"spritual" poems
Iraq,a war torn country,
Amidst tight security,
Through a jungle of barricades,
And through a throng of people one must wade,
To reach the shrine of Imam Hussain.
At his shrine lies heaven,
A paradise that defies description,
Around you a jostling crowd, mourning,
Chanting his name and beseeching,
Yet,all noise is lost, no barrier,
Only you and Hussain the martyr.
You are at peace,
A Spritual bliss,
As the bars' of his shrine you kiss,
He listens,to him nothing is amiss,
What you have come for you will be granted,
No One leaves empty handed.
Time spent at his shrine,
Is divine.
Lost in his spirituality so intense,
Sudden shouts of the guards bring you to your sense,
"Move, move, make way",
As you leave you promise yourself to return another time or day.
That is the spritual power of Hussain,
That pulls you to his shrine again and again.
25/7/2019.
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 6:33 AM UTC
Believe it or not,
I come from a conservative Islamic family,
My Life is based on Islamic principles,
But,I don't feel caged,
In fact, I feel at peace,calm and safe.
Home is where you live,
Home life is on the principles of Faith in Allah,
And its two arms patience and gratitude to HIM.
Trust, kindness and above all respect for each other is a must,
A visitor who knocks on your door is as good as an angel,
He should be greeted and treated with courtesy,
Greetings create a bond in the name of Allah,
Parents are our peers and given utmost respect,
We never speak out of context to them.
Breakfast,lunch and dinner is a family affair,
We all sit on the floor in a circle with a big aluminium thaal (plate) in the middle,
And partake our portion of food from there,
Before eating we begin with Bismillah and a pinch of salt.
Women cover their heads all the time with a dupatta,
When they go out they wear a hijab.
Women are prohibited to talk loudly but some do,
What goes behind close doors between a husband and wife should remain between them,
Not to wash the ***** linens in public.
Music is not allowed in islam but most of us do,
A Muslim must pay part of his earnings as zakat (charity).
From birth till death our lives depend on the sound advise of our Spritual Leader,
I am delighted I have somebody to guide me,
He makes sure each and every community member is provided with lunch,
So no one goes to sleep hungry,
Most of all festivals are community based gatherings so no one is alone,
I am the lucky one,not imprisoned.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC
................truth..
once..... set free,
.....can cry,
joy ....or havoc
or the reams
......of the thesaurus
........in...between...
the choice.....
is in ..
...the hand of ....the scribe
and ......the heart from
which... the ink ......begins
it's.... souful journey..
...spritual....intellectual,
....intertwined....
set free...
to
touch...
another mind....
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Just try to understand the contact of eyes
No words are needed to express that how much I love
In your absence do you feel much my heart cries
Every second without you seems like years
But heart can't tolerate such tears
Love teaches new standards
Without it every sweet dish seems blander
Love is the religion
but now love is smidgen
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But you can still find true love in me... For my cute Angel
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
How empowering it is to be able to sprinkle
Just the amount of turmeric powder,
And to know just how much of a pinch,
Is that pinch of salt and coriander,
Which'll swirl around together in sputtering oil,
Dancing with crisp bay leaves and cloves,
Bathing in the crimson of finely ground chilli,
Forming a fragrance engulfing the sacred stove,
The fragrance that defines every hand that cooks,
Each concoction of spices distinctly set apart
By infinite proportions of masalas and herbs,
Carving infinite routes of satisfying the heart,
The kitchen is the powerhouse of a home,
And the ones who man it are technologists
Who day after day, create curry that reaches
Not just the gut but the self of who consumes it,
It is only when you stand, teaspoon in hand,
While lightly brown onions look up to you in anticipation
Do you realise that forming food is no simple, menial task
It is a scientific, artistic and spritual exploration.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
an octopus.
its soul lodged deep in its throat.
an arm sent down
to seek and retrieve.
another forced down,
annoyed by its attempt
at a spritual quest,
chokes until the other 6
are a set of limp waste.
the soul melts back into the water
and the salt.
the body becomes
no more than sand.
the color of a rock;
predators see,
but know:
they are no match
for the true enemy.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
Opening minds from my universal lines
Tooken from outta space time
Ya know I'm
Always traveling at light speeds
Indeed since I was a prodigy breed
Fools make it hard for me to breath
But I opened room once I let my nine squeeze
Silently I see my enemies fall asleep reap
What ya sow straight from heavens door
I was destined for war made out poor
First finished last
Last is the first when it comes to thirst
Rich man's dry from all of the material high
Luxury livin can't even see his own sinnin'
Devils is grinning listening
But his soul ain't dwelling
With the poor I'm see em strugglin just for por-ridge **** near empty fridge look what the system did
Barely makin with the kids
Broke off the rich mans bid
As the prices rise I telepath to graph
My natural high in a spritual tie
No lie but it lies
With in the message huh
While the troops grounded for government loot
In the cities they shoot
Intelligence mute give us the boot
But at the same time got chemicals to swoop
Down in my neighborhood there I stood
Once on the block as a child wild
Young n crazy
Thought this world was made for me
But I wasn't ready seen to many
Brothers go to the penitentiary
Along with the eses I could write an essay
I'm going down like mayday say say
Didn't mean to stutter
Ask for help but folks love to shutter
You out they life acting strife
Positioned the knife
So they can back stab ya then leave ya
Bleeding to ya last breath
Opened arms for death
Take a flight of the steps
On the Stairway to heaven
Injured on the fifth
Died on the sixth but resurrected on the seventh
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
When it comes across valentine
Everyone says that I want mine
Wanna have more flowers
More gifts
More superfacial
But who cares
The talking
The joking
The laughing
The spritual time spending
The drowning into hearts
Clearly who do care?
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC