Ruins

Pre-Islamic Poetry

Palestinian Prayer

Bismillah, alhamdulillah:

You roll out of your bed
To the smell of sweet bread,
While I wake to the stench
Of a blood dried bench

You dream of western grass
A summer ready to pass
While nightmares greet me
Ahead of me nothing but misery

You watch silenced by fear
On camera a fake tear
As bleating sheep we die
Sacrificed gentiles to butchers high

Your day ends with the sun setting
You return to your family laughing
As I stand at my families remains crying
Their charred odor their final calling

‘Donate’ your media mantra
Assuage your people’s shallow anger
With your money abound
Your shrouds lower us to the ground

In your prayers your crowds are led
To pray for God to fight in your stead
Did not someone before say
You and Your God go and fight today?

What did you suckle – wet nurse or brute?
That she left you toothless and mute
Fear my prayer for oppressed am I
God change your heart or let you die

A perfect wife

Bismillah, alhamdulillah.

A perfect wife
A life without strife

Height compatible though a bit less
Allowing me to impress

Not fat, not thin
Just trim

Beautiful without compare
A harness for my wandering stare

Faith like the Everest
Shrouded by hijabs black and thickest

A wit and education
Coupled with frequent prayers and supplication

A mother of many
A defender of my house and every penny

As for me
I am as you see

Judge me not by my height
And in weight I am not very light

Homework my bane
Washing, hoovering all a pain

Kids are bawling
Mother, mother they are calling

Content to ask for all
Aah, as for me, what I offer is very small

Prayers and supplication wanting
Manners and etiquette awaiting

Bent ribs are my despair
Bent beyond repair

To the distance I turn my gaze
Only to find a misty haze

To the face on my wall I stare
As I realise the cause of my despair.

Found this on a withered old paper. The spidery writing on the page reminded me of a poem I had written in 1994 called `Perfect Wife`, inspired by conversations of those in search of her.

Call to prayer

Bismillah, alhamdulillah

Down I go in full flow, not fast not slow
Through the doors, into the outdoors
The call has come, for everyone

Past the puddle, I trundle
Date tree on my left, of dates bereft
Concrete street, under my feet

Passed Snow White, the clothes  so bright
Cars hooting, as they pass driving
Bells ringing, cyclists whizzing

Right at the bins, full of tins
Guarded by cats, in this city of flats
Passed the meat shop, sad chickens awaiting the chop

Left at the chemist, passed the footballers  I twist.
The green gates appear, as the world beings to disappear
The second call, reaches me at the wall

Through the simple door, onto the masjid floor
Hands rising, behind me the world is  falling
I join my line, at the behest of the Sublime.

Inspired by my daily journey from my flat to the local masjid or mosque in a suburb of Cairo (2004)

Arabic dreams

Bismillah, alhamdulillah

Glittering world
Promises you hurl
False and broken
But covered and well spun

Like insects in dizzying pace
We rush to your embrace
To the source of your light
Its fiery embers lost to our sight

To a barren desert I run
To citadels of chaos and mayhem
Wonder you why?
What attracts my eye?

A drop of belief
Propels me to a reef
In this stormy ocean
Questing the eternal potion

There I know
Lies the elixir so
Covered in runes and reams
Of Arabic dreams

Keys to the hearts delight
If only you knew then you might
Join me in my journey
To The Subtle and His company

A poetic response to ‘Why learn Arabic?’ (2004)

Can you hear the sound?

Bismillah, alhamdulillah.

Metal birds soaring in the sky,
Featureless and droning on high,
As an afterthought they discharge their burden,
To the earth with death laden,

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Past the buildings rising tall,
Onto brother and sister they hurtle,
Gifts wrapped in shiny metal,

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Was it a scream or a cry in a blackened mall?
Their blood paints road and rail,
As bodies turn ghastly pale,

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Drowned out by jaguars screaming their call,
Collateral is the name,
Warriors charging or children chanting, it`s all the same,

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Perhaps a few words hidden and small,
In a maze of media, reports scatter,
Ten or a hundred does it matter?

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Silence! They command in every hall,
Tears and cries are solely theirs,
Multiplied into a world of nightmares,

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Is there only silence as we reach the wall?
Voices drowned and downed,
Among scattered ashes on the ground.

Can you hear the sound as they fall?
Is there any that will call?
Or lift a hand,
And make a stand?

On behalf of the silent ones (2005).

Poem – Clocks on Walls

Bismillah, alhamdulillah

Clocks tick quietly on walls,
Waiting as His decree falls,
Eyes shed tears,
Hearts beat between hopes and fears.

Minds running through a maze,
Seeking light through the haze,
Reflections we begin to see,
As we learn what is empathy.

To Our Lord Most High and Merciful,
Supplications rise hopeful,
For our blessed Prophet we first pray,
Now understanding comes like the first break of day.

In every face of life,
He stands a guide for a world with tests rife,
Was it not his son Ibrahim?
A source of tears on a face so pristine.

O Allah on your blessed Prophet`s face,
We ask Your blessings and peace to grace,
Yesterday patience was knowledge,
Today in the practical world for it we forage.

To our Lord, Most High,
We turn, never questioning `Why?`
Gratitude we learn through His design,
Through it the fortuitous see the divine.

To beautiful hearts praying to the Knower of the Unseen,
May the angels bless your efforts with their aameen,
From destiny to destiny we flee,
Our hearts tipped with hope of our Lord`s Mercy.

Inspired by by the struggle of a small one (2005).

Poem – Kings

Bismillah, alhamdulillah

Like the smile of a man dying and old
Teeth brazen and bold

Pompous fountain relating stories
Reliving an age gone of past glories

The rest of the building stands by
Humbled by the blackness slowly rising high

Lost in the shards of infinity
Our hearts in their vicinity

A dull beat against the cold
Our hearts stained and rusted since old

Lamps draped in black gowns
Mortar boards and two towns

The mythology self fulfilling
The masses ever following

Devoid of schism a panacea they paint
The truth reduced to a tapestry faint

But never shall the twain
Abide with each other in refrain

Live and let live their call
But far short of Him they fall

O sweet Granada and Spain
Do you witness this tragedy and pain?

Little do we learn
From history and its return.

A poem after visiting King’s College, Cambridge (1989)

Poem – Trinity College

Bismillah, alhamdulillah

Distant echoes of a hammer beating
An eye blinks watching
The staccato of heels clicking
On cobbles pathetic silently mourning
Graceful towers rising
Hands of a clock ticking
A fountain flowing
Hearts leaning and yearning
Behind veils of ignorance hiding
If they knew tears streaming
They would have been weeping
Footsteps silent I am leaving
The fountain falters and restarts waiting

A short poem after visiting Trinity College, Cambridge (1989)

Poem – Desire

Bismillah, alhamdulillah

Desire directs that wondrous eye
To every bright sight low or high
Ploughing through a heart in toil
Soul rent and ripped apart in turmoil

Screaming voices shout
Straining as their ropes pull taut
Footsteps falter
Minds mulling upon an altar

Columns close to collapse shudder
As hands strain at the rudder
Ego and hero embrace in enthrall
Continuous in motion till the final fall