From: Ahmed M Hashim Ahmed.M.Hashim-1@tc.umn.edu
******************
MY BELOVED
******************
There was a time in my youth,
When Islam was only a custom.
They said "say La IIaha IIIa Allah,..
And pray, you'll go to Heaven."
****************************************************
Ah, how simple, no struggle in this,
Just a word, and simple act.
Thereafter I'm absorbed in this world again,
With my 'assured' place in Paradise intact.
*****************************************************
But this was not to be my fate
For ALLAH chose to guide my heart.
I learnt of a man who struggled so hard
When his mission was from the start.
******************************************************
The story of someone who had morals,
Spoke gently, kindness he knew.
Never fearing to say what's right,
His conviction in ISLAM was true.
******************************************************
The touch of his hand was as soft as silk
To comfort a crying child.
To mend his clothes, or do the chores,
Never complaining, he always smiled.
******************************************************
A living he made with his bare hands,
The same that held his mighty sword.
Valour shone from the edge of his blade,
******************************************************
His smell was always of musk,
And cleanliness he kept at his best.
Stark contrast with the heroes of today,
Who stink of beer and sweat.
******************************************************
He held the hands of his companions.
Unashamed to play with many children.
So modest, so humble, a perfect example,
That strangers could not recognise him.
******************************************************
His eyes slept little for nights were precious,
His prayers he treasured much greater.
To pray Tahajjud in the depths of night,
Seeking forgiveness, and nearness to his Creator.
******************************************************
He broke his tooth for me at Uhud,
And bled for me at Ta'if.
He cried for me, tears of concern,
Just so I could have this belief.
******************************************************
His enemies admired his teachings,
Uniting every religion, every clan.
Till ISLAM came to every corner of the world,
O, but indeed he was only a man.
******************************************************
To own a house, or build his wealth
Was not his main priority.
To establish ISLAM was more essential,
To bring us under a Higher Authority.
******************************************************
Don't you want him to plea for your case,
When before ALLAH-The Judge-you stand?
Don't you wish to be around his fountain,
A burning desire to drink from his hand?
******************************************************
So I love him more than all creation,
My Leader, my Humble Prophet.
Muhammad (SAWS) was a mercy to all mankind,
And to me, he is ************
MY BELOVED !
************
From: Ibrahim Nael Abdella N_IBRAH1@tuna.stmarys.ca
I thought you might add this to your poem page you can also find some other poems at http://www.ccn.cs.dal.ca/~ap692/poems.html
{This poem in loving memory of Khubayb, is reputedly composed by the Muslim poet Hassan Ibn Thabit, and is hailed in Arabic literature as a masterpiece. The charm of the original language and its lilt is impossible to convey in translation}
The enemy allies have converged on me,
incited their clansmen to muster strength;
They've invited their women and children to see,
and tied me to a solid trunk.
To Allah I complain of my loneliness and suffering;
Of enemies who surround me to rejoice at my death.
O Master of the Mighty Throne, grant me strength ,
To bear what they are doing to me;
Piercing my flesh and tearing my limbs.
They gave me a choice to turn away from Thee,
But death is preferrable to that;
That very thought of which brings tears to my eyes,
Not the pain they inflict on me.
I am not afraid of death, for some day everyone has to die;
But I shudder out of fear for the fire of Hell,
for the fury of its flames.
These limbs of mine are a sacrifice for Allah,
Hoping He'll bless every limb offered in His way.
So long I die a Muslim, I don't regret a thing,
For My death will occur in Allah's way.
{ At every piercing stab of their sharp spears he chanted:
La-ilaha-illal-aa Muhamma-dararasul-lah,
until his noble soul fled from his body in search of his Lord,
to complain of the tyranny of his tormentors.}
From: sabri@mail.ajman.ac.ae (sabri)
A woman was waiting at the airport one night,
With several long hours before her flight.
She hunted for a book in the airport shop,
Bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.
She was engrossed in her book, but happened to see,
That the man beside her, as bold as could be,
Grabbed a cookie or two from the bag between,
Which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene
She read, munched cookies, and watched the clock,
As the gustly "cookie thief" diminished her stock
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,
Thinking, "If I wasn't so nice, I'd blacken his eye!"
With each cookie she took, he took one too.
When only one was left, she wondered what he'd do.
with a smile on his face and a nervous laugh,
He took the last cookie and broke it in half.
He offered her half, and he ate the other.
She snatched it from him and thought, "Oh brother,
This guy has some nerve, and he's also so rude,
Why, he didn't even show any gratitude!"
She had never known when she had been so galled,
And sighed with relief when her flight was called.
She gathered her belongings and headed for the gate,
Refusing to look at the "thieving ingrate".
She boarded the plane and sank in her seat,
Then sought her book, which was almost complete.
As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise.
There were her bag of cookies in front of her eyes!
"If mine are here," she moaned with despair.
"Then the others were his and he tried to share!"
Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,
That she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief!!!!
From: Ibrahim Nael Abdella N_IBRAH1@tuna.stmarys.ca
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
when 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
Anonymous
From: Rashid Khan rkhan@ee.tufts.edu
To A Non-Muslim Woman
When you look at me
All that you can see
is the scarf that covers my hair
My words you can't hear
because you're too full of fear,
mouth gaping, all you do is stare
You think it's not my choice
in your own "liberation" rejoice.
You think I'm uneducated,
trapped, oppressed and subjugated,
You're so thankful that you're free.
But non-Muslim woman 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
those are devices for pain and hurt.
I'm not falling for that little plan.
I'm a person with ideas and thought.
I'm not for sale, I can't be bought.
I'm me - not a fancy toy,
I won't decorate anyone's arm,
nor be promoted for my charm.
There is more to be 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.
Always jumping to a male agenda
competing on his terms.
No job share, no creche facilities,
no feeding and nappy changing amenities
No time off for menstrual pain,
"hormones" they laugh "what a shame"
No equal pay equal skill
your job they can always fill.
No promotion unless you're sterilised.
No promotion unless you're sexually terrorised.
And this is liberation?
Non-Muslim woman 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 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?
From a Muslim Woman
From: Mohammad Kamal mk2@mail.idt.net
I wonder........................
If Prophet Muhammad (SAW) visited you, just for a day or two
If he came unexpectedly, I wonder what you would do?
Oh I know you would give your nicest room,
to such an honored guest
And you would surely serve him, your very very best.
You would be your finest, cause you're glad to have him there
That serving him in you're home, would be a joy without compare.
But when you see him coming, would you meet him at the door
With your arms outstretched in welcome,
for your respected visitor.
Or would you run to change your clothes, before you let him in
And hide some magazines to put the Quran, where they had been?
Would you still watch those movies, on your TV set
Or would you switch it off, before he gets terribly upset.
Would you turn off the radio, and hope that he had not heard
And wish that you did not sing, that song word by word?
Would you hide your worldly things,
and instead take the Hadith books out
Could you let him walk right in, or would you rush about?
And I wonder...if the Prophet (SAW) spent, a day or two with you
Would you go on doing the things, that you always do?
Would you go right on and say the things, that you always say
Would life for you continue, as it does from day to day.
Would your family conversations, keep up their usual pace
And would you find it hard at 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, to say your Fajr 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 (SAW) 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 at last he has gone.
It might be interesting to know,
the things that you would really do
If Prophet Muhammad (SAW) came, to spend some time with you.
(Author unknown)
From: "Ali R. Shah" eusshal@mdw.ericsson.se
Where is her grave?
The Muslims have been deeply pained.
Their beloved prophet has passed away.
And especially for his kith and kin,
it is one of their lives' saddest day.
A lady who happens to be his daughter,
above all, is the most afflicted one.
She was the nearest to her father.
Alas! Her troubles have just begun.
What in the Prophet's eyes was her status,
unfortunately the people shall forget.
She should be respected by all of us.
But a harsh treatment, she'll be met.
Everyone had heard her father say,
"My daughter is a part of me".
For her safety he would often pray;
Not wanting her to bear any agony.
But his words fell on deaf ears
as his followers were lead astray.
And were realized those worst fears,
because his tidings were disobeyed.
Each forthcoming day brings her sorrow
and only a few more months she'll live.
Each night she worries about her woes.
Her tormentors, she may not forgive.
In her last days, she is seen weeping.
Awake all night, she seldom sleeps.
Of her troubles, she keeps thinking.
The wounds in her heart are so deep.
The thoughts of her father alone
cause tears from her eyes to flow
and what will happen to her children?
What fate do they have in stow?
"Be kind to them and take care",
she wills about her poor children,
because she'll be no longer near
and they'll soon be orphans.
As she spends the time crying,
her neighbors come and complain.
But look! She is already dying.
Their complaint will be in vain.
And that dark moment finally comes,
for her heavenly abode, she departs.
Holding back their tears, her children,
see baba leaving with a heavy heart.
Hands trembling and with great anguish,
he takes away her coffin during the night.
And he makes sure to fulfill her last wish.
She will rest, out of everyones' sight.
Has gone from this world forever,
the mother of children so brave!
But why was she buried in a manner
that no one knows, where is her grave?
14th Jamadiul Awwal, 1413.
Sayyid Ali Rizwan Shah
From: Kashif Khan kashkhan@worldchat.com
THE COLD WITHIN
Six humans trapped by circumstances,
in bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
or so the story told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,
the first man held his back,
for,of the faces around the fire,
he noticed one man black.
The next man looking across the way,
saw one not of his church,
and couldn't bring himself
to give the fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes
he gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use,
to warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back
and thought of the wealth he had in store,
and how to keep what he had earned
from the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge
as the fire passed from his sight,
for all he saw in his stick of wood,
was a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group
did naught except for gain,
giving only to those who gave,
was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death's still hand,
was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without,
they died from the cold within.
Some Poems by : sabri@ajman.ac.ae
Faithful star
Once I looked up to the sky
in the night and I saw
bright star sparkling there
in the darkness of the night
and I said who are you?
what are you doing over there
tell me please,
tell me who put you over there
she looked down at me
with a smile on her face
like a rose in the shadow of the bush
little one don't you know?
why it is that I am standing over here?
it is Allah who made me
and made you and the earth
then I said pretty one
tell me please tell me how
how to be just like you
very pure, very high, very nice
once again pretty face shined again
little one listen well
little one take good care
fear Allah every where
worship him night and day
then I said pretty face pray for me to Allah
I thank you pretty face
I love you for your care
Migration
When the prophet immigrated
he was calling for Allah
no hot desert, no cold night
manage to stop that holly man
when the faithful Abu-baker
was his help along the way
don't you wary, don't be sad
Allah never turned them down
they carried on until the end
until Islam had dominated
it is a journey of its kind
it changed the history of mankind
praise be to Allah
he gives victory to Islam
The greatest
Allah is great
he is my creator
he is my sustainer
we should follow what he says
because Allah is great
look around you and see
the butterfly and the bee
fly around, fly so high
they thank Allah
because Allah is great
Prayers
I am praying to Allah
Every day, every night
To guide me straight, no left, no right
to grant my soul a peace of mind
to shine his light into my heart
to teach me the things that are right
to show his mercy, to show me his care
I always pray to Allah
love
I love Allah and the prophet
and the sahaba and my parents
all my brothers, all my sisters
who love Allah and the prophet
O' you muslims love each other
pray to Allah, pray together
don't follow the shaitan
remember the Quran
who teaches you to love each other
Allah tells us we are brothers
like a bunch of beautiful flowers
that is the way to become pious
From: Ando
***OPERATION DEATH ***
By G.H.E Vanker
It was 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 prepense!"
The Angel knocked again and again,
"Friend! I'll take your life without a pain,
'It is your soul 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 your 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, 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 commands I never obeyed
nor five times a day I ever prayed.
A Ramadan came and Ramadan went but
no time had I to repent."
"The Haj 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 Qur'an I will obey,
I'll begin Salat this very day.
My Fast and Haj, 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 cannot go against His commands.
Death is ordained for everyone,
father, mother, daughter or son."
"I'm afraid, this moment is your 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 and more,
Never did you, your people adore.
Your parents, you did not obey,
hungry beggars, you turned away."
"Your two ill-gotten, female offsprings,
in night-clubs, for livelihood they sing.
Instead of making more Muslims,
you made your children non-Muslims."
"You ignored the Mu'athin's Athaan,
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 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 for you 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,
you never know, your end may be near.
Change your living and make amends,
for heaven, on your deeds depends.
With du'a
Wassalamu'alaikum wa Rahmatullah wa Barakatuh
====================================
"Life is such a wonderful gift......"
From: Farhan Syed fsyed@jaguar.ir.miami.edu
Word of God (11/94)
By the Sun, the moon, the stars, and galaxies
By the Heaven and Earth
By the mountains, the hills, the valleys, the plains,
the desserts, and canyons
By the ocean, the seas, the lakes, the rivers, and the streams
Lies the Word of God.
Iqra! (11/94)
Iqra! To pray for forgivness from Allah SWT
Iqra! To learn the vast amount of knowledge bestowed to us
Iqra! To know what the future is in store for you
Iqra! To seek the sole pleasure of Allah SWT
Iqra! To reap the fruits of what Allah SWT has given us
Iqra! To understand the principles of Islam
Iqra! To love Allah SWT, because it is he who we came from
and he to whom we return
Iqra! To be blessed with the Holy Qu'ran.
Iqra!
Utopia (11/92)
I dreamt of a place filled with peace and happiness
This place reminded me of tranquility, pacificity,
relaxation, and joy
It was a place where bickering, hostilities,
and evils ceased to exist.
It was a place where the old ones speak of,
but cannot see until their departure.
It was a place where the pure ones are admitted,
and the dark ones denied.
The law of this land is love.
It is love that makes you functional.
It is love that decided your fate.
It is love that allows ou to be rich.
It is love that procudes your kindness.
It is love that grants you life until the next day.
And to gain this love is to hate evil.
We must realize that our place in this world is limited,
and we must make the most with what little we have with us.
Destroy the differences and unite together so that we,
the denizens of this world,
can live in peace and harmony.
But most importantly, we can reach
.... HEAVEN.
From: Faraz Fareed Rabbani frabbani@chass.utoronto.ca
Assalaamaualaikum
It's been 4 and a half hours now,
since she told me what she did.
"I'm going this way,
and you're going that."
And brothers, it's been like an eternity.
I don't why it hurts so much,
since this was the second time around.
But I guess we all must remember:
"Whatever was going to hit us was going to hit,
and whatever was going to miss us was going to miss.
And whatever hit us was not going to miss,
and whatever missed us was not going to hit."
So I ask Allah,
to forgive me,
and pardon her,
and bless us both in the paths we take,
and to bring us nearer to Him by them,
and to never let us go astray.
I pray that all my dua's that I made for this,
that Allah has answered them all...
waiting,
waiting for me in Jannah, Insha'Allah.
And that when I see these treasures stored up for me then there,
I will be among those who exclaim:
"Ah! Would that that there remained not one of my prayers,
that had ever been answered in the dunya!"
From: "Mohamed, Sameem" Sameem.Mohamed@alliedsignal.com
Subject: A story of an Iraqi Baby (fwd)
This Poem was published in Attahaddi about two years ago.It tells the
sad story of the children of Iraq. Read it, think about it and take
action. Save the children.
Arab American Democratic Committee. ebeid123@bellatlantic.net.
********Lift the embargo ****** Save the Children ************
TO THE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD
This is the story that must be told
of an Iraqi baby, not very old.
Lying in her crib one star lit night
How could she know of those planes in flight?
She lay there quietly touching her nose,
Watching her mobile, wiggling her toes,
Oohing and cooing, so sweetly is she,
Talking to someone, who could it be?
An angel is standing with her in the room.
The baby is smiling, unaware of her doom.
The crib starts to shake and the mobile goes round.
And suddenly comes a most deafening sound.
The ceiling drops in, in a second or two ...
On top of her crib so she ceases to coo ...
No one knows how long she lie there
Who thought about it? doesn't anyone care?
Is she alive? is she dead? Is she in any pain?
Now that you mention it, who knows her name?
Her name is Amal. In English we say Hope.
Crushed between the rubble,her tiny fingers start to grope.
Where is my mommy? I love her so dear
Come, get me mommy! It's dark in here!
I'm scared and I'm hungry and I can't see my feet.
There's blood in my mouth! Give me something to eat!
Where is my daddy? Where's my big brother?
It hurts when I breath! Where is my mother?!
How long have I been here? Is this just a dream?
I open my mouth, but can't even scream.
That angel appears once again to my side,
This time with a tear I plead Why have I died?
Am I alone in my sufferings? No, there are many others.
In our grief and our misery, we are sisters and brothers.
Who are we? I ask you ... for what crime did we die?
They're throwing a party! Doesn't anyone cry?!
Is it True? Am I nothing?! How could it be?
Don't they also have babies, just like me?
It is war they say, of which death is part.
How blind they've become, How hardened of heart.
Did someone say hero? To whom do they speak?
A victory claimed for killing the weak?!
Why are they happy? Why are they proud?
Don't they know that I'm cold in my burial shroud?!
No war has been won; No ifs, buts, or maybes,
They've Only Killed Babies!!!!
Signed Me,
An Iraqi Baby
From: Marwan Kobbe kobbe@emirates.net.ae
Just a little something to share from one sister to other
sisters in light of inspiration and striving to be all we can be with
the Guidance of our Gracious Lord and Creator, Allah.
The Seed Within . . .
An infantile seed, carried by the wind,
whirls around until reaching its final goal.
Its roots extend and then take firm hold,
embedded deeply within the nourishing soil.
Hence springs forth, for all eyes to behold,
the glorious vision of a grand sycamore.
Indeed is the Plan, the best of Designs,
Decreed by the Wisdom of our Mighty Lord.
Each creation carries its own seed within,
following along a similar course.
A miniscule entity may be our start,
ahead of us, great things may be in store.
The outcome of our seed is yet to be seen.
That which we reap proceeds from what we sow.
Indeed is the Plan, the best of Designs,
Decreed by the Wisdom of our Great Creator.
Maryam L. Kobbe
From: "Y. Khalid AbdulSamad Draper" mujahid@gte.net
In the name of Allah, Beneficent, the Merciful
As-salaamu alaykum,
Here is a poem celebrating the conviction of our Muslim sisters.
It was taken from the poetry section of the Anwaar ul-Haqq page
located at http://home1.gte.net/mujahid.
Insha'Allah, visit this site and submit articles or poems.
No longer shackled by the oppression
of miniskirts and see-thru shirts,
my sisters stand proud.
Covered by cloth and more so by conviction
submission to Allah, they stand apart from the crowd.
The taunts, the jeers, the stares, the leers
Never fazing or dissuading them from following the deen.
Real women they be, the epitome of femininity
strong, secure, complete human beings.
Not slaves to the world of fashion
which is always askin'
for women to dress in as less as they can.
Their hijab is for the sake of Allah
in imaan and taqwa
they refuse to be objectified by man.
Such are my sisters in Islam.
The Scarf
By: Nura Alia Hossainzadeh
They stand there with shorts, so short, excessively short,
shorts that so deceptively capture from them all they know
of modesty...
...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair
They stand there, face lost in a sea of make-up,
make-up that so ruthlessly captures from them all they know
of freedom...
...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair
They stand there, hair raining with gels, colors -
chemicals that so menacingly capture from them all they know
of purity...
...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair
They stand there, so close, so very close to their "lover",
devoted to them, the devotion that so mercilessly captures
from them all they know of individuality...
...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair
And they stand there, talking of getting new shorts, new gels
and colors, new boyfriends, materialistic things
that so wrongfully capture from them all they know
of God and love...
...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair
For my scarf is my protector, my lover, my devotion,
my pureness, my beauty, my rememberance of God,
And I proudly pull it over my hair knowing that when I wear it,
I so rightfully thrust away all the things that the devil
brought about,
And when I put it on, I am
Free...
From: Khalid <mujahid@gte.net
In the name of Allah...
Here is a little something I wrote about this blessed month.
All deeds of the seed of Adam
are for him but one
Oh Lord of this blessed month
we praise you for Ramadhan
and for the kitab You revealed therein
to guide us to the light
Ya Rabb, give us the imaan
to stand in prayer that mighty night
let our siyam benefit us more
than mere hunger and unquenched thirst
and by Your Grace, the ayaat of Qur'an
each day we shall rehearse
may we be restrained from the evil deeds
and from evil in what we say
may we know and understand
and implement the Prophet's way
what joy was there when believers saw
the hilal, the crescent moon
may we all emerge from this month, insha'Allah
muttaqun
From: J A H I D A H M E D <ra6148@qmwcc7.qmw.ac.uk
"Does it matter?" (4 January 1998)
"Where we go, you cannot follow.
What we must do, you must steer clear of.
Whom we are, you shall not become.
For those who have sought the truth, we find it.
For those who have suffered, we fight for.
For we are the ones who have not suffered,
and have not sought the truth.
In their name, do we go."
"The sun's light shines on my face
As I see the dawn arise over the horizon.
I realise that it is time, to pay reverence
To my sovereign Lord.
I see the rays of the light come through the clouds
And I see a new land before my eyes;
Far different than the one I saw
In the day past.
I cannot imagine how it was different before
Only that it was
And so was I.
For both I and the land
Have experienced a rebirth.
A new life, as the sun arose,
And we arose
From our slumber.
Thank the Almighty
For the gift of life."
"I have the spirit within me.
How strong it is, I do not know.
But I know that it is of a type of glory
I have never before experienced.
It is the type that can deliver a man
Into the depths of evil in this world
Or raise his entire civilisation
Into the skies above.
It is a noble glory.
It cannot be taken by another man.
It cannot be broken
By an outside force.
It cannot be shaken
By the external.
But, and this is unfortunate;
It can have all of these done
By myself."
"Tell me people, how should I identify my nationality?
I am neither Emirati nor English, neither Egyptian nor Sudani.
But I carry the blood of them all.
Does it matter? We are all one family.
Tell me people, how should I identify my faith?
I am not Christian nor Jew, but I am not Sunni nor Shia,
not Hanbali nor Ibadite.
Does it matter?
I hail only from where I am. I follow only that which
I believe to be true. I follow no man; I only follow God.
And I am a Muslim."
Hisham Zoubeir
From: Manwar Ali <alimm@planet.bt.co.uk
"IT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU . . .
IT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH IT."
A POEM
There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.
It was only a grain,
But it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings
Although they're so plain.
Now, did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?
Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?
"No," he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it.
Now the years have rolled around,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny . . . stew.
And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral,
For isn't it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?
What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.
Author unknown
From Abu AbdurRahmaan (ilm-net maintainer <ilm@muslimsonline.com)
As-salaamu `alaykum wa-rahmatu llaah.
Here is a poem which was forwarded to me by brother Umair Qadeer
Razak Mohamed Lazim <razak@idtech.com.sg.
May Allah help us to act on the Qur'aan.
LAMENT OF THE QURAN
As an ornament do they adorn me,
Yet they keep me and sometimes kiss me.
In their celebrations 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 me 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 treatment I receive
So much to give I, but none is there to perceive.
From: Huda Aljunied[SMTP:aljunied@hotmail.com]
I am a Muslim
==============
I am a Muslim
And God I praise
For all His blessings
My voice I raise
In one God I believe
No equal has He
Lord of the universe
Compassionate to me
Muhammad the prophet
Taught me the way
To be honest and truthful
Throughout every day
The holy Qur'an
To life is my guide
It's teachings I follow
By it I abide
Islam my religion
Preaches good deeds
Mercy and kindness
To the right path it leads
Upon all humanity
God showers His grace
Regardless of colour
Nationality or race
Through working together
Our hopes increase
To live in a world
Full of love and peace
I am a Muslim
And God I praise
For all His blessings
Myvoice I raise
Anonymous
Funny how $10 looks so big when we take it to masjid and so small
when we take it to the store.
Funny how big an hour serving God looks and how small 60 mintues
are when spent playing golf, fishing or playing soccer.
Funny how laborious it is to read a juzz in the Quran and how
easy it is to read - 2-300 pages of a best selling novel.
Funny how we believe what newspapers say but question what the
Quran says.
Funny how we can't think of anything to say when we pray and don't
have any difficulty thinking of things to talk to a friend.
Funny how we need 2-3 weeks to fit an islamic event into our
schedule, but can adjust it for a social event at the last moment.
Funny isn't it?
From: arshad arshad@home.com
I am Malaysian Pakistani and Somali and Arab:
I am Turk and Irani and native of the Maldives:
My home is in Paris, Berlin, London;
in Mexico City, Port-of-Spain, Durban;
in Karachi, Zagazig or Kuala Lumpur,
I am as at home sailing in a lateen
rigged baggala along the red-rock Oman
shores bound for Socotra's island as I
am crossing the Khyber Pass in a camel
caravan...or driving a Mercedes taxi
in Istanbul.
Na'am, aiwa, acha, kha,
I am your brother, Adam.
You will know me in the mosques when
I stand shoulder to shoulder with you
and wish you peace when prayer is done:
and you may see me in Isfahan talking with
a miniature painter or in Dera Ismail Khan
listening to a young and vocal teacher of
Urdu or in Medan listening to a old man
chanting the Quran or in Sacramento listening
to a college boy who has all the problems
of the universe solved.
You will know me becuase I am your brother
and in a real and forceful sense I am
a part of you, dependent on you as you are
dependent on me...as rocks in a city wall...
round as the ancient wall of Baghdad.
I am Egyption and Tunisian and Syrian:
I am Berber and Kurd; Fulani and Nausherwani
and Pawenda;
I am Maliki, Hanafi, Hanbali, and Shafii:
all these I am, for I am your brother
standing besides you in the mosque waiting
for the iqama...white-garbed in the plain
of Arafat...fasting with you in Ramadan.
I am at home in the black tents of the bedu
and the tall buildings of Hadhramaut...;
I am always lingering at the Great Mosque
to circle the Kaaba and to kiss the hajr
al-aswad and drink from the well of Zamzam;
and I am standing, too, in the Haraam ash-sharif
in Jerusalem and in Karbala...and all of them,
each of them, has meaning on meaning for me.
Na'am ya habibi, ya azizi, ya akhi,
I am your brother Adam.
You will know me when you see me
becuase I wll be fingering my beads
and you will know well what this means...
subhanAllah...
You will know me and I will know you
for we are real brothers; and I am of
one place as I am of another...as much a
part of one as the other; the lover
of all lands where I can listen to the
call of the muezzin coming over the night,
or hear the beat of a single Muslim heart.
From: Khadija Andleeb <kandleeb@hotmail.com>
GARDENS OF HEAVEN ARE FOR YOU
Casting down your glances,
Not aware of surroundings.
Acting upon God^Òs word
Believing in it as firm as true,
O^Ò my chaste maidens Gardens of Heaven are for you.
This world of myth and illusion,
Where Angels laugh in derision.
Devils are those who mock and tease,
Dope makes you ill at ease
Just leave him alone to boil and stew,
O^Ò my radical ladies Gardens of Heaven are for you.
Craving for jewels, silk and diamonds,
No longer increase our despondence.
Hand in hand with poor and wretched
Soothing their ignition to covet
This lesson, Hijab teaches of Equality,
Voluptuous desires are sheer frivolity
Saluting, audacious efforts made by you,
O^Ò my modest sisters Gardens of Heaven are for you.
Inside so humble and meek,
Skills and intellect at their peek.
May God bless you all
Showering girt to shame cruel
Holding to it as stick as glue,
O^Ò my valiant females Gardens of Heaven are for you.
KHADIJA ANDLEEB
Thru this poem I would like to express my special reverences
For all those Muslim females who even living in Western
Countries, very defiantly practice their doctrines.
FROM: a muslima at initial stages.
From: mehmood ashrafi <mmashrafi@hotmail.com>
Inspiring Islamic poem
Salam-O-Lakem, Sister Huma,
I wanted to send you a poem written by a brother on conditions in our
homelands. He is from Pakistan, but being from India myself, I feel
that a lot of what he has written is applicable to India as well - even
though India is not a muslim country.
After writing to him, I was surprised that he is only 28, because, many
of the observations he has made, I have been telling my children for
years. It will be you young people who can bring Islam back to our
contries.
In his poem he implies that changes in our homelands must come from he
west is what I have been saying for years. What you are doing, and if
brothers like him dedicate themselves to Islam, In-Shah-La, our religion
will spread more, and In-Shah-La, our faith will one day be as strong as
our numbers.
Anyways, I hope you will be able to use this poem, I am planning to use
it in my newsletters as well.
He had originally written it in english-Urdu, but I asked him for
translations, which he sent me today, and so I will send you both.
It hit me pretty hard, I hope that it inspires you as well.
If you would like to get permission from the brother, his name is
Khurram Sheikh, and his email is "Khurram.Sheikh@shell.ca
Salam-0-Lakam.
NAZM 3: Desh kai HaaLaath
-------------------------
Josh ke khom mein aaj bhaRa madHosh zamaaNa hain
Khom ke hoshiyaari ko nashOn ka josh nai maaRa hain
Yahan zameer, beh-GharRahThi kai neend meh qhaiD hain
Yahan jagtThi huwye laShAIn aasSi azadDi peh nehaal hain
IQbal ka khWab ka kya hua
IQbal ka dia hua naam ka upMaan hua
Azaadi ka khWab ka kya hua
ShaHeedo kai lashOn ka apMaan hua
Aaj SaaChy, zaMaNai ko mahLoom nahin
Aaj rishWuthmein, zaMaNa masRoof hoGyia hain
Kabhi lashOn or khoon nai, Desh ke azadDi khaReedDi thi
Aaj rishWuTh ke JehBon nai, oos azaDee ko khaReeDa hain
Kabhi mazHub kai puKaar nai, Desh ka khWab jagGia tha
Aaj mazHub kai pukar nai, RishWuth ko saaThi bunHia hain
Aaj masJid mein bhi, rishWuth ke baaTh chulThi hain
Yahan zakat nahin, rishWuth bukhShish ke naam sai dehJahThi hain
Aaj mulVi or dhoKanDar mai koi farQ nahin
Aaj masJid or baZaar mein kohi farQ nahin
Desh kai muzHub nai, auruTh ko aZadi or izZuth dhalWahHee thi
Desh nai ab muzHub kai naam, auRuth ko ghuLaami ka kaaLa coffin
pehNia hain
ORo ke auRuthOn ko ankhAin, gur, gur kai dekhThai hain
Apne auruThOn ke ankhAIn, parDai kai andehRai mein duhFun karThai
hain
Yahan hijaab nahin, khaLa coffin pehNahThai hain
Yahan hijaab nahin, muzHab ka muzZaak pehNahThai hain
Islam nai tho talLeem ko, noor kehlLia tha
Is Desh nai Islam ko, andherOn mai dufNia hain
RasSool nai taalLim sai, muzHub ko bharRia tha
Is Desh nai talLeem ko andherOn mai dufNia hain
RasSool nai apne Khom ko, khulM or KhalMai ke tarRuff bharRia
tha
Aaj ke taaleem nai, jawaanOn ko chahKoo or bunDooKh ke tarRuff
bharRia hain
Aaj madRahSOn mein bachChoo ko insaaNiYuth nahin sukAhThai hain
DaakLeeYuTh ke din, rishWuth ke pehLi nuMahIsh dekhaThai hain
Kabhi usTaad, Iqbal, Ghalib or sharRiYuth, sukKahThai thai
Aaj shahGird, usTaaD ko apNai butWai dekhAhThai hain
Kabhi taLeem, jahHil ko moMin bunaThi thi
Aaj JahHil, moMin ko JahHiliYuth suKahTha hain
Kabhi khulM or khaGhez nai, aadMi ko InSaan bunHia tha
Aaj khaGhez kai tookROn nai, Aadmi ko haiVaan bunHia hain
Kabhi khaGhez kai tookROn nai, aaDmi ka zaMeer bharRia tha
Aaj khaGhez kai tookROn nai, aaDmi ka zaMeer lootTia hain
Kabhi Desh kai rakhWalLai, Desh kai saivVa mai masRoof thai
Aaj kai NathaOn, desh ko LootaNai mai masRoof hain
Yeh khom ko; Roti, Kapada aur Makan, kai waadDai karThai hain
Khom ke Roti, Kapada aur Makan sai, apne he jaiBai bharThai hain
Aaj tho yeh Khuda ke fitrat, ko bhi nahin chorThai hain
MarkaZi dhamaKOn sai Aakaash ko heeLahThai hain
ZaMeen ko heeLahNa, yaHan ke khomi jazBah or muzBhi shaan hain
Khuda ke fitRuth par har humla, JiHaad mein bhi haRaam hain
Yahan muzHub ka izHaar hain, par momin ka iMaan nahin
Yahan KhalMai ke tahLahWuth hain, par karmO ke DikhLahWuth nahin
Yahan diYai rangeen hain, par in DiYo mai roshNi nahin
Yahan suraj ke kirNaiy hain, par kirNao mao koi uJaaLah nahin
Har anDhera ka tho, saVera hoTha hain
Is Desh kai saVera mein bhi, anDhera hoTha hain
Kabhi PooRub, roshni ke hiFaZuth karTha tha
AndherOn mein bhi, Paachim ko roshni beJhTha tha
Aaj roshni Paachim meh jagThi hain, aur Paachim meh he sohJahThi
hain
PooRub nai rooshni ko tookRahia, or Paachim kai AndherOn ko apNia
hain
HuMaara Desh, aaj PaaChim kai andherOn ko, phujTha hain
Oossi Paachim ke roshni ko, yeh Desh, ghuNa maanTha hain
Kabhi PooRub nai apne roshni sai, Paachim ko AndherOn sai
NekaalLah tha
PooRub nai kabhi Paachim ko apNa pichLa zaMaaNa LoTaHia tha
Aaj PooRub nai guZarRah huwa ZaMaaNa AndherOn mein guwahDia hain
Ab GuzerRai huwYe zaMaaNai ke roshni, PooRab nai PaaChim sai he
neKaalNa hain
-Khurram S. Sheikh
February 12, 1999
Translation
-----------
This passionate society is living through a senseless period
Their senses have been conqurered by their intoxicated passions
The consciences' of the people are trapped in a shameless slumber
These living corpeses are content existing in this freedom
What has happened to Iqbal's dream?
The name Iqbal gave the country, has been disgraced
What happened to the dreams for freedom?
The bodies of the martyrs have been disgraced
Today the truth is not known in this society
Today, this society has become preoccupied with birbery
There was a time when flesh and blood were the price of freedom
for this country
Today the deep pocket's of bribery have acquired this freedom
There was a time, when religion's rallying cry awakened the dream
of this nation
Today, the cry of religion has made bribery its partner
Today, the haggling of bribery is accepteed in mosques
In these places Zakat is not given, but bribery is given in the
name of charity
There is no longer any difference between a preacher and a
shopkeeper
There is no longer any difference between a mosque and a shopping
center
This country's religion bestowed respect and freedom to women
In the name of religion, this country has adorned women in the
black shroud of slavery
The people of this country look at each other's woman with lustful
eyes
They bury the eyes of their own women under veils of darkness
In this place, it is not the hijab, but a black shroud that they
are adorned in
In this place, it is not hijab but a mockery of religion that they
are adorned in
Islam had called education a guiding light
This country has now buried Islam in darkness
The Prophet, advanced religion through education
This country has now buried education in darkness
The Prophet, brought his followers towards, the pen and the KalMa
Today education has brought the youth towards, the knife and the
gun
Today in school's, children are not taught humanity
On the day of registration, they are receive their first
introduction to bribery
There was a time when teachers presented the teachings of Iqbal,
Ghalib and Islam
Today, students present their teachers with their wallets
There was a time when education, turned the ignorant, into
believers
Today, the ignorant make believers, ignorant
There was a time when man attained humanity through the pen and
paper
Today a few scraps of paper turn men into barbarians
There was a time when a man's conscience could be raised through
pieces of paper
Today, man's conscience is stolen by pieces of paper
There was a time when the guardians of this nation were busy in
the service of the nation
Today's leaders are busy looting the nation
They make promises of bread, clothes, and shelters to the people
They than fill their own pockets with the bread, clothes, and
shelter of the people
Today, the don't even leave the creation of God alone
They shake the sky with nuclear blasts
Shaking the earth is a cause for national fervour and religious
pride
Any attack on the creation of God is forbidden even in a Jihad
Declararion of faith are present in this place, but the believer's
faith is missing
The KalMah (acceptance of Islam)is recited here, but the actions
of a believer are missing
In this place, lamps are coulourful, but they have no guiding
light to offer
The sun's beams are presen here, but they have no illumination
to offer
Every darkness has a morning
In this country, even the mornings are filled with darkness
There was a time when the East was a guardian of light
Even in darkness, it always light to offer to the West
Today the light rises in the West, and returns to slumber in the
West
The East has shunned light, and accepted the West's darkness
Our country worships the darkness of the West
The light that West does offer is shunned ad being sinful by our
country
There was a time, when the light from the East brought the West
out of it's darkness
The East recovered the lost history of the West and brought them
out of darkness
Today the East has lost it's past glofy in darkness
The East must now find it's lost light in the West
I asked for Strength.........
And God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.
I asked for Wisdom.........
And God gave me Problems to solve.
I asked for Prosperity.........
And God gave me Brain and Brawn to work.
I asked for Courage.........
And God gave me Danger to overcome.
I asked for Love.........
And God gave me Troubled people to help.
I asked for Favours.........
And God gave me Opportunities.
I received nothing I wanted
I received everything I needed
My Prayer has been answered
Imagine yourself after you pass away
Imagine your grave through night and through day
Wishing that you did not do as they say
Wishing that you had got up and had prayed.
Imagine, my friends, the day that you died
Imagine all of the tears that they cried
Remember how it felt when your body was tied
Remember how it felt in the grave which you lied.
Imagine the day you'll be called to account
Imagine the sum to which your life will ammount
Think for a moment of the deeds which you mount
Think for a moment how much they will count.
What will they say of you when you are dead?
What will they say, what will be said?
Will they speak of all the poor who you fed?
Will they remember all the Qur`an that you read?
Think not of them, but of Allah, Lord of mankind and jinn
Think of Allah when tempted to sin
Think of the paradise which you will dwell in
Don't wait till later to think what might have been.
'Twas the Night of Lailatul-Qadr
'Twas the night of Lailatul-Qadr
And all through the frat
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a rat.
The guys were all sleeping
All snug on the floor,
Till one of them woke
From a loud raucous snore.
It came from outside,
Not a snore but a clatter,
So Bilal rushed to the window
To see what was the matter.
The thought of a burglar
Was his reason to hurry,
But Alhamdoolilah,
'Twas old Ramadan Ali!
His charm and charisma
Could surely outdo most,
His belly shook when he laughed
Like a plate full of hummos.
His aura was commanding
Yet jovial and funny,
Like a mixture of falafel
And chicken biryani.
His angels hung their blessings
Over the chimney with care,
In hopes that we thank
Allah later through prayer.
When Ramadan Ali was done,
He hurried away,
And Bilal swore that he glimpsed
A camel-drawn sleigh.
"Bismillah-Hirrahmaan-Nirraheem!
On Faisal! On Amina! On Abdul-Kareem!
On Aisha! On Sonia! On Hussain and Imran!
On Adil! On Omar! On Rudolph Ali Khan!" (he converted)
And through the most holy night,
Bilal waved the spirit goodbye,
And the crescent-shaped moon
Caught the noor from his eye.
And as he went back to sleep,
The faint voice didn't wake 'im:
"A peaceful Ramadan to all!
As-salaam-alaikum!"
I'M TOO BUSY
Everyday as i wake up at dawn
My mind start working the moment i yawn
There were many things to do, o dear!
That's why i hastily did my Subuh prayer
I didn't have the time to sit longer to
praise the Lord
To me rushing out after prayer is nothing odd...
Since school, i had been busy every minute
Completing my tutorials and handing it in
My ECAs took up most of my time always
No time did i have to Allah to pray
Too many things to do and zikir is rare
For Allah, I really had no time to spare..
When i grew up and started my career
Working all day to secure my future
When I reached home, I prefered to have fun
I chatted on the phone but i didn't read the Quran
I spent too much time surfing the Internet
Sad to say, my faith was falling flat...
The only time i have left is weekends
During which i prefer window shopping with friends
I couldn't spare time to go to the mosque
I'm too busy, that's the BIG EXCUSE...
I did my five prayers but did so quickly
After prayer, I didn't sit longer to reflect quietly
I didn't have time to help the needy ones
I was loaded with work as my precious time runs
No time at all to visit a sick Muslim friend
To orphans and elderly, I hardly lent a hand
I'm too busy to do community service
When there were gatherings, I helped the least
My life was already full of stress
So i didn't counsel a Muslim in distress
I didn't spend much time with my family
B'coz i thought, doing so is a waste of time...
No time to share with non-Muslim about Islam
Even though I know, inviting causes no harm
No time to do Sunnah prayers at all
All these contribute to my imaan's fall..
I'm busy here and busy there
I've no time at all, that's all i care
I went for religious lessons, just once in awhile
Coz i'm too busy making a pile...
I worked all day and i slept all night
Too tired for Tahajjud and it seemed not right
To me, earning a living was already tough
so i only did basic deeds but that's not enough..
No time at all, to admire God's creation
No time to praise All_h and seek His Compassion
Although I know how short is my life
For Islam, I really didn't strive..
Finally the day comes, when the Lord calls for me
And I stood before Him with my Life's History
I feel so guilty b'coz i should have prayed more
Isn't that what a Muslim lives for?
To thank Allah and do more good deeds
And the Quran is for us all to read..
Now at Judgement Day, I'm starting to fret
I've wasted my life but it's too late to regret
My entry to Paradise depend on my good behaviour
But i've not done enough nor did proper prayer
My "good deed book" is given from my right
An angel opened my "book" and read out my plight.
Then the angel chided me....
"O You Muslim servant, you are the one,
Who is given enough time, yet not much is done
Do you know that your faith is loose?
saying "no time" is only an excuse.
Your "good deed book" should be filled up more
with all the good work you stood up for..
Hence, I only recorded those little good deeds
As I say this, I know your eyes will mist..
I was about to write some more, you see
But i did not have, THE TIME to list".......
THE END..
SMILE!!!!
She smiled at a sorrowful stranger.
The smile seemed to make him feel better.
He remembered past kindness of a friend
And wrote him a thank you letter.
The friend was so pleased with the thank you
That he left a large tip after lunch.
The waitress, surprised by the size of the tip,
Gave part to a man on the street.
The man on the street was grateful;
For two days he'd had nothing to eat.
After he finished his dinner,
He left for his small dingy room.
He didn't know at that moment
that he might be facing his doom.
On the way he picked up a shivering puppy
And took him home to get warm.
The puppy was very grateful
To be in out of the storm.
That night the house caught on fire.
The puppy barked the alarm.
He barked till he woke the whole household
And saved everybody from harm.
One of the boys that he rescued
Grew up to be President.
All this because of a simple smile
That hadn't cost a cent.
...and THAT is the power of a smile! So smile away :)
The Messenger of Allah, upon whom be peace, said:
"Every good deed is sadaqah (charity). To meet your
brother with a smiling face and to pour out from your
bucket into his container are sadaqah."
A Man's Trail
This is the story of an average human
From his story there is so much to learn
"I work through life working day and night
Let me tell you of my miserable plight
Before that, let me thank Allah Most Merciful too
That's why I'm sharing my story with you
From young I was told I had to be the best
I must learn to score for my exams and tests
I studied hard to be the top in class
So that my friends will respect me with all the fuss
In my youth days, I was actually insecure
So much temptations and many are impure
I prayed sparingly but it didn't help me
Why couldn't I feel that Allah was watching me?
I wanted to be the cream of the cake
I didn't allow myself to make a single mistake
I wanted more friends and also be praised
When I didn't get complimented, I felt so dazed
I began to doubt myself again and again
Was I not good enough or was I insane?
I was feeling inadequate for my lack of looks
Was I too fat, short, or did my smile give the spooks?
I learnt to dress up in trendy clothes bought from stores
I wanted people to look at me and say 'wow' in awe
I wanted to be adored, praised and be popular
Success to me is to be top scholar
I wanted to shower myself in fame
I also hoped to earn a big name
I studied hard and topped my school high
I believe that to make friends, success is a tool
Whenever I was with friends and my date was just beside
I felt the pressure to display my witty side
I'm afraid my friends would leave me if I'm not nice enough
So I bought them gifts and other good stuff
Branded clothes, car, intelligence and friends indeed
You may think I have all that I need
But I'm still unhappy inside and I don't even know why
Was I not good enough, too ugly or too shy?
At work, I pleased my boss to show him I was the best
I treated my colleagues lunch and sacrificed all my rest
I was afraid that my boss disliked me if I lazed about
In front of him, I did my best and tried to stand out
Then I climbed the corporate ladder and be my own boss
Finally, I was successful but I was still in a loss
I was cheerful outside but scared inside
I was not even sure what I'm doing is right
I looked around to see all my best friends
I wonder if they still like me if my wealth ends?
I cannot bear to face rejection or even fail
If I become poor and old, will my friendships be stale?
I work hard, but who am I trying to impress?
The fear of losing my reputation is causing me stress
I want friends to respect me forever and ever
I could imagine my friendship to sever
But alas! My business failed me terribly
I was down with illness and suffered painfully
All the people whom I thought were faithful friends
Left me because my status has no stands
I'm left alone and wonder whether it is true?
To make good friends, wealth matters too?
I looked at the side of my bed and saw the Qur'an
Guilt enveloped me because the Qur'an I have read none
Since I was alone and feeling so bored
I explored the Qur'an to know about Allah the Lord
True Muslims friends start to befriend me
It doesn't matter whoever I'll be
They accept me and love me despite my flaws
I don't have to make them like me by using force
I don't have to impress Allah with my witty charm
I already know Allah loves us and protects us from harm
With Allah's help, we can attain peace in self
So let's put doubt back in Satan's shelf
If there are problems with work and with men
Please remember that it's part of Allah's plan
Ask from Allah because He listens to us always
Allah will help us with His Kindness and Grace
I met a man who is unfortunately blind
He then advised me with words so kind
He said, 'Love yourself and be grateful for what you are
You owe it to Allah for coming this far
Allah loves us and makes us Muslims
But many people don't appreciate it, it seems
It doesn't matter if we're poor or earn less
Allah loves who we are and He cares
Don't do good deeds if you do it for show
Or else your spiritual status will sink below
If you're humble, do good deeds and pray to Allah Most Wise
You can earn yourself a place in Paradise
Good Muslims overcome worries and insecurity
They are unfazed even if they are treated with hostility
Why be a slave to affluence and glamour?
Why worry if we are not witty with humour?
Always be yourself, dear brother, have no pretence
Allah will still love you, even if you don't have any fans
Why be afraid, dear brother, when friends shun away
When Allah is there for you it's always that way.'
After the blind man left, my mind started working
I was still surprised and truth starts coming
It seems that I may be a boss or lying here poor
but good Muslims greet me with salaam, a smile and no fear
I kept wondering, what is success to me?
Is it about having friends, or earning a good degree?
I had all these and yet I was not satisfied
Could it be because that Allah was not on my side?
Then I realize that I have been foolish
My INSECURITY is the one that was my leash
Why was I ungrateful to Allah Most Great?
Allah's helping us all the way as Fate
Oh! I'm ashamed for being so proud
When my success was actually a passing cloud!
Now I realize my great big mistake
So I do more good deeds now with sincerity and no fake
Let's learn from this life and tread the virtuous road
Remember that this world is only a temporary abode
Now I live through my life devoted to the Islamic cause
And repent, so Allah will love me despite my flaws."
Remember true success is not about having lots of friends
In fact, it is about passing Allah's tests
Happiness is not about showing off your generous part
In fact, it's about the ATTITUDE of your heart
Say: 'I like who I am and I'm glad to be me
I love being a Muslim and Allah sets my heart free!
I can feel in my mind and in my little heart bone
I confess - with Allah around, I know I'm never alone'.
-Written by Dee77
udianajam@pacific.net.sg
S L O W D A N C E:
Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain
slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last
Do you run through each day on the fly
When you ask "How are you?"
do you hear the reply?
When the day is done,
do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
'Cause you never had time
to call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast
Time is short
The music won't last
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away...
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim,
I'm not shouting " down with Christians and Jews."
I am whispering "I seek peace,"
and Islam is the path that I choose.
When I say. . . I am a Muslim,
I speak of this with pride.
And confess that sometimes I stumble,
and need Allah to be my guide.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim,
I know this makes me strong.
And in those times when I am weak,
I pray to Allah for strength to carry on.
When I say. . . I am a Muslim,
I'm not boasting of success.
I'm acknowledging that Allah has rescued me,
and I cannot ever repay the debt.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim,
I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are indeed visible,
but Allah forgives because his followers are worth it.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim,
it does not mean I will never feel pain.
I still have my share of heartaches,
which is why I invoke Allah's name.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim,
I do not wish to judge.
I have no such authority
My duty is to submit to Allah's all-encompassing love.
BE THANKFUL
====================
Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire,
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don't know something
For it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations
Because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge
Because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you're tired and weary
Because it means you've made a difference.
It is easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are also
thankful for the setbacks.
GRATITUDE can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles and they
can become your blessings.
Subject: The Woman! (Qalamuddin Column)
The Woman! (23 January 1999)
----------
The Woman I admire
wearing her attire
hiding her figure,
thus, curbing my desire..
The Woman I desire
fearing the (hell) Fire
is diligent in her prayers
for the rewards of life hereafter...
The Woman I encounter
is beyond bother
with the keen race
to beautify the face!
The Woman I ask
from dawn to dusk
is busy with ALLAH
murmuring, subhan'allah, subhan'allah, subhana'allah
The Woman I observe
certainly deserves
better respect
than what she expects
The Woman I listen
is very, very stern
for her it is a must
to control one's lust
But the Women I see
sad to say, most wear "minis"
alone I lament... "VIAGRA on heels"?
though they are not made for this!
The Woman I met
boasting her beauty
most probably by surgery?
but does she know it is all temporary?
Hence, the Woman I know
is advised to follow
the sunnah of our beloved Rasulullah
from head to toe....
The Woman I judge
often bears a grudge
EQUALITY, she requests (or rather protests)
but please bear in mind ALLAH'S inquest!
The Women I hurt (by this article)
please do not curse or smut
for it is better I warned
before all is gone....
Firdaus
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.
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.
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.
SINCERITY
-Anonymous
Learn to call on Allah,
In the dark,
While Riding on a bus,
Or sitting in a park
Learn to do it when,
Alone in a room,
Or staying up late,
Staring at the moon
And if someone boasts about,
What he did for Allah,
And asks you to tell him,
What you did for Allah
Just Say, "Why should I tell you"
If I did it for Allah?"
FAITH
A Muslim Woman
She conceals her beauty
Obstructs the radiance from seeping through
Cloaks her seductivity
Refuses to submit to the wordly desires
Preserves her atractiveness and charm
Protects the diamond within
She is left savorless
Banal
Insipid
Vapid
Yet she remains veiled.
She is ridicled by prejudice
Mocked by displayed beauty
Taunted by the devil.
It shatters her patience
Lowers her self esteem
But only for a split of a second.
She remains veiled.
Its strange
Incomprehensible
Yet marvelous
It's faith.
THE QU’RAN
A Book that is full of answers,
A Book that makes you cry.
A Book that makes you notice,
How much harder you can try.
A Book that makes you realize,
What true love really is...
A Book that gives you direction,
for all of life’s tough biz.
A Book that gives you hope,
that Someone somewhere’s watching over you.
A Book that helps you out,
Through all the times your blue.
A Book that was revealed to our beloved Prophet(SAWS),
over a period of 23 years
Once you put faith into this Book,
You can handle worldly fears.
A gift sent down from Heaven,
A treasure from above,
Written proof that shows us
How blessed we are with Allah(SWT’s) love!
PORTRAIT
Meditation in God is my capital
Reason and Sound logic is the root of my religion
Love is the foundation of my existence
Enthusiasiam is the vehicle of my life
Comtemplation of God is my companion
Faith is the source of my power
Sorrow is my friend
Knowledge is my weapon
Patience is my garb and virtue
Submission to devine will is my pride
Truth is my salvation
Worship is my habit
And in prayer lies the coolness of my eye and the peace of my mind.
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