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Monday 30 June 2014

Complaint of a Poet




 Do not miss this point
As stated by the poet
Shall we meticulously pray?
Till our hairs with age go grey?
The leadership has gone stale
And that is not a tale
The poets complain
Is the issue not plain?
Talks may be cheap
But words could be deep
Nevertheless our hope is the youth
They are the boot
With it we shall march forward
Never looking backward
Fulfilling our yearnings
With our little earnings
Bettering the leadership
Strengthening our relationship
With Him who owns change
Our prove to Him that we want change

RMRS (June,2014)

Submitted: Sunday, June 15, 2014

Beneath Your Foot




Listen! Listen! Listen!
Listen to my words
And not to my voice
For silvery is my voice
But golden are my words
Listen Oh you who have ears!
Look! Look! Look!
Look not at me
But at him
Look at his heart
And not at his appearance
For gracious is his appearance
But treacherous is his heart
Look Oh you who have eyes!
Watch out!
He is close
Look at him
Run for your dignity
He is behind you
No! Beside you
Oh no! In front of you
Never mind
For however, whenever and wherever
He will always defy you
Be alert
Not a widely opened eye
But a watchful one
Not an opened nose
But a sensitive one
Not a strong body
But a smart one
Don’t run!
Stand where you are
But stand firmly
Remember to lift your leg
For beneath it
You’ll keep him
Nowhere else
But under your foot

Submitted: Saturday, October 12, 2013
Edited: Saturday, October 26, 2013

Fire in the Belly





The vice of the soul is ignorance
The virtue of the soul is knowledge
But what happens when knowledge benefits not the knowledgeable?
What happens when the knowledgeable become culprits
To crimes that the ignorant will dare not commit?
Knowers of the Qur'an and the Sunnah
How could all that mean so little to them?
When death snatches away relatives
Leaving behind helpless orphans
When the guardians devour the children's properties
Knowing very well it is not their right
When people lie about helping the poor
Poverty, that is so depressing
They rob the good hearted of their wealth
With fat scary lies
Creating orphanages where there are no orphans
Building Masaajid where there are no Muslims
Digging wells where there are no inhabitants
They are full of deceit
All because of the sweets of this Dunya
But Allah gives to them a parable
On their plates may be luxury
But in their bellies are blazing flames of fire


Submitted: Sunday, September 29, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013

MY NUR


In one night
A few steps into the fortnight
I had prayed to the Light
Needing His Might
Then came my knight
In pure daylight
Towards my right
My lips I bight
To me he was like a candle light
Making my heart bright
Filling it with delight
Could he be my Mr Right?

Rubaba Mmahajia Rahma Sabtiu

Submitted: Saturday, March 22, 2014
Edited: Saturday, March 22, 2014

Love Me Today

Come to me
Talk with me
Sit beside me
Walk by me

Trek a mile
To see my smile
Keep me in your file
Treat me like an egg, fragile

Keep me in your grove
On all trees above
Wear me like a glove
Filled with love

Be my sister
Be my brother
Let’s be together
Like forever

Soon I will be gone
My life torn
So tell me truth
That I will take with me

Love me today
Tomorrow might not come
Yesterday is gone
Love me today

(RMRS, April,2014)

Submitted: Thursday, April 03, 2014
Edited: Thursday, April 03, 2014

Only Human




I want to grow this height
And mould this mind
I want to curb this pain
And feel this peace
I want to cry these tears
And smile this laughter
I want to speak these words
And mute this silence
I want to shout this anger
And jump this joy
I want to trek this travel
And sit this rest
I want to live this life
And die this death
I want to tell this story
And live this glory
Because I am
I am only human

(RMRS, April,2014)

Submitted: Friday, April 11, 2014
Edited: Saturday, April 12, 2014

Have You Seen it Coming?




And is the knowledge of the deen not fading?
Replaced by ignorance?
Has adultery not become widespread?
And alcohol so common
Don’t you see their advertisements on TV?
Do you know of the disease that has no cure?
Are the Muslims not also committing suicide?
Have you not seen it coming?
When Muslims are fighting each other over trivialities
When time is running as if it is being chased by a cheetah
When everyone is getting richer and richer
Have the women not dressed up
And yet are naked?
Don’t you see the rich sharing only with the rich?
As the poor gazed at them in their poverty
Have you not seen it coming?
Is the payment of zakat not a burden now?
And the worst of the people, now their leader
Is homosexuality not being forced down our throats?
In the name of human rights?
And the Muslims falling into the trap
Have you not heard of the war waged on Islam?
Have you not seen it coming?
When a virgin feels ashamed of her virginity
And the fornicator is proud to let everyone know
Don’t you see the pre-marital sexual nonsense?
And the innocent babies that come with it?
Have you not seen the woman who wants to be a man?
Did you not hear of the Muslim who calls himself liberal, Modernist?
So he could dodge the rules
And considers others fundamentalists
Those who hold onto the rules
Have you not seen it coming?
And then when I talk about the Dajjal, Anti-Christ
And Ya’ajuj and Ma’ajuj, Gog and Magog
Does it not come clear to you now?
That indeed you might have seen


Submitted: Monday, September 30, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 02, 2013

On the Political Podium



In our ears
The sound of music
The singers sing on
From stages up high
Their voices echoing in our heads
The drummers drum on
A boost for the singers to sing on
Excitement fills the atmosphere
The dancers move to the rhythm
The rhythm that foretold the coming of a new day
A day full of hope
Hope for the end of despair
The despair that the people feel
Tears will be replaced by smiles
Yet to the child the drums’ beats
And to the adult the singers’ lyrics

Submitted: Sunday, September 29, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013

A Mother with a Purpose







She ran
Between the lanes
On a very busy road
From car to car
Selling her plantain chips
They were of two types
Ripe and unripe
She had packed them nicely
The big ones were 50 pesewas
The small ones were 20 pesewas
She had a lot of them in a basket
A basket she carried tirelessly on her head
She was sweating all over
Her feet was covered with dust
As she hopped from car to car
She shouted
“Plantain chips oh! 20p,50p”
Her lucky time
When the traffic light turns green
For she can now walk comfortably
Among the cars
Her story
She had a child at sixteen
A mistake she made whilst in school
Her parents never cared
A mistake she was determined to correct
How?
By doing what she did
To the best of her ability
For it was her only decent option
To give her child the best
Of what?
Education and Food
Attention and Affection
And everything she never had
Her dream
To see her child become somebody
And so she does what she does
With a great passion
For the sake of her child
The purpose of her life
The wellbeing of her child


Submitted: Monday, September 30, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013

Dance to the Tune


 


 
Here is the dance floor!
Where are the dancers?
Those who instigated the songs
The songs that the musicians sing
From the soil emerge the results of the seeds we put in it
Our youth!
Where are their fathers and their mothers?
Why do they watch our future crush before our eyes?
Strength against weakness
Hardwork against laziness
Discipline against waywardness
Now against later
If you threw a ball to the wall
Then you should better look for somewhere to run to
Because! Because! Because!
Back to you it will bounce!



Submitted: Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 09, 2013

Come Sit With Me

Come
Yes, you!
Come and sit with me
Near the window
Overlooking the Dunya
Come and talk with me
Look at that man
How feeble he has suddenly become
Was it not just a few seconds ago
When in strength he had swam?
Oh Yes!
I saw him yesterday
Melting in vigour
He exuded such strong passion
Do you know what passion that was?
Of course I would tell you
He knew too well what today held in store
He knew the skin will wrinkle
The joints will weaken
Movement will be hard
Action will be low
Oh Yes!
He knew that time will work on him
His passion was one
To merit from his youth before today
Service to the Creator
That was his passion
In strength and now in weakness
I am grateful for your company
Go now!
Go and have a chat with your conscience!

(RMRS, March,2014)

Submitted: Monday, March 31, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, April 01, 2014

A Feel of Freedom

 
In my little cup of tea
I see a beautiful blue sky and sea
And the flying yellow butterfly
The fishes smiled
A smile on my face too
A trickling sweetness in my throat
The drop of honey in the centre of my heart
The butterflies gave me a nice tapping
Very joyously ticklish
Laughter replaces a fading smile
On the highest of heights
Mountains circling me
Everyone grasped in my view
In my eyes I saw peace and calm
Dipping a finger in the sea
Water sticking to my hand
Then came a cry and a beautiful song
Freedom I feel
No, I didn’t say that, she did
A pretty woman I would call her
Her face unknown but her shadows so clear
Today she sings songs with lyrics so lustrous
She summons the sea, the sky and the mountains
The world came along too
An amazing beauty she witnessed
People of all races, heights, shapes and sizes
Their language, giving her different tunes
Screams emanating from deep down her
The ninth planet heard and cheered
Floating in a gorgeous white dress and veil
The air privileged to be the palisade
The wild ones playing beats for her from the deep forest
Her words absolve her voice
Free! Free! Free!
Pain they had felt yesterday
So she could laugh today
She, the half of society
Yet she owns the other half
Never did she speak when they spoke
Today she stands proud as they stand
Her head held high
For freedom felt fulfilling

Submitted: Sunday, September 29, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013