Here are some really cool poems, some are long, but you'll love 'em! they're great! THE MUSLIM WOMAN 'UNVEILED' by Izdehar Albowyha You look at me and call me oppressed, Simply because of the way I'm dressed, You know me not for what's inside, You judge the clothing I wear with pride, My body's not for your eyes to hold, You must speak to my mind, not my feminine mold, I'm an individual, I'm no mans slave, It's Allahs pleasure that I only crave, I have a voice so I will be heard, For in my heart I carry His word, "O ye women, wrap close your cloak, So you won't be bothered by ignorant folk", Man doesn't tell me to dress this way, It's a Law from God that I obey, Oppressed is something I'm truly NOT, For liberation is what I've got, It was given to me many years ago, With the right to prosper, the right to grow, I can climb moutains or cross the seas, Expand my mind in all degrees, For God Himself gave us LIB-ER-TY, When He sent Islam, To You and Me! WOMEN OF THE VEIL by Hena Farooq Her long, thick, shiny black hair Fell against her back. Her rich, copper skin Gleamed in the sunlight. Her slender figure outlined, With her soft voluptuous curves. But when she stepped outside, She became a ghostly figure of the night. Nothing more to the people Than a dark, shadowy figure of oppression. But she showed them. As she walked down the street, People made way, Men lowered their gazes in utmost respect. And others whispered, As she held her head up high, With pride in her belief And showed them how oppressed she really was! While they whistled at their women, Looking them up and down as they were pieces of meat to be inspected? She pitied their savage ways. As she walked into the arms of her partner, Her only love, Her husband. Where she was transformed, Into her beautiful self, For only his eyes to see. LAMENT OF THE QUR'AN by Mahir-ul-Qadri As an ornament do they adorn me, Yet they keep me and sometimes kiss me. In their celebtrations they recite me. In disputes they swear by me. On shelves do they securely keep me Till another celebration or dispute, when they need me. Yes, they read and memorize me, Yet only an ornament am I. My message lies neglected, my treasure untouched, The field lies bare, where blossomed once true glory. Wrong is the the treatment that I receive So much to give have I, but none is there to perceive. A VIEW OF DEATH by Nadeem Tusneem It was a day of cutting sadness and endless sorrow. Outside, a grayish mist under a somber sky hid a street, Leading to a gentle home, whose door I peered through, To catch a glimpse of the turmoil coming from within; A home once packed with energy and vigor Now flooded with melancholic rivers of tears; I stared at the ghostlike face of the woman lying on the cot; A woman, once full of life, now as cold as a winter's chill, Surrounded by those who admired and loved her; The aura around her sending rays of sadness into my heart, Unearthing from my childhood, the precious memories of her And as I thought and thought in a mindless trance I saw the Angel of Death bowing before her, Tears coming out of his lustrous eyes That life so precious as hers, he had to take "Please, don't take her," the words whispered out of my mouth; But he managed to bring himself together and flew away Taking her soul into the higest heavens in the sky My heart sunk, as tears flooded out of my eyes And my eyes simply stared into the dismal sky. MY SHADE by Khadija Javed You wonder what my shade is, What it represents. Call me anything; An extremist, a fundamentalist, Anything you desire. I don't care. My shade is My protection from this evil world, from roaming eyes, from diseased hearts. Call me anything; Vain or Submissive. don't care. My shade is My Protection of my beauty, reserved for one special gift that God has given me; My Life Partner. This world is but a fleeting moment about to end at Any Time. The Signs are here. The Day of Judgement is coming. No one will enter my grave with me except My body, my heart, my soul. Call me a pessimist, Distressed, Repressed, Oppressed, I don't care. My shade Covers me Like a tree from the sun; Like a coat of wax on your shiny new sportscar. My shade My protection, is my Khimaar, I am a woman of Islaam. THE TEARS NEVER DID STOP by Shazah Sabuhi I set my foot inside the Holy Mosque, Upon the cold, white marble, Where day and night, People sat worshipping, praying, The tears never did stop. Right and left, the Mosque being cleaned, Shining, not a particle of dust, The carvings of marble, the plates of gold, The symmetry of the whole Mosque, the largest of it all, The tears never did stop. Then came the grandest of the whole, The center of one's life and concerns, The big, Beautiful House of Allah, Covered with black cloth and gold leaf writing, The tears never did stop My life flashed past me, the good and the bad, such a feeling I had never felt before, A special bondage to the Almighty-A sudden chill in me, The tears never did stop Looking around, the large floor was filled with people, Circling the beautiful house, loudly chanting, People sitting, praying for forgiveness, Praying for another chance to lead a better life, The tears never did stop Taking a deep breath, I entered the never ending crowd, With my heart pouring out all the prayers I could think of, Begging for forgiveness of my sins, Praying to become a better individual The tears never did stop I ran around the black house, The ancient, black house built by Ibrahim centuries ago, Where not one second passes when people are not circling it, praying, The tears never did stop I got closer as did my heart, mind and soul, I touched the sacred house, hands trembling, Knowing I was as close as ever to the Almighty, The tears never did stop It was amazing, everyone centered their attention only on worshipping All worldly concerns forgotten, focused on praying, Forgetting everydah matters and happenings, The tears never did stop The rituals were tiring, took strength and time, But what is a few hours for our Giver? Our Creator? For what He has given us, the worldly goods, the luxuries, A few hours of forgiveness for our sins, The tears never did stop. COVERSATION WITH THE ANGEL by G.H.E. Vanker This is the tale of an Average Man, Who acts contrary to Allah's plan. If you are reflected herein, Then repent, and commit no sin. 'Twas early in the morning at four. When death knocked upon a bedroom door. "Who is there?" the sleeping one cried. "I'm Izrael, let me inside." At once the man began to shiver, As one sweating, in deadly fever, He shouted to his sleeping wife, "Don't let him take away my life." "Please go away, O Angel of Death! Leave me alone, I'm not ready yet. My family on me, depend, Give me a chance, O please, I'll repent!" The Angel knocked again and again, "Friend! I'll take you life without a pain, 'Tis you soul that Allah require, I come not with my own desire." Bewildered, the man began to cry, "O Angel! I'm so afraid to die! I'll give you gold, and be your slave, Don't send me to the unlit grave." "Let me in, O friend!" the Angel said, "Open the door, get up from you bed. If you do not allow me in, I will walk through it, like a jinn." The man held a gun in his right hand, Ready to defy the Angel's stand, "I'll point my gun, towards your head. You dare come in, I'll shoot you dead." By now, the Angel was in the room, Saying, "O Friend! Prepare for your doom. Foolish man, Angels never die, Put down your gun, and do not sigh." "Why are you afraid? Tell me O man, To die according to Allah's plan? Come, smile at me, and do not be grim, Be happy to return to Him." "O Angel! I bow my head in shame, I had no time to take Allah's name, From morn till dusk, I made my wealth, Not even caring for my health." "Allah's command's I never obeyed Nor five times a day I ever prayed. A Ramadan came and a Ramadan went But no time had I to repent." "The Hajj was already Fard on me But I would not part with my money, All charities I did ignore Taking usury more and more." "Sometimes I sipped my favorite wine With flirting women I sat to dine. O Angel! I appeal to you Spare my life for a year or two." "The Laws of Quran I will obey, I'll begin Salah, this very day. My fast and Hajj, I will complete, And keep away from self conceit." "I will refrain from usury, And give all my wealth to charity, Wine and wenches, I will detest, Allah's oneness I will attest." "We Angels do what Allah demands, We can not go against His commands. Death is ordained for everyone, Father, mother, daughter or son." "I'm afraid, this moment is you last, Now be reminded, of your past. I do understand your fears, But it is now too late for tears." "You lived in this world, two score or more, Never did you, your people adore. Your parents, you did not obey, Hungry beggars, you turned away." "Your two ill-gotten, female offspring's, In nightclubs, for livelihood they sing. Instead of making more Muslims, You have made your children non Muslims." "You ignored the Muezzin's Adhaan, Nor did you read the Holy Qur'an. Breaking promises all your life, Backbiting friends, and causing strife." "From hoarded goods, great profits you made, And your poor workers, you underpaid. Horses and cards were your leisure, Money-making was your pleasure." "You ate vitamins and grew more fat, With the very sick, you never sat. A pint of blood you never gave, Which could a little baby be save." "O Human, you have done enough wrong, You bought good properties for a song. When the farmers appealed to you, You did not have mercy, 'tis true." "Paradise for you? I cannot tell, Undoubtedly, you will dwell in hell. There's no time to repent, I'll take your soul, for which I'm sent." The ending, however, is very sad. Eventually, the man became mad. With a cry, he jumped out of bed. And suddenly, he fell down dead. O Reader! Take a moral from here, Never know, your end may be near. Change you living and make amends, For heaven, on your deeds depends! JUST LIKE THAT -Anonymous Sometimes I think about the moment of no doubt the fate that reached every tall short person thin be he, or stout when it came it just came just like that the intensity of the pain unconcievable by the brain they said it was like 70 swords aimed to strike how can I bear that if only by a cut, my arm will get so stiff How will i act..... What will I say.... I can't just run away from facing that day All I can do is Pray to Allah everyday in hope that he may make it a simple day I heard that some hallucinated and from the pain commited blasphemy now.... I really won't like that to happen to me at least because at that moment of pain I'll be under so much strain that caring about someone else would be the least Will I go to Janah what my soul always desired? or will I be sent directly to the hellfire? ........just like that My soul always tells me: "No ,that won't happen to you.... you are a pious man with a heart overflown with Iman Allah will spare you from the pain".... But how can that be true.... When the Prophet sent to you better than you and him..... peace be upon him suffered these moments too .....just like that Or are you better than him?!?!? So my advice for you ......and for me too is to stick to The Book sent by The Creator of man (and every other thing) The Holy Quran and read a part daily , at least one chapter this insha Allah is good for the Hereafter not only reading.... ....understanding too Quran and Sunnah ... stick to these two Is it too hard to do that at once? Well, ... and so is ... entering Paradise So DO IT ........ that is my advice... .....just like that and pray for the person who wrote this poem so he won't be punished ..... just like that I WONDER... -Anonymous If Prophet Muhammad visited you Just for a day or two, If he came unexpectedly, I wonder what you'd do, Oh, I know you'd give your nicest room To such an honored And all the food you'd serve him, Would be the very best, And you would keep assuring him, You're glad to have him there, That serving him in your home, Is joy beyond compare. But ... when you saw him coming, Would you meet him at the door, With arms outstretched in welcome To your visitor? Or ... would you have to change your clothes Before you let him in? Or hide some magazines and put The Qur'an where they had been? Would you still watch the same movies On your T.V. set? Or would you switch it off Before he gets upset? Would you turn off the radio, And hope he hadn't heard? And wish you hadn't uttered that last hasty word? Would you hide your worldly music, And instead take Hadith books out? Could you let him walk right in, Or would you have to rush about? And, I wonder ... if the Prophet spent A day or two with you, Would you go right on doing the things You always do? Would you go right on saying the things You always say? Would life for you continue, As it does from day to day? Would your family squabbles Keep up their usual pace, And Would you find it hard each meal To say a table grace? Would you keep up each and every prayer Without putting on a frown? And would you always jump up early For prayer at dawn? Would you sing the songs you always sing, And read the books you read? And let him know the things on which Your mind and spirit feed? Would you take the Prophet with you Everywhere you plan to go? Or, would you maybe change your plans Just for a day or so? Would you be glad to have him meet Your very closest friends? Or, would you hope they stay away Until his visit ends? Would you be glad to have him stay Forever, on and on? Or would you sigh with great relief When he at last was gone? It might be interesting to know The things that you would do, If Prophet Muhammad, in person, came to spend some time with you. YA ALLAH -Anonymous All praises are for you Allah, how I hope that you are there. For sinful though I know I am, your displeasure I can not bear. Never, till this moment, did I realize how much I've strayed. Never, till now, was I more conscious of all those times when I should have prayed. For sins are like heavy baggage, that one carries through Life, the airport. Why didn't I realize sooner, that Earth is but a place of sport? Ya Allah ! Forgive me. Save me from the fire of Hell. Forgive me as you did my parents, from Jan'ah though they fell. Ya Allah ! Protect me. From myself for my soul is weak. Let me not falter ever, for Jan'ah is the abode I seek. Ya, Allah! Please help me. For I don't understand and thus, I fear. What happened to all those moments when I never doubted that you were near ? My actions once were guided, by my faith which, once, was strong. Ya Allah! please guide me . What happened, what went wrong ? Each footstep that I used to take, I took with you ever near my side. The Quran was my faithful companion, Rasoolallah my beloved guide. How I yearn for those bygone days Allah, for I know that the day comes near When we'll each receive our just rewards, and Truth will stand sparkling clear. Life is like a spider's web Allah. We get caught in its tricky snare So thoroughly are we disillusioned, time for salat we can not spare. I sit here and I wonder, Ya Allah! Why did I fall so low ? What happened to my faith Allah? Where did my Iman go? In this earthly life of ours, so often does sin seem right. Falsehood seems to be the truth, as if days are confused with night. Man is an imperfect creature. And thus, Man shall always wrong. For the road to Jan'ah is rocky, and the journey seems awfully long. Ya Allah ! Our creator, we are all just peices of clay. Please help us with our steps in life, and let us not lose our way. All praises are for you Allah, I know that you are near. I know that you have read my heart, and my words I know you hear. TO WESTERN WOMEN by Aisha When you look at me all you can see Is the scarf that covers my hair My word you can't hear Because you're too full of fear, Mouth gaping, all you do is stare. You think it's not my own choice, In your own "liberation" you rejoice. You're so thankful that you're not me. think I'm uneducated, Trapped, oppressed and subjugated. You're so thankful that you are free. But Western women you've got it wrong- You're the weak and i'm the strong, For I've rejected the trap of man. Fancy clothes- low neck, short skirt, These are devices for pain and hurt, Always jumping to the male agenda, Competing on his terms. No job share, no baby-sitting facilities, No feeding and diaper-changing amenities. No equal pay for equal skill- Your job they can always fill. Is this liberation? a person with ideas and thought, I'm not for sale, I can't be bought. I won't decorate anyone's arm, Nor be promoted for my charm. There's more to me than playing coy. Living life as a balancing game- mother, Daughter, wife, nurse, cleaner, cook, lover- And still bring home a wage. Who thought up this modern "freedom" Where man can love'em and man can leave 'em. This is not free but life in a cage. Western women you can have your life. Mine- it has less strife. I cover and i get respected Surely that's to be expected- For I won't demean the feminine I won't live to a male criterion. I dance to my own tune, And i hope you see this very soon, For your own sake- wake up and use your sight! Are you so sure that you are right? ISLAM Islam is a way of life, try it. Islam is a gift, accept it. Islam is a journey, complete it. Islam is a struggle, fight for it. Islam is a goal, achieve it. Islam is an opportunity, take it. Islam is not for sinners, overcome it. Islam is not a game, don't play with it. Islam is not a mystery, behold it. Islam is not for cowards, face it. Islam is not for the dead, live it. Islam is a promise, fulfill it. Islam is a duty, perform it. Islam is a treasure (the Prayer), pray it. Islam is a beautiful way of life, see it. Islam has a message for you, hear it. Islam is love , love it. NOTHING ELSE I'D RATHER BE by Melanie/Inaya As surely as the words will fall as gentle as the willows call. What I say will help no more It can not open the truthful door. What I believe you can not help though you're drowning me in the sea kelp. Dragging me through emotion storms And closing me from my faithful dorms. I am not black, I am not white Oh no, I am a different type. I am no worse because my body is covered But yet still your resentness hoovers. I can not help you understand But this is what Allah has planned. Why can't you still see me here Has my face grown unclear? Society has twisted your rules And wrapped you around their irrational spools. I am a Muslim you must see There is nothing else I'd rather be. I am so completely happy this way I don't miss the other days. I don't mind not wearing shorts It is merely superficial parts. I don't mind not going on a date Besides the guys were always late. I don't care that I don't wear much make-up on my face It only made pimples break out all over the place. It is the completness in my heart That I can't not bear to part. Let others think as the will But this Imaan (faith) of mine will be there still. 'CAUSE I AM A MOTHER NOW by Farah Salman My Status has been raised; My efforts have been praised; Not in an ordinary way or at some place small, But in the greatest book of all. Being thankful to Allah, my head goes down to bow. Why? 'ause I am a mother now. Mother-baby bondage is the strongest for sure; My rights when compared are three times more; Though sacrifices are ahead that I have to endure, Being thankful to Allah, my head goes down to bow. Why? 'cause I am a mother now. The baby needs my love and attention most, Even if I don't have a career to boast. Staying at home for my child's sake is worth it I vow. Being thankful to Allah, my head goes down to bow. Why? 'cause I am a mother now. Even if my child has few toys to play, Having his mom as a playmate will make him gay. With my guidance and care he'll not go astray. I'm sure proud that I am here at home to stay. Being thankful to Allah, my head goes down to bow. Why? 'cause I am a mother now. Islam balances the roles for both husband and wife; Both offer their duties and smooth stays the carraige of life. My husband provides for the money that's true, And relieves me of the burden to find work to do So that all my zest and energy are for our child too. Being thankful to Allah, my head goes down to bow. Why? 'cause I am a mother now. Research too states that mother is the best Than leaving the baby at a day care nest. Teaching right from wrong is the parents' full time job. A child's personaltiy is made once, thus impossible to rob. Being thankful to Allah, my head goes down to bow. Why? 'cause I am a mother now. I REALLY CARE -Unknown She went home Tired and exhausted And disappointed. I didn't ask them to give me their money you know, She confided in a friend, I only asked them to do good things To be a true Muslim. And her disappointment turned into sadness It was so sad you know, She said, I just want all of us to be better, I want all of us to go to Heaven. And her sadness turned into frustration, Oh, they are ungrateful lot, She said to her friend again, After all that I have done for them, After everything that I went through for them They turned me down when I asked them to be with me. And her frustration turned into anger, They are stubborn, so stubborn, so ungrateful, How could they turn their back when I asked them to be A better Muslim? They are very very very stubborn! She whispered, and talked and cried, I care you know, She said to a friend, I really care. But don't you know? asked a friend, Allah will guide those He likes, He will guide those He chooses. Yes, I know, she said, But I really care I really love them. Yes dear, Said a friend, Not as much as Rasulullah cared for his uncle, who refused Islam till the end. He was sad, dear, said the friend, He wished for the better more than you do, He loved his uncle more than you do to them, But He didn't say things like you do now. She thought about it in silent, And thought about it again. So she went out again, and she came home, Tired and exhausted, But no longer disappointed. MORE POEMS!!! BACK