Because the light and shade
of fedora’s peepholes
like a golden mosque;
How being caught up by something
so up close
and feels of attention
Al menos algo fructífero sale de la canícula, por debajo de la fedora y sombra
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 77
BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem
Oh the Sacred Holy Mosque'
In your Shelter, every created being
Obtain their divine peace and direct path.
Oh the Sacred Holy Mosque'
Every direct call from your noble house,
Represent undoubtedly the active faith of every beginning!
Allah Khair..... Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem
Ummah Thurab - Badshah Khan.
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Tomorrow New Zealand's
beautiful sunrise won't see
some forty plus lives that they too
never expected to miss.
The rose will flower for them too
brimming with brightest hues
to colour the wind.
So are the nightingales have the lyrics
for them to sing.
Not to mention like yesterday
people around of all walks and colours
expected to greet them good morning!
Alas, it won't happen tomorrow
one openly fired at the peaceful setting.
Killed them all in one go
loved by all the humankind around
and naturally nurtured by reality!
Because we have an enemy within.
Without marking dawn
I am approaching dusk
That a vague verse
Holds my destiny
In a world full of mosques
No minaret reaches the God
No dome holds the prayer
So close to it's *****
What do you say?
To a person challenged
By drama of stars.
With nerves full of despair
In an undecided future
He has to live by hope
The crescent moon has been sighted
Lantern of hope has been ignited.
Doors of mercy have been opened
And the devils have been chained.
It is the month,
Where clusters of sin await repentance
And good deeds worth are multiplied.
In which we abstain from food
From dawn till dusk;
But tongue heavy from thikr.
Enlightened with Allah's vast mercy
And extreme prosperity,
And bathing in immense blessing.
So choose to
Break mouldy habits
Reform the fabrics.
Reboot your entity
And Recharge your faith.
Choose to strengthen the backbone of your lives;
The pillars of Islam.
Recite the book that has been bonded with threads of faith
and encrusted with pristine words of Allah.
Choose to unshackle yourself
from the blackening shackles;
Untangle from messy mirage of the world
entwined with your wrist
And braid it into ladders to heaven.
Choose to join congregation at prayers
To pray to Allah seeking his affinity
Asking for forgiveness and pray for agility.
Choose to handle tough times with sincerity
And dig faith in one another.
For strength and forgiveness
can be found under his love
And this can be the month
That can bring you a step closer to Allah.
We went to a mosque
in Tangiers; had to take
off our shoes or sandals
in her case. And it had
a certain something about
it: peacefulness and holiness
and sunlight was there and
water. And she said: I hear
that girl with the long blonde
hair had her handbag stolen
right off her shoulder; they
cut the straps; they gave chase,
but lost him the side streets.
I liked the patterns and purity
of the place. I stood gazing
around, taking it all in. So I
decided to hold my handbag
tight in my hand when I walk
around now, Miriam said.
Good idea, I said, breathing
in the atmosphere, sensing I'd
walked into a whole different
world in time: colours, patterns.
Where shall we go afterwards?
She said, I'm thirsty. We'll go
get a coke, I replied, sensing
her boredom beside me. I took
a last look around and followed
her out into the street, after getting
the shoes and sandals for our feet.
We found a place and got cokes
and French rolls and salads, and
sat and talked. She about the girl
and the thief, and I mused on her
cute *** on the seat and red painted
nails on her opened sandalled feet.
when terrorism reached its hands
into my inconsequential city
i wasn't quite sure what to think
the mosque was a place of worship
where people gather to pray and heal
but that lone wolf dropped a bomb
into that peaceful place
during their morning prayers
what possesses someone to do that?
can you tell me using the 26 letters?
can you please help me understand?
why in my city?
why in that beautiful place?
why do those who do not understand
others react with violence and hate?
can't they see the pain on the faces
of those now afraid to pray?
can't they feel it in the air?
taste it in the rain?
hear it in the wind?
because i can, and it's terrifying
this poem is based off of a real event that happened in my hometown of bloomington, minnesota at a mosque early one saturday morning.
She left the mosque, glancing back to admire
Its conforming embroidered established beauty, its
Minaret rising skywards in ******* glory, her prayers done
In unprotested segregation. In public
Only her embellished eyes were seen staring outwards
In religious line-toeing from her crow-black shroud
Her breath caught up in its funeral mummery.
All individuality shorn away by garb caught mid-way between
Oppression and conviction. Rejecting sexuality, the flirtatious
Gaze of strangers, but by doing so obsessed by that which she feared-
A world filled only with lust where displayed flesh
Is a siren’s song in a corrupt world and living a gasping lurch
Busco simple mosque
Huge monuments are useless
Carpet under shade.