilst in my brilliantly white coat.

Our births are not like others around the world

Our women die often

Their bodies closed exits

Travel blocks around the birth canal.

So we need all the doctors we can get

Because we need all the mothers we have.

Little girls will tell me they'll wear my coat

When they grow up.

I am proud of them even though it's not yet real.

I am proud knowing there will be more like me.

More little girls dreaming of healing this earth

Of living for life

Of giving husbands to wives

and mothers to children.

But for now I'm going to concentrate on walking

just walking.

One foot slowly in front of the other.

We will stop soon,

Hoyoo says that just one more day

And we'll be in Dadaab.

Dadaab sounds like a place of magic.

I know there will be food there

and water ofcourse

bariis

and hilib

and injeera

and suqaar

and muuse

and shaah

and caano

and

EVERYTHING.

but there won't be guns

and there won't be flies there.

There will be loads of adults

in long white coats

maybe I'll be able to try one on

If I'm really nice.

And my little brother, Axmed will be there.

I haven't seen him for many days now

Hoyoo says he will meet us

He's just resting, waiting for Aabo.

But in dadaab he'll be there

and the doctors will give him

medicines and creams for his leg

Last time I saw him it was a funny colour.

Maybe they'll let me give him the medicines.

I need to practice

Dadaab will be a good place to start,

there are so many sick people walking there,

I'll have loads of patients.

We'll all get there in one more day

Just like Hoyoo said.

Even those who've just laid down to rest

Like Axmed.

One foot infront of the other

and sometimes just dragging really.

Nimo Hussein

2011

NB: 'hoyoo' is mother

aabo- father

Dadaab- the world's largest refugee camp where thousands of Somalis are walking to every single day

Bariis- rice

hilib- meat

injeera- pancake-like

suqaar- diced lamb dish

caano- milk

muuse- bananas (we Somalis eat bananas with everything)

shaah- tea

Nimo Hussein

I Remember

I remember crawling under bed

Running outside in the middle of the night

Seeking comfort in friendly enemies

And strangers

All in the hopes of avoiding you.

I remember crying to bed night and again

Praying hard for help

My 10 year old mind asking

Why God isn't here yet

I cried and sobbed

I rebelled and hated

All in the hopes of numbing

The scars caused by you.

I remember finding comfort

In inflicting physical pain

Upon myself

All in the hopes of ceasing the emotional

And mental torture

You caused.

I remember not trusting

I remember the shame

I remember hating and blaming

Myself

I remember everything....

But most of all

I remember the fact that you

Have never apologies for your actions

And, although that would never change

The pain you caused me over the years

It would at least tell me

You are ashamed of your actions

That you were wrong

And, that you are seeking my forgiveness

For imprinting stubborn scars on my heart, forever.

Halima Ahmed

Dua

And so, if this curtain is closed

In the middle of the cold room,

What help have I got,

You Allah,

Oh you Allah,

Even with this mountain of sins,

These one or two flying debris of filth

Who shall protect me?

You Allah

Oh you Allah,

I am truly sorry,

I am human, I know forgive me

With this tear drop,

On this tarmaced floor

I beg and plead forgive me,

You are my true friend,

Don’t be angry

Oh Allah, forgive me,

When I forget remind me,

Oh Allah,

I dream of a time I can meet you

Between two valleys

I hope for your invitation,

Oh Allah

Allow me

You are my Sustainer, my Rabb,

The first and last, Oh Allah forgive me

Hawo sayyid