Connect with us

Islamic Art

MM Arts | Poetry Day | 1-7-11

Published

Welcome, it\’s our monthly Poetry day again! If you want to share your verses with everyone here, kindly email us at poetry[@]muslimmatters[.]org stating your name, along with your poem. As soon as your poem is selected for publishing, we\’ll let you know so that you can keep an eye out for it, Insha\’Allah. JazakumAllahu khayr for sending in your poems!

Without further ado, here are the three lovely poems we\’ve selected for today…

________________________________________________________

The Self
by Saad Muhammad Ismail

Keep supporting MuslimMatters for the sake of Allah

Alhamdulillah, we're at over 850 supporters. Help us get to 900 supporters this month. All it takes is a small gift from a reader like you to keep us going, for just $2 / month.

The Prophet (SAW) has taught us the best of deeds are those that done consistently, even if they are small. Click here to support MuslimMatters with a monthly donation of $2 per month. Set it and collect blessings from Allah (swt) for the khayr you're supporting without thinking about it.

Gone are the days of intellectual rhetoric,
Ineffectively contentious, unproductive and overly problematic.

Lets not get carried away, quibbling over semantics,
Lets not indulge in pointless intellectual gymnastics.
To positively engage is the need of the hour,
So let aside all prejudice, preconceived notions,
And  let empathy overpower.

Who are ‘you\’, my dear reader?
A biological byproduct or an outcome of social pressure?
Who are ‘you\’, my dear reader, if not,
A pre-planned, programmed ‘Robot\’.

Is this truly ‘you\’, or are you more,
Contemplate this now, if you haven\’t before.

Let not ‘yourself\’ be defined by societal norms,
If indeed you are more, than just someone who apprehensively conforms.

Know that your ‘intellectual convictions\’ will be in vain,
If, for Truth, you are unprepared to stand pain.

You need to stand up for what you believe to be true,
And instead of reacting to context, allow it to react to you!

The bulk of humanity,
Seeks to hide and avoid its reality.
Trying to hide from its own confrontations,
Hiding away in masks and impersonations.

Let me draw your attention,
To the crux of my contention,

As to all things in life, there are two distinct dimensions:
(a) ‘The Facts\’ and (b) ‘Our Interpretations\’.

Understand that these are two separate spheres to begin with,
For without this realization, we would be entertaining a myth,
A forlorn drama, Rehearsed and reiterated,
Fueling the Ego, which forever remains unsated.

Lets be honest and humble enough,
To make the indispensable differentiation,
Between ‘Facts\’ and our ‘Interpretations\’.
For, while facts remain ever unchangeable,
Our interpretations are always manageable.

But what are ‘Our Interpretations\’ based on ultimately,
If not, our conceptions of who we are, in reality.

Transcend the confines of social structures,
Do not settle for mere conjectures,
Probe into the depths of your mind,
And define ‘yourself\’, lest you be defined.

Thus understanding yourself better,
Breaking free from every normative fetter,

Know your created self, Know your Creator!

“Do not become like those who forget God and God makes them forget
themselves. It is they who are truly deprived.” [Quran; Surah Hashr 59:19]

_______________________________________________________________________________

Islam. the Sibghah (Color) of Allah
By Sabeen Mansoori
The oceans dried up
Not one but two,
But the words of my Lord written were few

Each drop of Divine ink
Each letter, each word
Their uncharted depths few have explored

“Sibghatullah”
The Colors of Allah
Dye yourself in them and attain falah

The hues of humility
The perfect tints of gratitude
The gait, the speech, the right attitude

In the style
Of the Nabi(saw) and the blessed few
They strive but they smile as if Jannah they view

Intense in their devotion
Their obedience glows
In the darkest of nights spent bowed low

Not like chameleons
They change their colors, or discard
When the going gets tough, or the opposition hard

Their deen dyed deep
Not washed away
By the changing tides of culture, or fashion\’s sway

Awash in divine recitation
They persist and depend
On none
But the One

At peace in the knowledge
That blessed they are
To be drenched in
‘Sibghatullah\’
The Colors of Allah

______________________________________________________________________________________

Untitled poem
by Muhammad Zakaria Suleman

He washed his body
And Applied perfume

Lightly passed his finger tips over the cover
As if he was blind.

Turned over
To ‘The Opening\’ chapter.

And burst into tears
That flooded his Heart.

Softened his Might
And opened his Mind.

The curvature of a single letter
Leading to a Straight Path.

A path that flowed;
From a selfless Heart.

 

Share
Tweet
WhatsApp
Reddit
0 Shares
Keep supporting MuslimMatters for the sake of Allah

Alhamdulillah, we're at over 850 supporters. Help us get to 900 supporters this month. All it takes is a small gift from a reader like you to keep us going, for just $2 / month.

The Prophet (SAW) has taught us the best of deeds are those that done consistently, even if they are small. Click here to support MuslimMatters with a monthly donation of $2 per month. Set it and collect blessings from Allah (swt) for the khayr you're supporting without thinking about it.

Related Topics:

Ameera is a final-year medical student and blogger based in Karachi, Pakistan. Having been born and raised in Tabuk, Saudi Arabia, her approach towards her Deen has always been rooted in a basic understanding from authentic sources, which was further polished during a three-year weekend course at Al Huda Institute. Her interests, though, seem to know no bounds and range from a passion for the culinary arts and travelling, as well as following current affairs and global happenings. She feels being able to be part of MuslimMatters is one of the major blessings of Allah(swt) upon her, for it has given her a chance to learn and grow. She also maintains her personal blog at http://duskanddawn.wordpress.com.

7 Comments

7 Comments

  1. Ahmad

    July 2, 2011 at 12:24 PM

    Until I see You
    by Ammar AlShukry

    You’re the best person I’ve ever known, the best friend I’ve never met
    Your sincerity to me is blinding enough to completely canvas the world around me
    with drapes that read, respect, honor, focus, protect…
    and leaving a window so that I can zoom in on the important things,
    and yet those are the things that I forget, or neglect,
    …I will do better.

    Your Ummah is fine, not because of me or mine, or wounds that heal with time,
    those who’d die for a dollar sign, but because of promises divine,
    and so when we feel that we’re at our worst,
    and our sadness would cause our hearts to burst,
    it feels like there are times,
    when there are angels within our lines.
    Or maybe hovering over squares,
    with chants of freedom in the air,
    And though tyrants step on our necks
    We smile…for history has always been on our side..
    Yours is an Ummah that simply doesn’t die…

    I’m sorry for my weakness.
    For every time I’ve been ashamed of your name, and asked someone to call me Mo,
    For not knowing enough about you to defend you when they drew cartoons, or accused you with the most heinous of accusations…
    For not getting over my distaste of reading and waiting for hollywood to put you on the big screen so I can know about you.
    As if Steven Spielberg, Mel Gibson, and Johnny Depp could somehow recreate the twinkle in your eye,or a beautiful bead of sweat as it scaffolds on your forehead, frantically fighting gravity not wanting to fall off your body.

    I keep thinking of seeing you, and wonder if you would smile at me…
    the thought gives me goosebumps…
    You told me to meet you at the pool, so on that day, I hope and pray
    that I can see you through the crowd,
    that no angels barricade me as I sprint at break neck speed,
    I hope you recognize it’s me.
    I will crowd the companions to get access to your vision.
    I will obey my thirst and quench it from your hand, so until that day I will pray…
    I will stand and I will pray, as if my feet are holding the earth from splitting.

    If I make it, I cry at the thought of seeing you.
    For I know the words that I used to read out of all too thin pages,
    will do no justice, to your face, your scent, your touch, your voice.
    My Messenger of Allah has always existed between the curves and dots of the
    Arabic alphabet, So Muhammad ibn Abdillah in 3D and whatever other dimensions the hereafter brings with it, will be an overboard of senses.
    I will fall in love with your shadow,
    and will tell Ali that his description did not do justice,
    and tell my mother Aisha, that we heard her story of how you passed away between her chin and her chest, over and over and over again,
    and it made us cry every single time.
    For there was no disaster that we suffered more
    than what we suffered before our souls merged with flesh,
    of entering an Earth that was without you,

    Does the sky even recognize us anymore…
    And I will sit in the shade of your smile,
    and ask you your story directly from your mouth,
    as we sip from Salsabil, ice cold,
    and would be deeply embarrassed if you asked me for mine,

    Cuz I never did anything right, other than loving you
    and then…if you let me, I would love…
    for a hug.

    Reply

  2. SisterinDeen

    July 2, 2011 at 1:27 PM

    Masha’Allah much talent and thoughts from these poems
    Congrats to the three :)

    Reply

  3. Muhammad Zakaria Suleman

    July 3, 2011 at 6:49 AM

    Subhanallah,

    The Poem is Titled ‘He Opened the Qur’an’

    May Allah bless us all :)

    Reply

  4. Abez

    July 6, 2011 at 3:01 AM

    The curvature of a single letter
    Leading to a Straight Path.

    Loved this line, JazakAllahukheiran!

    Reply

    • Saad

      July 8, 2011 at 5:35 PM

      I second that!

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Trending