February 9

Who I Am!

By Izdehar Albowyha

Who I Am !

[Must Read To Know What is Hijab]
(An Excellent poem about the Muslim Woman)

What do you see
when you look at me
Do you see someone limited,
or someone free

All some people can do is just look and stare
Simply because they can’t see my hair

Others think I am controlled and uneducated
They think that I am limited and un-liberated

They are so thankful that they are not me
Because they would like to remain ‘free’

Well free isn’t exactly the word I would’ve used
Describing women who are cheated on and abused

They think that I do not have opinions or voice
They think that being hooded isn’t my choice

They think that the hood makes me look caged
That my husband or dad are totally outraged

All they can do is look at me in fear
And in my eye there is a tear

Not because I have been stared at or made fun of
But because people are ignoring the one up above

On the day of judgment they will be the fools
Because they were too ashamed to play by their own rules

Maybe the guys won’t think I am a cutie
But at least I am filled with more inner beauty

See I have declined from being a guy’s toy
Because I won’t let myself be controlled by a boy

Real men are able to appreciate my mind
And aren’t busy looking at my behind

Hooded girls are the ones really helping the muslim cause
The role that we play definitely deserves applause

I will be recognized because I am smart and bright
And because some people are inspired by my sight

The smart ones are attracted by my tranquillity
In the back of their mind they wish they were me

We have the strength to do what we think is right
Even if it means putting up a life long fight

You see we are not controlled by a mini skirt and tight shirt
We are given only respect, and never treated like dirt

So you see, we are the ones that are free and liberated
We are not the ones that are sexually terrorized and violated

We are the ones that are free and pure
We’re free of STD’s that have no cure

So when people ask you how you feel about the hood
Just sum it up by saying ‘baby its all good’

Category: Poems | LEAVE A COMMENT
February 9

The Muslim Woman "Unveiled"

ATT34396

By Izdehar Albowyha

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’s 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 centuries 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 Islam,
To You and Me!

Behind the veil I am the queen..
I have a body that nobody seen..
Many people think I am oppressed-
And wonder how I got myself into this mess..

My veil is my cure..
And makes my heart pure..
It earns me my love from Allah my Lord..
And makes me strong against any sword..

Behind my beautiful veil lies..
My saviour from the temptation of guys!
‘Behind my veil,’ I begin to say..
‘Is where I shall forever stay!’

February 8

The Knots Prayer

Dear God:
Please untie the knots
that are in my mind,
my heart and my life.
Remove the have nots,
the can nots and the do nots
that I have in my mind.


Erase the will nots,
may nots,
might nots that may find
a home in my heart.


Release me from the could nots,
would nots and
should nots that obstruct my life.

And most of all,
Dear God,
I ask that you remove from my mind,
my heart and my life all of the “am nots”
that I have allowed to hold me back,
especially the thought
that I am not good enough.
Amen.

Author Known To God

January 29

Beautiful Poem on Lady Fatema (AS)

Author of this article: Masoumah Murphy

Brandishing their torches
They stood outside her home
"Come out; plead thy allegiance!"
We want power for our own.

The assailants pounded even harder
And against the door they thrust
Between the wall and entrance
Our flower, she was crushed.

The assault, it wasn’t over,
Of that lady, mild and meek
The enemies of her husband
Struck her hard across the cheek.

She cried out loud, "O Father!
They’ve snapped the stem of your bud!"
She miscarried her unborn infant
And fainted in her blood.

Her health rapidly diminished
Our lady grew quiet, pale.
She knew her time was coming
She ached and she was frail.

She later called upon her husband,
"Ali, stay by my side.
I have some things to tell you.
My words you must abide."

"One request that I have for you
Is that once again you wed.
My niece, who loves my children,
I have chosen in my stead."

"Heed these words of mine, O husband!
Please don’t let them attend
My funeral – those who’ve done this –
When my life comes to its end."

"O Ali! When you entomb me,
Don’t dig a lonely grave.
Dig several all around me
So they don’t know where I’m laid."

"And, husband dear, you wash me
And wrap me in my shroud.
With your two strong arms embrace me
And lay me in the ground."

"Once I’m there do not forsake me.
Sit by my lonely tomb.
As my soul, like any mortal’s,
Is fearful of its doom."

"God’s will, you cannot alter.
I entrust my children unto thee.
This, maybe, will console you;
Of this world, I will be free.

She asked for her new garments
And camphor her father had given;
The scent of Paradise that Gabriel brought
As a gift to him from heaven.

As her strength subsided,
And she knew her time was nigh,
She made her ablution
And towards the Qiblah lay, to die.

She addressed her companion, Asma
On her lips, a secret smile
"I am fatigued and want to rest.
Call me in a while."

After an hour, when Asma called her,
Silence was the reply.
She knew her desert flower
Had wilted and had died.

As the news spread through the city,
Wailing women gathered near.
And men, impatient to carry the body,
Of Ali’s Zahra dear.

Abu Dharr called to the people,
"Please, in vain don’t you wait!
Today her body won’t be buried,
As it is very late."

Then quietly, in the moonlight,
With the chosen by his side,
Silently, they bore the coffin
Of Ali’s holy bride.

And as Ali lowered her body
To its final place of rest
Two arms just like the Prophet’s
Gathered her to its breast.

Inconsolable, grieving,
Ali’s courageous heart then broke.
And he gathered his motherless children,
All tearful, beneath his cloak.

At the break of dawn, his house grew silent.

As promised, he didn’t disclose
Nor answer any questions

Of where he buried his Arabian rose.

January 19

A Poem To Explain What Moharram Is All About..

Mazlum_Ya_Karbala_by_Sarab1400The Day the Skies Wept Blood
The tenth dawn of Islam’s new year, Seventy-two of the bravest who had nothing to fear,

Came out to battle for our pride,
Knowing that the journey to Heaven would be their very next ride.

On the blistering sands, under the scorching sun,
Stood the mighty Hussein, a soldier second to none,

With the fragrance of musk, it had to be said,
The skies of Karbala were already turning red.

Every ally wanted the honour of being first,
To drink the honey of paradise and quench their
thirst,

As each one’s body fell on the sand and mud,
It was Ashura, the day the skies wept blood.

A marriage in the tent during this grieving hour,
Abdullah knew that the time was not far,

In the attire of a groom, He set out to fight,
Realizing the loss, Sakina cried throughout that
night.

Abbas did not even drink a sip from the river,
But was hit by arrows from the trees’ rear,

Hussein’s final support ascended to the heavens,
It was now only Hussein and those inhumane devils.

But, Ali Akbar, the very valiant youngster the world has seen,
Was hit in the heart during the pinnacle of His teens,

The face of the Prophet (SA) with blood was smeared,
Hussein’s tears completely drenched His beard.

Asgar, the courageous six month old prince,
Fought for Islam’s pride without hesitance,

Until that heartless satan let his arrow fly,
Young Ali Asgar’s blood was taken by the sky.

Hussein ibn Ali, the Noble Son, and The Greatest Martyr,
Stood ready to fight with absolutely no fear,

Until a teary eyed Jibrael descended from the Heavens,
Allah’s wish is Your sacrifice Oh Highborn Eminence.

Hussein happily welcomed Allah’s Missive,
Bowed down to Sajdah for the future billions,

Zainab, cried aloud at the sight of Her mind’s eye,
Upon witnessing Her imperial brother peacefully die.

January 19

My Sins Block My Dua’a

By Anon

As I sit here alone, the tears rolling down my face
It is not salt, but pain that I taste

So I leave now to go stand before You
I am helpless and alone, what else can I do?

I have asked, I have begged but my sins block my dua’a
I will come now still begging, forgive me O Allah

Forgive me and grant me what it is that I ask
For me it is impossible but for You a simple task

I try and I try but I do not succeed
But I understand and know it is because Your Words I do not heed

I hear, yes I hear but I do not always obey
Perhaps that is why I am destitute, isolated and why You have written that I will be alone this way

I have no to blame but the person in the mirror I see
No one else must pay for my sins, no one else, no one else, no one else but me

So I stand before You to again beg forgiveness because You said that I can
You have told us in Your Book that You are Ar-Rahman

I will ask, I will beg but my sins my block my du’a
But I will keep asking, forgive me O Allah