Categories
Poems

The Brightest Star

On the day you were born it was like a new star in the sky, the brightest ever star,

The day we said goodbye, a light went out on earth for me you are now very far.

But your soul went up to the skies and lit up the heavens,

You are always in my memory, your lovely star will forever shine.

Always remember a dad is a hero, a safe place who carries our worries and carries our weight,

Appreciate what dads do before it is too late.

A dad is there when problems need solving,

When dad is around you are constantly changing and evolving.

Always there for support and to give you a pat on the back,

Dads never turn a blind eye, but always keep you on the right track.

Eleven years on… Nazirahmed Daud Satia (Allah elevate his status).

Categories
Poems

Ten Years On….

27th November 2013 – Nazir Ahmed Satia (Allah drench him in his mercy)

Parents live forever. People say that when parents die, the world comes to an end. The house looks empty. But I feel that parents live forever and they stay with us. It’s us who forget them. The matter of fact is that a brother has the eyes of the beloved father, a sister has a pretty face like a compassionate mother, a sibling smiles like a dad, or a sister cooks like a mum.

Parents don’t die. They never leave us. They live among us. They live in us. We are the reflections of our parents. Despite their physical absence, they continue to live in us. When you want to remember your parents, when you want to see them, when you want to be with them, simply gather your siblings around you. You will find the mesmerising smile of the mother in one sibling, the soothing voice of the father in another. You will feel your parents very close to you. All around you. Deep inside you. The garden of love that parents cultivate and grow with love, from the time that you are born, with the hard work of their tears and blood; it will continue to bloom, unaffected by the cycles of tough weathers of life. They shelter us in tough times. But there are times, when we forget all their hard work and destroy the paradise that they built, with our selfishness, hatred, and opportunistic attitudes.

Parents don’t die. We put them to death. Love your parents. Love your siblings. Continue to feed the garden that parents cultivated with love and compassion so that it never stops blooming and blossoming. You will make your world a living paradise on Earth. A heaven that only knows love, compassion, care, respect and it has you with your loved ones around you.

Allah forgive our parents and have mercy on them, accept their good deed and grant them Jannah, Ameen

Categories
Poems

What Makes a Dad?

Allah took the strength of a mountain,

The majesty of a tree,

The warmth of a summer sun,

The calm of a quiet sea,

The generous soul of nature,

The wisdom of the ages,

The power of the eagle’s flight,

The joy of a morning in spring,

The faith of a mustard seed,

The patience of eternity,

The depth of a family need,

Then Allah combined these qualities,

When there was nothing more to add,

He knew his masterpiece was complete,

And so, He called it Dad

In memory of my dad eight years on… Allah drench him in His mercy.

Categories
Dhulm/Oppression Poems

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak…

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

I am not Palestinian, I am not Arab, I am Muslim but it is the duty,

Of every Muslim to make me free.

Where are your men, where are the armies?

That is what I need in times of atrocities.

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

Your speeches are empty and your words are weak,

I wish the truth had a tongue and my walls could speak.

To the tyrant rulers I don’t need your false lies,

I don’t worry about the merciless Zionists but I worry for the Muslim hypocrites and spies.

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

I don’t worry about tanks and planes,

I don’t care about the tractors and cranes.

I worry about the Takbeer inside me and the echoes of the Adhan,

I worry about the Tasbeeh in my corners and the melody of the Qur’an.

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

I want to hear the name of Allah, My Master,

He will free me from this calamity and disaster.

I no longer have any patience, the time has come,

Please! I beg you march and roll the drum.

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

To the Muslim rulers, come and liberate me,

Otherwise don’t you dare visit me.

O Muslims! Why don’t you feel my pain?

Don’t see you see the bombs and rockets that daily rain?

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

Where is NooruDeen? Where is SalahuDeen?

Nowhere are they to be found, nowhere are they to be seen?

O Ummah! Rescue me, I am shackled and tied,

You say you are 1 billion, but I feel like you have already died (spiritually).

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

They are weak and known to be cowards (Israelis),

But what has happened to you, you seem to have spiralled downwards?

Even a small army is sufficient, it would certainly conquer and win,

But you fear your enemy more than you fear your sins.

If al-Masjid al-Aqsa could speak… it would say

I know you will not come, I know you are afraid,

I await the Khalifah the one who must be obeyed.

I shall return to the Muslims, I will be free one day,

This has been prophesised and it is not just hearsay… (In Sha Allah).

Ismail ibn Nazir Satia (One who is in dire need of Allah’s forgiveness, mercy and pleasure)

15th Shawwal 1442

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNLhwhp6co8

Audio recital of the poem

Categories
Poems

As Far As I Remember…

As far as I remember, war had two sides,

As far as I remember, both were armed.

They gathered their men and met outsides,

Left the elderly, children and women unharmed.

Lest we forget

As far as I remember, war was fought equally

As far as I remember, both sides chose the war,

War was a last resort but carried out legally

No F16s and drones from the sky were tore,

Lest we forget…

As far as I remember, war left the houses undamaged,

As far as I remember, war had a reason

With the men off to war, the families still managed,

Each soldier, each fighter, a beacon

Lest we forget

Never will we forget

I remember when they came,

They thought that war was a game.

They killed Father and widowed Mother,

They beat my sister and my brother.

We watched the neighbourhood disappear,

Why it was happening was really unclear.

Did they have no heart killing an innocent child?

When all it did was looked at them and smiled?

We watched them bulldoze our homes and streets,

And we began to prepare the coffin sheets.

We watched the bombs drop from the sky above,

Wishing we could finally be with those whom we love.

I will protect you, O Sacred Land till death do us part,

I vow to guard and defend you with all my heart.

You will forever be mine,

You are MY Palestine.

Zainab bint Hussain

Categories
Poems

The First Night in the Grave

Every soul shall taste death (Qur’an)

The first night in the grave,

You will forget every smile, every hug, every handshake and every wave.

The first night in the grave,

You will forget your job, your career, your bank account and every penny you saved.

The first night in the grave,

You will remember the Qur’an you read and the charity you gave.

The first night in the grave,

You will feel the tightness, the loneliness, the darkness, the emptiness… just like a cave.

The first night in the grave,

Only those with Salah, Fasting, Hijab, the Sunnah and Istighfaar will be brave.

The first night in the grave,

Another minute in the Masjid, another second of dhikr you will crave.

The first night in the grave,

With the tight squeeze of the qabr, you will forget every party and every rave.

The first night in the grave,

People will forget you quickly, rapidly, you will just be a name on a headstone engraved.

The first night in the grave,

You will beg for mercy, beg for time, beg to return and beg for your sins to be waived.

The first night in the grave,

Are you ready? Allah make it easy, may the path to Jannah be easily paved.

Ismail ibn Nazir Satia (one who is in dire need of Allah’s forgiveness, mercy and pleasure)

1 Rajab 1442

Categories
Poems

The Empty Chair…

Another day, news of yet another death,

Once again, we hear of someone who has just drawn their final breath.

For those of us left behind, it seems so surreal,

Struggling to cope with the immense loss we feel.

And although it may seem like at times the darkness is too much,

As we long to see our loved ones again, just a glimpse or a touch.

A hug from a parent, a smile from the Mrs, the voice of a husband offering to do the dishes, 

The words of wisdom of a grandma that you’d wish you’d wrote down,

Or the sound of laughter of a child who is no longer around.

None of these people can ever be brought back,

And yet for each of them to live on you don’t need a memorial plaque.

Live each day to the fullest, do good and make them proud,

Show people around you, you love them, don’t wait till they’re in a shroud!

And send them gifts each day for that’s all that the departed now from us need,

Intend to share the reward every time you do a good deed.

They say time is a healer but I don’t know if that’s true,

All I can promise you is that Allah will get you through! 

Written by @thetalentedteacher_

1 Jumada al-Awwal 1442

Categories
Poems

From a Proud Son…

Seven Years Today… NazirAhmed Daud Satia (Allah drench him in His mercy)

“The debt of people will be one day be repaid, the debt of your father can never be repaid.”

The world lost a gentleman of the very first degree,
A brave, noble, humble man, I’m sure you’ll all agree
.


He did not win a peace prize, did not cure the common cold,
He did not defend his country, he did not accumulate wealth and gold
.


More than that he was my dad, a leader, a loving friend,
A father to be proud of, a fighter ’til the end.

From a proud son…

Ismail ibn Nazir Satia (one who is in dire need of Allah’s forgiveness, mercy and pleasure)

27th November 2020 – 7 years today

Categories
Poems

Violence and Silence

You can’t fight violence with silence,

With silence there will always be a consequence.

Right is always right, wrong is always wrong,

This isn’t a fancy poem, this isn’t a musical song.

———————————————————————————

Whether you are Black, Brown, Yellow or White,

Whether your skin is dark or your skin is bright,

I don’t know why y’all get into a fuss and a fight,

We were all created different, but equal and right.

——————————————————————————–

Some of you look at Black people and say it’s so tight,

I think that in itself is racist – that is the height.

There are other words too but I wouldn’t ever write,

You might wana stop your tongue, you might wana give it a bite.

———————————————————————————

When you look at it in hindsight,

Whether you are brighter than the sun or darker than the night,

There’s no need to hurl abuse heavy as a meteorite,

Cos that will cause the fire to spread and you will ignite.

Just because you’re White doesn’t mean you’re right.

————————————————————————-

You can come from Africa, Ghana, Somalia or Nigeria,

Doesn’t mean you are low or should be treated as inferior.

You can be brown and come from China, Japan, Pakistan or India,

Doesn’t give you the liberty to be proud or think you are superior.

——————————————————————————-

Iraq, Libya, Yemen and Syria,

Tunisia, Palestine, Bolivia and Algeria …

We all have something in common, something familiar

It may sound strange, sound weird and peculiar.

But that’s what God taught us, what is in the Shareeah,

He SWT never judges you by your face, always by your interior.

—————————————————————————-

We’re all a bit racist, we’re all a bit stereotypical,

I don’t expect worldwide change from my words – but I hope they’re powerful and not just lyrical.

I’m not a politician, I’ve never been political,

I just speak my mind, speak my heart, which is just typical.

——————————————————————————–

I practise what I preach, I don’t wana sound hypocritical,

But racism is growing, it’s reaching its pinnacle,

This isn’t a myth or made up – it’s actually statistical.

——————————————————————-

Black, White, Woman or Man,

The message is simple, one you can understand.

It ain’t just and it ain’t fair,

To judge someone by the texture of their hair or their colour of skin,

To judge someone by the country they’re from or the village they live in,

Racism comes from within and needs to be thrown in the bin.

—————————————————————————

Murder is wrong, murder is pain, and murder is sinister,

Remember that’s somebody’s brother somebody’s sister.

I blame the people in power, the president and prime minister,

They don’t control their words and justify saying it was a tiny tongue twister.

——————————————————————————-

It was those people who created the Us and Them,

We’ve seen kids dying cos of this as young as ten,

Stuff that makes your heart and mind shake and shiver,

You don’t want to watch these things, I still feel the quiver.

They don’t care about our women, they don’t care about our youth,

They feed them lies and keep them away from the truth.

————————————————————————–

Pain is still pain, blood is still blood,

We’re are all from Adam (peace be upon him), from the same mud.

********************************************************

This poem was written to highlight the ongoing racism and prejudice in America, after the killing of George Floyd. We are all brothers and sisters in humanity, we should all feel the pain of Black people in America and across the globe. The Holy Qur’an teaches us:

“…if any one slew a person – unless it be for murder or for spreading mischief in the land – it would be as if he slew the whole people: and if any one saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of the whole people.”
[Al-Qur’an 5:32]

Such is the value of a single human life, that the Qur’an equates the taking of even one human life unjustly, with killing all of humanity. Thus, the Qur’an prohibits homicide in clear terms.

Ismail ibn Nazir Satia (one who is in dire need of Allah’s forgiveness, mercy and pleasure)

9 Shawwal 1441

Categories
Poems

Six Years On…

Abu Hurairah (RA) narrated that the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) said: “Three supplications are accepted, there is no doubt in them (about them being accepted): The supplication of the oppressed, the supplication of the traveller, and the supplication of his father against his son.”

(Jami`at-Tirmidhi, Book 27, Hadith 11)

Six years on, how quickly time has gone.

Six years on, the knight that once shone,

Is resting in his grave, with the help of no one.

He is covered from head to toe in dust, every single bone,

We can no longer hear his voice, nor listen to his tone.

We are deprived of his beautiful countenance[IS1] , the crispy smile was always known,

A smile which could melt a heart, even if it was made out of stone.

You spread your warmth everywhere, your seeds of graciousness were planted like an acorn,

Today, we see those fruits and high they have grown.

Allah protected you yesterday and will protect you today from even the prick of a thorn,

Because you left this world with a clean heart, not owing a debt and not owing a loan.

Let this rhyme be a reminder, for each and every one of us that we too have a time,

Death hovers over all of us, just like a drone.

Death falls suddenly and takes your soul as fast as a cyclone,

Death doesn’t announce on a speaker system, nor uses a microphone.

Ismail ibn Nazir Satia (one who is in dire need of Allah’s forgiveness, mercy and pleasure)