Bismillah ah rahman ah raheem
In the Name of Allah, Most Beneficent, Most Merciful
These are some really beautiful islamic poems starting with the one that touched me the most "iraqi baby"
Iraqi baby
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[/COLOR]
The Islamic Way
By Omm Khalid Samir, a dear sister in Islam
In the Name of Allah, Most Beneficent, Most Merciful
Each morning my ears hear the adhan before prayer.
With my hands I perform wudhu' and I do it with care.
To the masjid I walk briskly upon both of my feet
Giving salaams to all Muslims I meet.
While making sujud, I get down on my knees.
When the prayer is complete, I hope Allah is pleased.
In performing du'aa, I raise my arms to the sky,
Never once doubting, nor questioning Why?
Upon leaving the masjid, my eyes see the sun.
And the world that surrounds me - a new day's begun.
With love in my heart, I teach my children their Deen,
To obey Allah's laws, to be pure, to be clean.
When nighttime has come, I remind them to say,
The three blessed surahs I taught them that day.
Their lips utter surahs - Al-Ikhlas, Al-Falaq, An-Nas.
They blow in their palms, over their bodies they're passed.
Their bodies and faces they then turn to the right.
Their souls they've submitted to Allah that night.
Our bodies direct us throughout every day.
To follow the straight path - The Islamic Way.
Poem: On Hijab and Oppression
Author Unknown
You look at me and call me oppressed,
Simply because of the way I’m dressed,
You know me not for what’s inside,
You judge the clothing I wear with pride,
My body is not for your eyes to hold,
You must speak to my mind, not my feminine mould,
I’m an individual, I’m no mans slave,
It’s Allah’s pleasure that I only crave,
I have a voice so I will be heard,
For in my heart I carry His word,
“O ye women, wrap close your cloak, so you won’t be bothered by ignorant folk”,
Man doesn’t tell me to dress this way,
It’s a law from God that I obey,
Oppressed is something I’m truly NOT,
For liberation is what I’ve got,
It was given to me many years ago,
With the right to prosper, the right to grow,
I can climb mountains or cross the seas,
Expand my mind in all degrees,
For God Himself gave us LIB-ER-TY,
When He sent Islãm,
To You and Me!
In the Name of Allah, Most Beneficent, Most Merciful
These are some really beautiful islamic poems starting with the one that touched me the most "iraqi baby"
Iraqi baby
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[/COLOR]
The Islamic Way
By Omm Khalid Samir, a dear sister in Islam
In the Name of Allah, Most Beneficent, Most Merciful
Each morning my ears hear the adhan before prayer.
With my hands I perform wudhu' and I do it with care.
To the masjid I walk briskly upon both of my feet
Giving salaams to all Muslims I meet.
While making sujud, I get down on my knees.
When the prayer is complete, I hope Allah is pleased.
In performing du'aa, I raise my arms to the sky,
Never once doubting, nor questioning Why?
Upon leaving the masjid, my eyes see the sun.
And the world that surrounds me - a new day's begun.
With love in my heart, I teach my children their Deen,
To obey Allah's laws, to be pure, to be clean.
When nighttime has come, I remind them to say,
The three blessed surahs I taught them that day.
Their lips utter surahs - Al-Ikhlas, Al-Falaq, An-Nas.
They blow in their palms, over their bodies they're passed.
Their bodies and faces they then turn to the right.
Their souls they've submitted to Allah that night.
Our bodies direct us throughout every day.
To follow the straight path - The Islamic Way.
Poem: On Hijab and Oppression
Author Unknown
You look at me and call me oppressed,
Simply because of the way I’m dressed,
You know me not for what’s inside,
You judge the clothing I wear with pride,
My body is not for your eyes to hold,
You must speak to my mind, not my feminine mould,
I’m an individual, I’m no mans slave,
It’s Allah’s pleasure that I only crave,
I have a voice so I will be heard,
For in my heart I carry His word,
“O ye women, wrap close your cloak, so you won’t be bothered by ignorant folk”,
Man doesn’t tell me to dress this way,
It’s a law from God that I obey,
Oppressed is something I’m truly NOT,
For liberation is what I’ve got,
It was given to me many years ago,
With the right to prosper, the right to grow,
I can climb mountains or cross the seas,
Expand my mind in all degrees,
For God Himself gave us LIB-ER-TY,
When He sent Islãm,
To You and Me!
