"hassan" poems
THEME: INJUSTICE
A Duet by:
Hassan B. Hassan(Mr Sophy)
Opeyemi Fuad (Gemini)
❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
An unsung warrior I am
One that serve his homeland
Now left to wallow in shame
Betrayed, with no treacle -
To my broken esteem
What an injustice!!
👈Gemini👉
We doff our hat to them
Rubbing and cleaning it with their hands
We attain them the power
But they all create new edition
No to injustice!!!
👈Mr sophy👉
Preserve the nation's flag
Yet, thrown into cell
Never to see the sun rise
merry-ing with Legless rats
An unproved innocence
Government's injustice
👈Gemini👉
The baby cry out when put to bed
The dog cry out when given birth to
But we all cry out when the molecule changed
But no reaction took place
Why?
Let Justice reign!
👈Mr sophy👉
I thumbed down, on the papers
Still, my worth doesn't count
I served the government
With my heart and soul on the platter
Staked to uphold their stand
But wronged, injustice!!
👈Gemini👉
We put down our lives to save theirs
Yet they flow us with their power
Oh!what an injustice
fox government with fox Power
Justice reign!!!
👈Mr sophy👉
Thou did nothing
Than bruise our humanity
And rub it on our fresh wound,
With pepper of your injustice
Oh, an insolence!!
Despite our sacred deeds
👈Gemini👉
Indigent we are today
richer we are tomorrow
They are to keep the flag flying
Yet they make the flag vapid
No to injustice!
No to fox government
Justice we want!!
👈Mr sophy👉
©Pen of a true Gemini ™
©Mr Sophy ™
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC
When the tale of the kite wraps itself around your neck,
And yet continues to fly, freely
You should now know that freedom to one comes at a cost to the other.
But you must wonder, as Jupiter and Zeus watch this storm,
that leaves nothing more than dust in their eyes;
It's funny how kites are a symbol of freedom when they are actually tied to a glass-coated cotton string.
The same cotton, that another boy who looks directly into your eyes could have worn.
It's funny how when one side of the coin is painted in platinum
and the other side struggles to know whether it's still a coin with value as it is being corroded.
Yes, they were one coin. Once.
The tulip blooms fade before the foliage dies,
every flower that dies is not reborn
But on the land it does, is.
When the flower is no more,
the green stem still remains.
But did the flower die from the wasp
that stung its nectar and perhaps even the pollen
or did it die from the feet that stepped upon
because they were inside the duststorm that disallows them to look at the ground.
Do all flowers that die are reborn?
How many flowers can one wasp even sting?
How many times can you stomp over one flower until it has no petals but only your footprints?
As you wonder,
The tail of the kite has been detached from its throne,
You look, as you wonder, if this is freedom or that was.
And another Hassan chases it yet again.
Aug 16, 2021
Aug 16, 2021 at 3:16 PM UTC
From the House Of Ali -Najaf to the House Of Hussain-Kerbala,
Swarms of people walk 80kilometres for threes days- united,
The largest peaceful gathering in the world with free services,
An experience like no other.
Blessed are those who walk,
More blessed are those who serve.
No discrimination,
Regardless of sect, profession or social status,
Rich or poor,
Young or old,
Men or women,
In wheel chairs, crutches or with Zimmer frames,
Prams or hand carts,
All march with respect and dignity,
With one thought in mind,
To pay allegiance to Hussain,
Who sacrificed his head for humanity.
Every eye is moist,
Every heart torn in grief,
Chanting"Labbaik Ya Hussain."
With an iron will to complete the walk.
A nation, war-torn, wounded,
Embraces the whole world in the name of Hussain,
The longest dining table,
Where every zuwar is honoured and treated like royalty,
To pay in currency, none,
Only love and kindness and an urge to serve the zuwars.
Along the roadside are set up Mowakebs (tents),
That provide every kind of facilities and amenities ,
Food,beverages medicines,toiletries,
Fresh clothes if need be, shower rooms and toilets,
A massage of your feet,
Services to charge or repair your phone's,zimmer frames or prams,
Anything for the zuwars,
All in the name of the Ahle bayt,
Mohamed,Ali,Fatema,Hassan and Hussain.
What Hussain and his followers were denied is served with outstretched arms,
The aftermath of Kerbala was more tragic and callous,
The tears of Binte Zainab that retold the tragedy again and again,
Has born fruits,
The zuwars multiply in numbers
every year,
The rewards greater.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Dar Al-Hekma University hosted its second fashion show on Sunday that featured the work of its second batch of fashion design undergraduates.
The event, titled “Luminosity” was held under the auspices of Princess Reem **** Muhammad Al-Faisal. President of the university Dr. Suhair Hassan Al-Qurashi said: “Providing such events to our students before graduation exposes them to industry leaders of their prospective industries and gives them a head start in their careers.
“Dar Al-Hekma University’s students stand out because of the combination of their high caliber and the opportunities the university provides for them.”
Along with industry leaders, families of participating students attended. The event started with an opening speech by the department chair for the fashion design program Dina Kattan, who then introduced the sophomore and junior students’ work.
Afterward, models wearing three-piece collection garments designed by senior students scheduled to graduate this year took the stage and were graded by four judges.
Kattan said: “I am so proud of the work my students presented today; they worked really hard and they deserve a big hand. “Everyone was impressed with the level of creativity and attention to detail they demonstrated.”
The judges were Batool Jamjoom, businesswoman in the fashion industry and manager and owner of Jamjoom Fashion House; Amra Alabdalilsharif, director of the innovation and visual merchandising department at Rubaiyyat; Dalal Al-Hasan, a fashion designer; and Aram Kabbani, Dar Al-Hekma alumna and fashion stylist.
The grades students received during the fashion show will form part of their final grade. One of the students whose designs were featured at the show, Zahar Algain, said her collection was inspired by Mexican artist Frida Kahlo.
“Studying fashion has altered my perspective. I view fashion, in the same way that I view life; it’s a matter of balance and proportions.
“My interest in avant-garde fashion has led me to believe in using creativity to solve difficult situations. Algain’s collection was meant to blur the line between art and fashion.
“It is inspired by Frida Kahlo but with a fictional twist. “The story behind my collection is a daydream, a magical love story, an artwork; it is splattered with Frida’s colorful soul and spirit.”
Following this women only event, Dar Al-Hekma is organizing a one-day fashion design exhibition on Tuesday, which is open to all. The event starts from 7 p.m.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
Negotiating with ******
You can't.
Even if,
He disguises himself as
Bashar-al-Assad,
Taliban,
Al Shabaab,
Hassan Rouhani,
Or that ole mass murderer,
Now not such a bad guy,
We could left him alone,
Cause he didn't have WMD,
Saddam Hussein,
He just mass murdered,
The old fashioned way.
They thirst for the blood of mine.
And when satiated, they will come for you.
There will be no Mass said
Over our mass graves.
Do not pretend to lead,
When all you seek is avoid.
The historians will seek you out
And label you coward, Chamberlin.
Shall we meet at the soccer stadium
Called Ghazi, for some ice cream
And a public execution or two?
Let's make it a woman, for the extra satisfaction?
A perfect place, conducive for relaxed negotiations!
Woe us/me, when our moral compass points only
Downward,
Into the bloodied earth,
Where we will soon enough be buried too.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
-The best way to fight the fear of terrorism
is by turning off your TV screens.-
TV Terrorist.
Ladies hide your burkas!
the 1st amendment ain’t gonna protect ya
because for as little as an ignorant comment...
-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Racist slurs, misinformation and greed
are 1/2 the price of what they used to be
ACT NOW so they can see!
-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Don’t let the sirens of the fashion police disturb ya
we’ll wiretap your mosque from the city to suburbia
just grow that beard Osama style!
-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
After your Morning Joe just head over to CNN
they’re about to have some Baklawa at Fox & Friends
let’s keep feeding more hate speech to the talking heads.
-So YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Replace your Quran with the National Enquirer
so you can be as American as they are
Muhammed is not a match for Uncle Sam.
-Just wear that robe the way Jesus did
and YOU can be TV Terrorist too!
You see, turban rhymes with Taliban
therefore you’re all the same so pump our gas
brown skin clashes with the red, white & blue of our flag.
-Just make sure to look angry!
And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Sensationalism in the media is worth more than your beliefs
your good morals and spirituality is not for us to say
as long as that red dot across your forehead turns into an infrared.
-Look up Hassan! And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
From the cities of Iraq to the caves Afghanistan
ride your camel and dignity right through an EZ Pass
watch the drones drop and the ratings soar!
-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
Have a look at this intricately fashioned globe
How it has been beautified with perfect contrast
Soothing green carpet and calm blue canopy
Compels you to admire its each and every lobe
Have you ever imagined it without these colours?
How it would appear with all its ink gone…
Dull, boring and blank is a portrait without paint
Life would surely lose all its vivid flavours
Have a look at the sky, brushed with black
How it has been studded with priceless jewels
Far beyond the reach of Kings are these colours
Dazzling for the artist is this silver round on black
Have you ever imagined it to be washed off?
How it would appear with all its glitter invisible
Surely no one would bother to look above
You and I love to live due to these colours
Have a look at whatever you swallow and chew
How it has been made mouth watering for you
The perfect blend of colours tempts you to eat
Nature has already garnished all that you need
Have you ever imagined all this to be colourless
How it would appear with its blank coat
Probably no one would relish this feast
Your sense of sight might seem to be useless
Have a look at the humble king of flowers
How it has been made a symbol of love
Those red chunks resting among green carvings
So inspiring is this beauty which nature showers
As I look towards the roof of this globe
The rays of the golden ball give me hope
Colours encourage me to move despite all obstacles
I owe my existence to these conspicuous colours
Written by: Fakiha Hassan Rizvi
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 5:57 AM UTC
Appa’s demise has put a load of care on me,
The family is dependent on me,
There’s a boat leaving tomorrow night,
They say it’s the last one for this quarter,
We need to leave.
The conditions here are getting worse by the day,
The playgrounds are unrecognizable,
The schools are no longer functioning,
My friends are nowhere in sight.
They say the boat is the only option out of our land,
Tiko’s family left with the boat two months ago,
This is the time when one prefers somewhere else to home,
We really cannot miss the boat.
The sunrise makes its way through my cracked window curtain made from mother’s clothes,
But it’s only a reminder of yet another day,
I must say it looks beautiful but sad,
Every new day seems never to be different,
I hope to take steps that will not lead to my death, a loved one or a neighbour.
I heard the camp is not so great but it’s safer than here
The boat is small and there are many of us.
I am lucky because unlike Rasheed’s family;
We are just three and they are ready to fit us in the boat,
No one wants to leave their loved ones behind.
The driver starts the engine,
The journey has begun,
The journey to nowhere,
Everyone has the look of fear and uncertainty,
What lies ahead, no one can surely tell.
The boat is moving,
The sea breeze feels amazing,
Am not sure how long it will last,
Appa is dead, leaving mother and Hassan with me,
The driver says it will take all night.
We have life vests and floaters,
Mine is largely oversize,
I have not been eating properly,
I hear there is food at the destination.
The sea is calm,
The driver is whistling,
The woman sitting beside mother have been crying,
She had to leave her children behind
Again, I am very lucky.
We are getting closer and it is getting cold,
The engine does not sound right,
The driver looks panicked,
He assures everyone it’s nothing to worry about,
The tide is rising and it’s still dark,
We can see the lights at our destination
Water is getting into the boat,
Everyone is panicking,
The man beside me throws his bag into the sea and gets ready to dive,
The next person does the same,
Maybe I should do the same?
Mother and I can swim but how about Hassan who cannot?
There is a bigger boat coming,
It seems like we won’t be drowning,
I have seen my death so many times,
I am no longer scared when in danger,
The boat rescued us; we are ashore in this land where our fate will be decided
Now what?
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 6:20 PM UTC
I would have sneaked
In from the pores of a net.
I would have wrapped you in a prose
Poem that lacks precision and laid you to sleep
Under the covers of my bed.
Quietly.
So if love was to engulf me
And a longing rises from my soul
I would stretch the fingers of my hand towards
you and dabble with the words of the poem,
Letter by letter.
If I was truly a poet
I would have limped to the Lord by now
And sat by the foot of his throne
And held on to it
With both hands
And whispered: ‘you are the Greatest,
most Beautiful, most Wonderful and Capable,
Will you create a lover for me?’
I mean only for me.
But I know
That my prayer will not be answered
Not because it is impossible.
More than that really,
Since I have never known
A man
Who has never betrayed his lover.
*************************
Translated by Dikra Ridha
© Copyright 2016, by Faleeha Hassan. All rights reserved under the Copyright laws of the United States of America and international copyright agreements. No portion of this book maybe reproduced in any form, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Email: [email protected]
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
Born in a remote village somewhere in the North
Yaro
Where the fulanli herdsmen twirl sticks as they guard cattles
Yaro
Makes one remember that boy in the bible who tended to his father's sheep all day
Yaro
Life was rosy, bed warm and cosy.
Mother was called "Mama" and age stricken father was "abba".
I sometimes wondered who matchmaked them
Mother looked like she was babysitting the world
Father looked like he was going to die any minute
But they loved me and that was all my infant mind wanted
For you see I was nothing but a
Yaro.
I loved the mornings, when goats where being let out of sheds
And I ran around the huts in our compounds
In between my father's leg and over my mother's lap
Bowls of koko and ***** of kosai couldn't quieten me.
I never knew your breakfast of "Kellogs varieties" or
One apple a day, to keep the doctor at bay.
For you see I was nothing but a
Yaro.
But I was alright or so I thought.
The afternoons were spent chasing Hassan and Hussein
Those "wicked" twins who would not allow our chickens rest
My world was coloured brown, brown goats, brown huts
Brown sand, brown faces and maybe brown hearts.
Brown was the only colour in the world except of course
The sky, which was blue sometimes and white at other times.
One day, when you were still in homes covered with zinc
Father pulled me out of bed and handed me over to some fierce looking men
Mother wouldn't look at me, Hassan and Hussein stood far away.
Father was the one holding me so I knew he was not dead yet.
He handed me my new pair of slippers and pointed to the men
"They'll teach you life," he said.
"But.." I replied only to be cut short by the sting of a slap
"You're nothing but a..."
"Yaro", I replied.
So this was it..I was leaving me behind.
Mother hid behind her layers of clothing like a coward
Father stood proud like an English man
I stood with all of them around me feeling nothing
But what my Yaro mind allowed me to feel.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:42 AM UTC
My innocence nudges me
As she points to the creases of my bedding on the ground.
While the bed itself, with the imbecility of its sheets,
Lies rejected in the corner of the room.
My parents’ smiles widen with the stupidity of the covers.
They alone, and the bed
proved to me my innocence and the idiocy of a tidy bed.
Even if I inherited the furniture, children
And the creases under the eyes,
Every time my bed rubs in the carpet’s weave,
I am still baffled by the wideness of their smiles,
As I lie between my children
On a stupid, tidy bed.
By Faleeha Hassan
Translated by Dikra Ridha
© Copyright 2016, by Faleeha Hassan. All rights reserved under the Copyright laws of the United States of America and international copyright agreements. No portion of this book maybe reproduced in any form, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Email: [email protected]
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
Spare Flower
The African night is beautiful,
In fact, it is divine’
Says the lady, visiting Iraq.
So I announce
I am the one leaving with your ignorance,
With minimum skin and a fractured soul.
The city is an adjective
And I have only my words.
This life eliminates the vocal paths from your being.
There is only departure
And my name was fitted to me.
I became the trustee of verse,
The spare flower;
The one talented in what has not yet been written.
No.
It never was
And never will be
That I form poems for you,
Grow them inside you,
Or write them in coercion.
So beat as you wish.
I am done with living in denial
I choose another life.
Madam,
my bed and the graveyard of my joy;
I crave with my longing the scent of water
but its stench pushes me away
to the gloom of the snow of *Afyon,
the coughing of its chimneys,
the doubts of its elderly’s stumbling steps,
and squeals of the bones of trees
.
Translated by Dikra Ridha
*Afyon is a town in the mountains of Turkey; it is where the poet was exiled.
…………………………
It is published in (ScreaminMams) magazine march 2016
© Copyright 2016, by Faleeha Hassan. All rights reserved under the Copyright laws of the United States of America and international copyright agreements. No portion of this book maybe reproduced in any form, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Email: [email protected]
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
Let me unbotton
The scarf of the feelings
Behind your chest
The layers of mirage
That filled you with mist
The fetters around your *****
And let me try
To break your shield
On the rips of truth
On the lips of the lightening words
In the middle of the night
I want to creep so deep
And reach your glass of thought
That keeps you afar
At the doors of the facts
To watch your limbs
Striding the moon
And beam with pleasure
In the eyes of the young
So tightly clung
To the sides of the river
That springs in your heart
With dispatch
That is born in brains afresh
To start from scratch
Poem by/ Hassan Mohammed Alemrany
Egypt
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC
To be a refugee
Means you walk with a mute dignity
And because the touch has a memory, you can no longer make another one,
No sea can reveal to you the joy of its flowing and its every wave is shackled with corpses and identities of drowned people, no land will welcome your shy steps.
To be a refugee
You have to wear a stainless smile in front of their serrated gaze.
You have to get rid of your ancient history,
Your mother's prayer for your safety, which no longer works
The wisdom of your ancestors, which they left to you before they disappeared into their graves.
To be like me,
You have to peel off your skin, pull out your tongue in order to get along with the crowds that are waiting for any slight movement from you to finish you off.
Above you have to be very sane in the streets that know nothing but where madness erupts,
And like swimming in a river of blood, you will remain stained until the end.
Faleeha Hassan
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 3:55 PM UTC
I was lost
but now im here
hiding in the shadows full of fear
running in the dark can not breath
i maybe home
but i can not see
but then a light came
oh so beautiful
those eyes that smile
lighten the room
they show me my future
is it death
no it is love
- zaman hassan
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
~~~
Amidst the pulchritude angel i found her
Her beaming smiles fade away my sorrow
Her glowing visage keep away my anguish
And her witty saying widen my motion.
In her gentle hands have grown up
Her beauty strike my soul like thunder
Under the shadow of fate I live
But Paradise I feel when with you.
Your love is what have ever felt
Your life is what I desire for
In the ocean of your love I swim
Awelewa my rare spouse.
Awelewa! Love me for who am I
My flaws a daily correction
Till infinity you shall be mine
With you I feel the best.
©®Hassan B.Hassan
Sophy.
Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 10:05 AM UTC