Monday, June 17, 2013

Poet of the week: Nimo Hussein

Would you please introduce yourself to the readers? 

My name is Nimo Hussein, and I am a British Somali. I was actually born in Hargeisa but raised in London by my birth mother's sister- who is also my mother- the familial joys of being Somali . I studied History as my BA and MA with research focusing on gender in African societies. I like how old things teach us about new things. I especially love to understand how gender constructs inform who we think we have to be.

Do you remember the first time you wrote a poem and what was it about? Who was the first person you shared it with?

I was 9 years old the very first time I wrote a poem for school. I was surprised to have won a competition and was presented an award by our mayor. All for a very cringey poem about racism ('Racism is bad, it's much more than sad, so don't do this it's totally mad'- my brain refuses to remember the rest as there's only so much embarrassment I can take.)

Your poems speak on variety of topics but one theme that you have consistently and passionately written about is women. You have written about the issue of FGM, about Somali women, about Somali mothers, etc --- what inspires this?

Being a woman is a very big part of who I was taught to be. Much of the conditions of joy and despair of Somalis is tied very closely to womanhood and femininity and how that instructs the idea, and assertion, of masculinity. For me FGM is one of the most important topic for Somalis to discuss and ultimately eradicate. Female Genital Mutilation is not about religion, or history, or culture. It is about making men feel like men. We stand before God Himself and tell Him that He didn't do a good enough job on the bodies of women; that it is up to us to fix His design. And for that little girls die, and mothers die in childbirth and women dread their wedding night and live their entire lives being ripped, cut, sewn, ripped, cut, sewn. This isn't something our elders did that we're getting rid of. In Britain we have 20,000 girls at risk every year, many of whom are Somali. This is a real problem and needs to be talked about. There is a war on the bodies of little girls and we really can't expect a positive nation to spring from such a disgusting act.

I do try not only to challenge however, but also to celebrate, for there is so much resilience and power in Somali womanhood. My mother and father have very different accounts of what life was like when the war started in Hargeisa and they had to flee to Ethiopia. My father through no fault of his own was demoralized, dejected. My mother tells of thinking every single member of her family was murdered but realizing that at the age of 18 years old with only one biological son, she was responsible for the lives of her sibling's children. She would get up before fajr prayer in the camp and make tea (straining the dirty water with a head wrap) and laxoox to sell. This became her business, with which she saved enough money to save the lives of 15 of us. The very fact I am alive is testimony to the strength and the power of Somali mothers. This is why Somali women are a central theme in my writing. In the midst of all the reports of famine and war and disease and war and pirates and war and clans and war, the story of that soldier in the middle holding it all together is never really covered. I am trying to cover it.

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

Writing has really always been something I do, never something that I think. I don't really know where it's going to end up when I first start writing. Many times, I am embarrassed of the product but I always use the same method. I just write. I write a lot that I never share. Some poems and stories, some plots and characters are really about healing myself and I am not yet brave enough to heal with an audience. So I share the work that is general; that is about topics and things in my head and sometimes my heart, but never my fears or heartbreaks. Not yet. I haven't written any poems for a little while and it is always so hard for me to get back into the swing of it when I've left so many words unwritten. But with my dry spells, I can't force myself out of them. The writing will happen. The only sad part is perhaps the stories I neglected to tell in my absence might have been the most needed. I just haven't yet learned how to master myself and my craft to make it work when I am not in the mood. 

Who are some of your favorite poets?

One of my favourite poets right now is the Def Poet StaceyAnn Chin. I don't always agree with everything she says but I believe in the power of her thoughts in art. She has passion and is a real social activist. You have to want to change something with your work and she is the embodiment of a revolution waiting in the wings.

But the all time greatest poet in my opinion is Hadrawi- the present occupant of the throne of the Nation of Poets. My parents always recited Hadrawi growing up, and his theme of nationalism and patriotism allowed me to grow up with a sense of pride in my Somaliness, even when it might not necessarily have been considered the 'cool' thing to be. Hats off to Maxahmed Ibrahim Warsame for an unrivaled talent. MashaAllah.

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

My advice to closet poets is mainly that they may never know who might be healed by their work. It is difficult to understand the power of your words in someone else's life when you don't believe in that power yourself. But think, hasn't someone else's words touched you deeply? or given you clarity? or made you understand the world, or yourself, a bit better? If they can and have, why can't you? Having said that, some work could be about understanding yourself, and for that maybe you don't want, or need to share. That's ok too. But always write without fear.

Imagine.. Just imagine!

Imagine.. Just imagine for a second life entangled in hopelessness. 

Flickering lights beaming thru the thickness of darkness.

Imagine.. Just imagine for a second a growl of a hungry tummy.

Flinching thru the pains and numbing the mind that's already grumpy.

Imagine.. Just imagine for a second a faint scream that whistles for help.

Oh lord the mother can't squeeze another drop for a single gulp.

Imagine... Just imagine for a second ugly souls ping ponging for power.

While a child lifeless body grasping for air in their last dying hour.

Imagine.. Just imagine for a second a clenched fist of a dying mother.

So tight and bearing the stress of a cracked leather.

Imagine.. Just imagine for a second hunger Instagraming our mama's nudity.

A life shaped and paved by the sword we lay through our own stupidity.

Imagine.. Just imagine for a second a mind boggled in corruption and gamed in shame.

Narrow and shallow vision that'll hold us back from fame.

Imagine.. Just imagine!

Nephew Hamza
Copyright ©2013

Saturday, June 15, 2013

But we can only change things from the inside

I pack my bags again this weekend; I have always enjoyed traveling because of one important factor. It’s never been about the bustling airports or the usual hype that comes with such a journey. On the contrary the whole business of travelling in today’s heightened security checks has been somewhat unpleasant to me. I seem to fit all the wrong descriptions, leading to my extra scrutiny. At first I used to be offended, eventually I accepted that in many ways it ended up giving me peace of mind. Traveling has been one of the biggest self-educational mediums in my life. To see and witness different cultures and places so distinctive to mine has by far trumped any other experience in my life.


This weekend I travel back to London after almost 10 months in Africa, this journey like all others challenged my way of contemplation on different aspects. The conclusion thus far riddled my senses; I finally understood how naïve my peers and I have been for so long. Today without hesitation I can wholeheartedly say that over 80% of our misfortunes in the motherland are self-inflicted.  

Our generation has become bloated with self worth and the constant belief that we are entitled to the world and everything in it. Because we were fortunate to be in a time when education and wealth was abundant.  We blame the leadership of our continent, we blame the colonialist, we blame the rich, and we blame the poor. We would blame the sun if we could but we never look to ourselves as being instrumental in the difficulties.

Every young African educated or not has a responsibility to this continent. It seems that we have narrowed our capabilities by wanting to either work in government or in non-governmental organisations. Now if you don’t see the hypocrisy in that then apologises.  I must have heard too many “ but we can only change things from the inside”. Let us be frank, working in the above-mentioned organisations is not the issue, the problem lies with firstly the reasons behind the decision to take up such employment. Secondly in order for Africa to grow and become a place that shares its blessings with all of its indigenous inhabitants, we must diversify our efforts.

I am yet to come across an African of my generation who is thinking about industry, innovations in medicine or other important sectors. I have on the other hand met a number of young entrepreneurs, who have really inspired me in my own endeavours. This is what we need, the spirit to tackle our own shortcomings using our own instruments of change.

I would like to add just a little dimension, in case you agree with me. We are all fully aware of the defects of capitalism. Nevertheless it is a means of creating wealth, which is pivotal to any prescribed change we are to embark on. I have always maintained that it is possible to create prosperity in such a way that the by-products of these activities enhance the lives of the local communities. In essence, a social conscious form of capitalism, Unique to Africa by Africans.  It is more than just a possibility it is a necessity.

We can no longer afford to be held ransom by the impulses of international donors, or poverty enforcing multinationals. We can no longer blame dinosaur age political mentality. What we can do is come together and really ask ourselves serious questions and ponder deeply on the answers. To try is to increase the possibilities of success and that time has come.  



Hamza M.O Egal © copyright 2013 all rights reserved.

Ode to my papa

Its been 24 years
When my tears turned to fears
I was 2 he left me fatherless
Passed time with essays and tests
Never was athletic
I have been left to fend alone ever since i was fifteen
Washing cars as a teen
I could have turned into a fiend
Instead i turned into the path of academics
Smoking literature with indians
Already 26 now
Skirts , flirts all done for a laugh now
Feeling so bitter
Maybe i should have learnt to smoke that weed
God bless for that burning bush
That kush
If it wasnt for my bronchitis
No homies to tell me how tight it is
Evil is what you make it
And i know my feelings in a disarray
Cold lonely and afraid

My therapist
My unborn babies
These succubus ladies
Wheres that exit door
Are my words too hardcore
See my blood spraying on the floor
Mayday mayday
On my 22nd birthday
I thought i saw izrael that monday
Visionary dreams
Late night asthmatic heaves
Loss of sleep
Et tu hyder?
tu quoque mortem

I will forget about this on the morrow
These Pains guilt and sorrow


Hyder Noor
Copyright ©2013

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

My Passion

For me, writing is an escape from reality
A chance for me to forget everything that’s happening around me
The more I seem to write,
The more emotions I’m able to pour out.
The more I get rid of certain emotions,
I’m also able to pick myself up.
Writing has helped me open up more,
It has also helped me to confront a lot of things I couldn’t before.
Sometimes, I can be lost of words,
And also not being able to write,
For me, those are the worst days I know of,
Coz I feel as if my passion has ran out.
Writing is not only about escaping from my reality,
But it is also getting a chance to save someone from theirs too.
When life gets tough
And someone seems lost
I try to impact their lives with my writings.
Writing is an opportunity for me to explore my feelings, thoughts and dreams.
And opportunities for me to make someone else believe, in these too. 

Ayanii Mohamed
Copyright © 2013

The Beach

Love is strange
 in that land
Where the moon
Comes closer and closer
Dancing for life
Seducing the earth
Spreading on her a pearly blue sheet
Flowing along the curves
Giving flavor to the details
A flavor I never tasted
Despite that the night
Was exotic and wild like you luv
Despite that the air was laden With desires like me luv
I sat there watching !
Drawing on the sand what should have happened !
Listening to the beats as they speed up
asking the moon about his secret
How he always gets ur attention and I don't !
No answer ! Just a silence that covers you with
more attractive mystery is what i get 
c'mon moon
Is he
wicked
deaf
Or simply dazzled!
Who knows !
Who cares ?!
i will still ask !
and someday the shores 
will harbor me again 

Ismail A. Ali
Copyright © 2013

Friday, June 7, 2013

Alexandria

The walls are crumbling,
 The city is burning.
 What will you do?
Only freedom can quench
 The fires of oppression
Is this not a warning?
Can you not heed Alexandria?
The city was on fire
and yet the people stood at the centre of the flame.
Can you not see?
The roads won't betray them
These are their streets.
 Can't you hear freedom calling?
 Through the crumbling walls?
 Through the flames?
 Through the anger?
 Through the poverty and the pain?
Alexandria is alive
 though once you tried to kill her


Nimo Hussein
Copyright © 2013

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Poet of the week: Asha Ali



Would you please introduce yourself to the readers?

My name is Asha Ali, I currently live in London  but my heart and soul reside in a coastal city of Somalia.
I hope someday soon that i will be able to relocate to Somalia and write under a tree somewhere. Although I am grateful for the privilege of living in the west, home is always where the heart is.

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

I first started writing at the age of 15 and most of my poems were about love, or what i perceived it to be at that age. I was feeling many emotions which didn't seem to make any sense to me; writing became a form of liberation.

What does "being creative" mean to you?

Creativity to me means being unique in your approach to channel information, in a world where we are told what and how to think its important to maintain the strength to keep your identity. 

What do you try to communicate with your poetry?

I try to communicate issues that I am passionate about, there are so many ugly truths in the world which we can't change.  speaking about these issues is empowering.

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?

I find  that poetry comes to me when I am not completely focused, I might be sitting on a bus and the best verses come to my head. There are times that I want to write about something but the words do not flow the way i want, in that instance I take a leave it and I am bound to find inspiration elsewhere.

Who are some of your favorite poets?
To be honest i do not  have any because I do not read the works of poets.

What advice do you have for aspiring poets? Any word of advice for closet poets?
Let your heart do the writing and let go of any fear.

Anything else you would like to share?
Sometimes we may be reluctant to speak about certain issues for fear of alienation, but if you hold back from speaking the truth you are selling yourself short.

Noble Clan Leader

Noblesse oblige, one must act to his position with honorable behavior, privilege entails to responsibility, tribes and clans with no sense of nobility, no sense of structure, with Darod, and  Dir, Hawiya, and Isaaq, I see no difference, nationality Somali, ethnically Somali, language Somali, and religion............. Islam, similar yet far from brotherly, sun rises on cold dead bodies, sets on hungry malnutrition children, torn for two decades, running from a past that never fades, future looks grim, hate is a sin, we water and let grow in our young,  my tribe will be the death of a man, With wealth comes power, with power comes prestige, with prestige comes responsibility, we are indeed from nobles, so noblesse oblige

Ayan Abdi
Copyright © 2013

Land of the Poets

Born from the land of poets
where the word is a weapon
a place for both a mullah and the meek

Yet in this time the once proud has lost the rhyme
Expression is a must yet few can speak
Those who lead are the epitome of the weak

Now we destroyed the cities and hope is turn 
Smoke pollutes the air and the wise has gone

Lord send me from this shame for I have hurt, don’t forget me in the hour of pain

Zero to nothing negative to absolute despair
Mogadishu is a far dream the blood pours but who cares
We await a messiah the mehdi who will lead us to our land
The land of the horn our fathers home
where a man is appreciated and a woman is loved.

Somalia I will love you till the end, the tears in my eyes I have yet to comprehend

Abdirizaq Hassan
Copyright © 2013

Terms & Conditions for sharing your poem

1.    This page is dedicated to all Soomaals, at home and abroad; therefore one of the requirements is that you identify as such.

2.    Poems by non-Somalis are occasionally posted on the condition that the poems are about the Soomaal people specifically and the Africa in general. I want to make it clear that TNP welcomes everyone regardless of how one identifies to join this space, take part in dialogue generated here and be part of this group.

3.    Email your poems with the title on the subject heading to somalipoets@gmail.com

4.    If you plagiarize or repeatedly submit plagiarized poems after receiving warning, all of your previous work will be deleted immediately and never shared on TNP again.

5.    No poems that insult or degrade or dehumanize any human being or group of people based on a particular identity will be posted. We are about celebrating people and challenging those ideologies that we disagree with in a respectful manner.

6.    The Nation of Poets reserves the right to reject any poem that does not comply with the overall mission of the group.


Halima Ahmed
Halima@thenationofpoets.com

Monday, May 13, 2013

Poet of the week: Mohamed Abdikadir (Stanza)



The US-based founder of ‘Somalia the Nation of Poets’, Halima Ahmed, conducted the following exclusive interview with the Sudan-based Somali prolific poet and novelist, Mohamed Abdikadir (Stanza), – the author of Haldoor and Single Kiss. Daud, whose bestselling books were published, released and launched in Sudan in 2012, is a published writer and his latest novel, The Beaming Blood, is to be released soon. He is the founder and the current Secretary General of Somali Poets Club in Sudan.

To begin with, Mohamed, welcome to ‘The Nation of Poets. Would you please introduce yourself to our respective readers?

Stanza: Well, first of all, I would like to thank you and "The Nation of Poets" for conducting this interview with me. I am deeply indebted to this creative poetical platform for publishing and promoting the most powerful poetry by the scattered English-speaking Somali contemporary poets who traversed from East, West, North and South of the globe. My name is Mohamed Abdikadir Daud but I am commonly called "Stanza" which is my familiar nickname. I was born in the coastal port-city, Kismaio, in Southern Somalia in August, 1977. I was brought up in the Somali-populated Northeastern Province of Kenya, where, I did my primary and secondary schooling. The first primary school that I went to was Dadaab Boarding Primary School.  I graduated from the prestigious University of Juba, then in the Republic of Sudan; but now in the new Republic of South Sudan, therefore, I hold Bachelor Degree (Division One) in Arts and Humanities and I majored in English Language and Literature. I also hold Postgraduate Degree (Division One) in Diplomatic Peace and Development from the auspicious University of Bahri in Khartoum. I am now pursuing another Postgraduate Degree in Peace and Conflict Resolution at Bahri University.  In 2012, my first, debut, two books: Haldoor - a collection of my poems in Somali Language, and Single Kiss which is a collection of my poems in English, were released and launched in Khartoum. They were published by the leading Publishing House in Khartoum, Sudan Currency Printing Press, with the approval of the Sudanese Federal Council for Literary and Artistic Works. My latest novel in English is now ready for publication and in the hands of the above said entity for censorship. I hope it will be released soon. In addition to that, I am a United Nations-trained and certified Professional Translator and a Child Rights Activist trained and certified by Child Rights Institute in Khartoum and UNHCR. I worked with almost all the UN Organizations. Currently, I teach English Language, Public Speaking and Creative Writing at an Institute in Khartoum. My poems are part of the course and I enjoy teaching them. I am married to Deeqa Abdillahi Warsame who is based in Britain. I am the founder of Somali Poets Club in Sudan and its current Secretary General. I can say I am very bookish because I started reading novels while I was in standard three and today that I am pursuing my masters, there is no week that I don’t read a new novel. I am an avid reader, isn’t it so?

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

Stanza: I started writing poetry in Somali Language at the age of 8. I still remember the first lines that I orally recited. My mother was a poetess and she was famous for “Buraanbur”. She was also an outspoken story-teller and traditionalist. After serving us supper, she used to tell us cultural stories. As siblings, we had to wait for the entertaining narrations of mum every night. Her inspiring mythological narrations solidified my cultural foundation.  Under her heart-warming tutelage and linguistic sternness of my father, I crammed over 500 Somali proverbs most of them from my beloved mother. This wonderful mother had a heart of gold. She died in 2000, God rest her soul in paradise. Amen. I mourned for her with heart-boiling elegies. As for English, I began writing poetry in English in 2004 and I was inspired by my gifted lecturer, Dr. Mohamud Ramadan. This academically qualified and socially admirable lecturer taught us “Introduction to English Literature and Expression Writing.” Eye-opening as the courses were, I enjoyed them a lot.  Late eighties, when the rebellion of SPM against the then military government of Somalia commenced in the Lower Juba and Middle Juba, it had negative impact on us as family because bloody large-scale military engagements happened there. There were constant offensive and counter offensive between government forces and SPM fighters in the area led by the late warlord, Colonel Bashir Ali Salad (Biliqo). That time, I was in Liboi at the Somali-Kenyan border and the intensity of the civil war affected us in one way or another. My aunt who was raised in Mogadishu, started to record her powerful poems against the government in support of SPM. She was SPM underground cell and as a result of that she was branded as a "persona non grata" by the government which forced her to flee the country. Witnessing all those tormented childhood, I became peace hunter. I was born while Somalia and Ethiopia were warring over the oil-rich Ogaden. I am now living in a foreign country where most of the people don’t understand who I am. So I can say that I am a displaced and disturbed poet. I long for peace beyond limit.

What does "being creative" mean to you?

Stanza:  “Being creative” means to me more than metaphoric semantics and syntactical psycholinguistics can describe, because to be creative means to be talented and to be talented means to be gifted. The creative is capable of creating wonderful world of literature with both characterisation of poor and opulent protagonists and antagonists out of the blue and bestows upon them the most colourful attire of a theme to heal the pain of the voiceless in honour of justice and equality. As for me, I share my nocturnal and diurnal emotional intelligence and creative flair to defend the value of humanity at all levels of life.   My creative talent makes me to be a poet and an author always in the front line to fight against injustice, marginalisation, corruption, tribalism, nepotism and all the evil acts of man-made stupidity. Through creative authorship, I share my sadness and gladness with both the living and the non-living creatures. I represent myself as well as other fellow humans with the power of my pen positively.  I am grateful to the gracious God for giving me this rare creativity with which I share few persons in the world. 

What do you try to communicate with your poetry?

Stanza: Well, I communicate with my poetry the pros and cons of life. Because of it I hold the title “Poet” therefore; this creative and abstract insignia enables me to play with poetry. It is a God-given emblem that fascinates me to express my feeling when need takes me to. My younger brother, Shafi, who himself is a poet, calls me “the teacher of romantic poetry” because he understands the creative beauty in my words as he says. All in all, I write poetry about all aspects of life and nature as far as my imagination allows me to. Through lyrics and sorts and kinds of poetry, I talk to myself, to other people and to animals and or insects. When I realise those creatures can’t express their happiness and unhappiness, I represent them and speak on their behalf. Beauty is one thing that forces me to negotiate with poetry while patriotism is a subject that I consider a lot. Aesthetics gives me an assignment of writing poetry at an odd hour of the night.

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?

Stanza: I am married to poetry and it makes my wife jealous sometimes … so, due to this I don’t go into dry spell or block as they say. I write poetry in anywhere, at anytime and in any place. It is just a matter of being alone. I can write poetry in a calm place as well as in an excited spot. I recite poetry sometimes in my dream.

Who are some of your favorite poets?

Stanza: The first Somali poet that inspired me was the late prolific poet and historian, Abdullahi Maalim Ahmed (Dhoodaan), who passed away in the historic city, Herar, on 26th of April, 2013 and was buried in Jigjiga on 28th of April, 2013. God rest his soul in eternal paradise. His sudden death kicked me in the teeth. Death is must-meet but his passing away, was a disaster for the Somali classic literature.  Dhoodaan was the first Somali poet that I listened to his poems and they influenced me beyond imagination. I think I was ten, the first time that I encountered his poetry. From that time, he became my role model because the central insight of his poetry is very rich and he is famous for quoting Somali proverbs and idioms to give his listeners the easiest way of accessing to his poetical message.  Without hyperbole, I can say that he was the poet of the Somali poets. The now aging acclaimed Somali poet and philosopher, Mohamed Ibrahim Warsame (Hadrawi) is also my favourite poet. I admire him so much.  But I have never ever met those noted poets in the flesh. I really enjoy reading or listening to their creative works. Nazar Alkabani of Syria and Christina Rossetti of Britain are also my favourite.

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

Stanza: I am personally requesting and telling the upcoming Somali poets and writers to abstain from tribalism, nepotism, regionalism and poetical plagiarism. A poet or a writer is supposed to be above all evils and be a person of the nation. There are a lot of tribal poets who speak for the mild interests of their tribe but history corners them at long last. For goodness sake never be like those.  Whoever represents his clan with his God-given talent and harms others, will be deleted from the golden pages of history.  Never also allow others to harm your nation with their poetical weapons and humiliate you but warn them positively by following the path of self defense as Islam permits. I am telling my fellow country-mate, Somali poets and writers, to read as many books as they can because reading widens the mind and equips you with wonderful civilisation. Read about your country as well as other nations because we share a lot. Bear in mind that death is waiting for you and your creative words will have both negative and positive - pros and cons, on your deeds depending on how you use them in the numbered days that you are alive in this violated world.  Fear of Allah and indulge not in the materialistic world. Support your nation with your poetry for the right purpose and fight against the terrorists that are devastating the elites of Somalia. Never fear of them as your death is in the hands of Allah. A poet has to be brave and bold on account of that this hard time that Somalia is undergoing your words will make meaning if employed for the rights reason. If you fear of terrorists, you are not for the nation. As poets and writers, we shoulder national responsibility therefore; we have to be part in the rebuilding of the lost nation. I am telling you that I received death threat more than three times from the enemies of our nation. One month ago, a unanimous caller who phoned me from a no-number phone said to me, “I promise to behead you wherever I find you!” I replied to him, “Allah already planned the day of my death it is not what you can plan. Your threat won’t silence my pen.” Those elements are threatening me for just my saying stop the killing of the elites that the nation is in need of. If a person is to kill you for telling him not to kill the eyes of the country, then humanity is dying in front of our eyes.  All in all, every poet must make history and leave essential legacy for the coming generation.

Anything else you would like to share?

Stanza: Dear sister, Halima Ali Ahmed, I would like to thank you cosily for featuring me and allowing me participate in the programme of (Poet of the Week). I am grateful to your crucial contribution to the progress of our words. Somalia is a nation endowed with acclaimed poets and you are one of them. I am really proud of you. God bless you. Let me also take this timely opportunity to greet the pioneering poets of this blog. I appreciate their talent.




Sunday, May 12, 2013

I write Poetry


I write poetry when I behold of a word that is worthy to till
Which is in literature very rich and can mean a lot to feel
And in poetry extremely powerful for a poet’s gap to fill;

I write poetry when I behold of the blue sky
Enjoying the marvelous stars atop and high
And full of admiration and without sigh;

I write poetry when I behold of the calmness of a night
That is, safe and secure, from any sort of hurting bite
And in a peaceful mood so fantastic and right;

I write poetry when I behold of a garden so green
That smiles at me with its vision crystal and clean
In a moment sometimes generous, sometimes mean;

I write poetry when I behold of a dancing tide
Playing inside the sea or a river that is wide
And floating on a sailing boat for a ride;

I write poetry when I behold of a ripe fruit
To the heart so pleased, to eyes so cute
And to the tongue tasty, delicious and good;

I write poetry when I behold of a magic giant mountain
On top of it has a desirable and wonderful of a fountain
And with beautiful flowers there as if ready for a campaign;

I write poetry when I behold the fresh foliage of a bay
Deserving for my poetical pen to talk and dearly pay
In an affirmative motion that avoids saying no to nay;

I write poetry when I behold of a bud
Rotating like an animal chewing a cud
And behaving like a lovely playful of a lad;

I write poetry when I behold of a bird
Attending to its chicks like a caring dad
Fencing the nest and preventing of a bad;

I write poetry when I behold of a chameleon
With changing colours though one and alone
What a Godly miracle of a colour by it is worn!

I write poetry when I behold of an apple
Not the eatable one but that on the soft pineapple
When it swings arouses the feeling of man and capable;

I write poetry when I behold of an arrow
An arrow of love that is in a bow
In my romantic heart up and low;

I write poetry when I behold of a fantastic eye
Which enacts my feeling ever not to say goodbye
And filling the furrow and uttering hello and hi;

I write poetry when I behold my darling and want her to kiss
By hugging her like a baby for our love's sake not to miss
As for my heart when with her is always relaxed and in peace;

I write poetry when I behold wonderful of a land
Being developed in justice with united peoples' hand
Always progressing like success of an auspicious band;

I write poetry when I behold the past left behind
Desiderating for it always and ever fresh in mind
Because of its memorable and exciting ink of a kind;

I write poetry when I behold of a life endangered to die
Be it here and there, somebody's or thine and my
Displacing fallacy trying here and there to lie;

I write poetry when I behold of an idea that is meaningful to tell
For the theme of it to avoid the pain of the burning of a hell
Which I pray to be forever far from and not at once to smell;

I write poetry when I behold of a man who is in corruption
As to tell him that he is in a bad lane of a defaming motion
And spoiling his dignity for greed, killing the name of a nation;

I write poetry when I behold of an honest ruler
Not for personal gain from that of a supervisor
But for recommendation of the good of him as a leader.

Mohamed Abdikaadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2013

Would she let him be free?


No five year old girl should know what a manhood is
All because some beast, most probably a close family member couldn't silence the devils within him
And so he chose to defile a delicate little flower
Her innocence shattered in a matter of seconds, as her age is set to fast forward times twenty
She can be a child no more
Even Barbie doesn't look like she did before
No fun and games just nighmares and pain
Mommy buys dolls in the hope that her little princess would smile again
If she knew the secrets buried within her daughter would she fight to set her free
Or would she fear community shame and let him be free

Asha Ali
Copyright ©2013

Untitled


Darling my knees buckle in your line-of-sight; 
my delight, know you the simple diner-type but wine..
If the time-is-right eyes, still waters but your tongue is so calypso 
from your conversation wouldn't think you'd move 
your hips so delicate, as the flower but powerful your allure could guide me to your beach through the ocean, of this I'm shore 
so pure are my thoughts of you, if ever I get lost in you due this result will be, one can't calculate the cost of you and life's full of priceless vices, 
I think of my best and you're twice as nice as so, hummingbird if I might, surrender your tears love let, me bleed for your pain and drown in this red flood oh, you're worth it every second of every shift each sleepless night and early morning, each penny of every gift.

Faisal Jama
Copyright © 2013

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Be


Be it or beat it because bullshit ain't a business but merely a talk
Take the path of the talker or be a walker
Be the person who spits out beautiful melody or a phony ass
But by all means
Be yourself
Or you will surely be lost
Be yourself and let others be in peace
Get your life straight and concern yourself with that
The life of others ain't your business
Be the one who is using his/her time wisely instead of it be wasted by others
Be, be, be, be, be, be beautiful or punk out life b****
Fatima Ahmed
Copyright © 2013

Underground

I pick up the news paper on the run.
I run and stay underground,
chasing hope, injustice is all I found.
Like a nomad, chasing the light at dawn.

She does it for the younger generation.
She runs and stays underground,
principles resonate, remain vivid and bound.
They see you and me as one nation.

He hides the pain, inflicted by society.
He runs and stays underground,
yet his feet lost solid ground.
Who is to blame, if not you and me.

Life has its own ways -
It runs and stays underground,
flies by at the speed of sound.
Are you up for the chase?

Underground, that is how I feel, underground is my state of mind.
Poetry, I used to grind, poetry is my waterwheel -

The old mill crushing injustice to pieces -
find me underground, the place I made peace with.

Mahad
Copyright © 2013