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حوائج آؤ ذرا لہر و ہوا دیکھنے چلیں ساحل سے ذرا کچھ لینے چلیں جیب میں اشیاء نہ کہیں ملیں بس آس کا علم ساتھ لے کے چلیں آؤ اس راہ پر قدم تو رکھیں باب الحوئج سے ذرا ملنے چلیں ہاتھوں سے تڑپتی آنکھوں کو ملیں کچھ اشک ذرا کوثر تک چھوڑنے چلیں دل کھول کر اس کریم کو مخاتب کریں واسطہِ عظیم پھر دیتے چلیں بےبازو سے ہاتھ جوڑ کے کہیں اس چھپے کو سامنے رکھ کے چلیں سانسِ سکون لے کر اب آگے بڑھیں آؤ منتظر اب سفر طے کر کے چلیں

Do you know who Ali is?! Secrets of the universe are his Paradise and hell he cleaves At his arrival the enemy flees The shallow religion he fought The path to spiritual climax he taught Beyond "qaba qawsayn ou adna" he appear His light illuminates the angelic sphere When the Prophet ascended Ali's voice was there God holds Ali dear and draws his lovers near Ali cried, "The one who asks learns, The divine mysteries in my heart burns!" Wisdom and knowledge from his words gushed Love was taught passion from him and rushed All darkness, devils and demons he fights With "Ya Ali" God seals and destinies writes Only a dead man who lacks sho'ur Doesn't sense his hozoor The dead become living by his noor To establish Ghadir Mahdi makes zohoor Over the entire universe he is the Imam Over him and his family God sends His Salam!

سیاہ پوش، سفید عمل، سپاہِ الٰہی مقامِ حق، تو سودا دنیاوی تنہائی گریہِ شاہ پیشِ نظرِ اُلٹ، مگر حملہ تو حاضر شاہِ فردوس اور استقبالِ غازی آنسو و لہو باہم عطا سرِ مصلّیٰ اطمینان تآ اختتام، کہ راہ ہے نورانی ظالم کی صدا صرف پھونک، نہ سدا شرط کہ وقت بعدِ ایامِ کمائی واسطہِ عظیم، مصروفِ سجدہِ دعا حاجتِ منتظر ہو قبول یا الٰہی

What is the value of a wound that quickly heals, if of its pain it does not bare tales? Let the drops of blood that pour from the wounds be the ink which is used for the quill, that seeks to write a eulogy Favorable it is to not tend to the blood soaked cut, but allow it to drip into the inkwell Therein the quills tip will taste the bitter flavors that come from blood soaked in tears Dried yellow parchment is all it needs, similar to the grim face of a depreciating body as the blood continues to flow the quill continues to write its eulogy. Eventually the wound and the whole body will cease to carry that which flowed through the veins and arteries The heart will drum no more and there will lie a lifeless body with its blood soaked eulogy.

To some we are royalty and to others of peasantry, aspiring to be greater, but to our misery, a paradox is what it seems to be. In one eye we ascend while in another we descend, a mere shift in paradigms is what will cause us to be of royalty or peasantry. As we loathe in one world in another we rejoice, suffering here while prospering there What then does one make of such chaos?

Assalamu alaikom. O Allah, May you grant peace and honor on Muhammad and his family. I humbly share this poem with you. If this is the wrong type of content for this site, please inform me and I shall remove it. Bismillahirrahmanirrahim. Oh Abbas! You have your father’s eyes. Oh Abbas, I’ve seen them filled with tears, Of a blood-red moon Sobbing in the sky. I’ve seen them laugh, The angel-white moon Of your holy brother’s love. But roar now, Lion cub! Roar! Oh Abbas! We bear witness on that final day, You are your father’s heart!

A piece of work which I've written and recorded in honor of the birth of Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib(as) Enjoy.

I say who cares, You so you do, But I don't believe it, Don't believe its true, I care for myself, What does myself have anything to do with you, How does me improving improve you, I ask you who cares and you still say you do, I avoid conversation so I don't really talk to no one, And that applies to you as well since you always seem close to me, But never speaking out vocally like you're supposed to be, But even if I don't speak or ask a question, You always respond with a sign, and a lesson So I find myself beside you not verbally saying words but internally my heart spills these adjectives and verbs make me want to say I love you while I stare at your face, I can't describe what you look like but your presence is beauty and I can't hear your voice because you don't reply you just give, and give more, I only see you every once in a while but your doors are always open, Now I can flourish, I learned, That death is always there, its loving that takes real courage, And now staying in silence Cause to me that's worse than violence I seek purpose in my life, A reason to wake up early and make a difference Cause living for no reason is foolish and senseless, I sought out an ear instead I found a path, A path not only straight but escalates like your climbing up stairs, All thanks to Allah, the one who always cares

I am one who weeps at the plight of the Martyr of Kerbala Won't the reward be given to me by the Keeper of Kauser (Imam Ali A.S ) "Slaughter of Hussain A.S is in fact the death of Yazid, Islam is revitalized after each event like that of Karbala." Story of the family (Haram) is unfortunate, simple and colorfull. It began with Ismael and ended with Hussain Neither are the battle grounds of the world new, nor are the opponents who are fighting. Same are the ways of (those who follow) Allah’s Lion (Imam Ali), and same are the ways of (those who follow) Marhab and Antar (with whom he fought). There are only and only two things which Islam have (or due to which Islam stands).. One is the striking of the Hand of Allah (Imam Ali's sword) and other is the prostration of Shabbir (Imam Hussain A.S )

Here's one of my favorite poems by Bulleh Shah: Na main momin vich maseetaan Na main vich kufar diyan reetaan Na main paakaan vich paleetaan Na main moosa na firown Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun Na main andar ved kitaabaan Na vich bhangaan na sharaabaan Na vich rindaan masat kharaabaan Na vich jaagan na vich saun Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun Na vich shaadi na ghamnaaki Na main vich paleeti paaki Na main aabi na main khaki Na main aatish na main paun Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun Na main arabi na lahori Na main hindi shehar nagauri Na hindu na turak peshawri Na main rehnda vich nadaun Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun Na main bheth mazhab da paaya Ne main aadam havva jaaya Na main apna naam dharaaya Na vich baitthan na vich bhaun Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun Avval aakhir aap nu jaana Na koi dooja hor pehchaana Maethon hor na koi siyaana Bulla! ooh khadda hai kaun Bulleya Ki jaana main Kaun

There are people who think the world may end tonight. There are things that we all see just beyond the edge of our limited sight. I'm writing love songs in invisible ink in the dark. But I'm running out of ways to say the things she never seems to hear. It doesn't matter if this is for the best; when it's all said and done, in the end we're all alone. I'm writing love songs in invisible ink in the dark. But I'm running out of ways to say the things she never seems to hear. What are the chances that it'll all come crashing down? So many things I meant to say; but now she's walking away. And about the things they think, you know, I have my doubts. So many things I don't believe but only one I ever cared about. I'm writing love songs in invisible ink in the dark. But I'm running out of ways to say the things she never seems to hear.

Salam I found this poem nice in Farsi so i figured maybe i should translate it for you. From an older to a younger brother: From your birthday til today was mine, remember? Remember in Tasooa when you were boasting, the white shirt of Saqha was mine, remember? The new pants you wore and went to school was mine, remember? When you wanted your ball back, the yelling of hajj mashallah was mine, remember? His funny stories he told you, the sorrows were mine, remember? When you were expelled from school, the fake signatures on parent notes were mine, remember? You and cousin were the ones going to the movies til late at night, auntie soghras yelling were mine, remember? The cigarette that mom found in the garden, but was it yours or was it mine? Remember? I worked a lot of low end jobs so you could build something of yourself, the secrets of 3-4 streets were mine, remember? You slept in comfortable fur, but the sleepless nights on cardboard was mine, remember? Your recklessness and your ignorance caused a lot of problems, but the beatings from the street gangs were mine, remember? Remember when things got bad you ran? The end of the fight was always mine, remember? I will be fair, sometimes you were better than me, but the tricks you used were mine, remember? Sometimes you found money among your books, I didn't want to say, but it was mine, remember? They used a hundred tricks to get you out of military service, standing guard at the post was mine, remember? You only visited one day, you filled two albums, yet the headband of hazrat zahra(meaning i went to war) was mine, remember? Those 200-300 tomans you used to buy a car, those were mine, remember? Remember you went to the villa with your buddies in eid, the complaints of the owner were mine, remember? The laughter on the beach were yours i remember, the cries in the heart of the desert were mine, remember? I became a driver so you could go to university, but the bachelors degree you got was mine, remember? The daughter of our neighbor that you in end left, you knew was mine, remember? I always went to the side so you could stay on top, all those 1000 mashallahs were mine, remember? The world ran after you and tore your shirt, but the jail of Zulaykha was mine, remember? The gold service of mom was all yours, the qadha prayers of dad was all mine, remember? All the inheritance of dad was all yours, but his picture in frame was mine, remember? Remember when you were sick the doctors said there is no hope? The Nazr(sofreh) that was done in Hazrat Zahras name was mine, remember? You know this better than anyone, when you smiled, the whole world was mine, remember!

As. At 3.48 in this poem he is saying subhana (mahdi) which i have learned it is is haram, because we cant say anything after subhana then Allah. ANd why does they translate is at " glorious is Allah" of mahdi (as)"? Maybe someone who understands farsi can help. I love this poem but is he actually saying some "very" haram if you can call it that. Best Regards.

I praise Your Names All ninety nine Of Your Names On weak Lips I praise Your Names You are greater Than everything, That I See I bow to You And only You, Is the praise Worthy Of So, I praise Your Names In remembrance Only You Shall be Prais'd

ISIS From Syria there came the men of dark To the call of Allah they claimed to hark But their faces told a different tale For in them, the Forces of Satan did prevail Each possessed a long, dark beard But it was their malicious hearts that were to be feared On to Iraq, their boots trudged Their only purpose: innocent blood They slaughtered and killed without respite People who never really wanted to fight. Women and children fell before their might And they said for Allah, it was alright Fellow Muslims were who they killed And they said it was what Allah willed Was this the religion the Prophet brought? Was this the path his companions sought? Where in the Quran does it say That the religion of peace shows this way? Is this what the Sunnah of the Prophet displayed? If he was here, would your actions be praised? So who is the Kaafir, me or you? I think you know the answer too You call yourself the Islamic State Yet in the end, hell will be your fate.

Such a PROFOUND and POWERING poem. Please pay attention to each and every word. May Allah bless him. He is amazing and ishAllah he spreads his ability so they all know of the beauty of Islam. This is my first time listening to him.

Auxiliaries for Friedrich Rückert With 99 names, it’s hard to rememberWhat He was called then, back in September,In that year of youth’s turning.Without knowing, but yearningFor something, much moreThan what came before,Before I found outI could not stop the doubt,And I was unable to frameWith any previous nameThat toward which my own soulWould drive me, as its goal.It was not a mere naught;I still felt a vague oughtWas trapped and fluttering in my rib cage,Stopped by the must’s of that particular ageWhen one knows not what one can,And a boy is not yet quite fully man,When the seal of the wilIs smudged by the thrillOf everything newThat comes into view.Yet inscribed within that sealThere was some purpose I could feel,Some bolt for the open gateOf freedom: a password and mandate.It buzzed around my earsamid my hopes and fearsand unfixed likes and fomentdetermined by the moment.Ought, must, can, will, should, and like,Are only helping verbs by which to strikeA phrase that may lead to a name,One of the 99, one that could enflameA heart for an eternity,But that would wait for destiny. Hajj Muhammad Legenhausen 13 Rajab 1434 / 24 May 2013 / 3 Khordad 1392 http://www.academia.edu/3589739/Auxiliaries_and_the_99_Names

Asalamo Alaikum, this is a poem I have written several months back. And before you begin reading, I would like you to know that I am a Christian, not a Muslim. Allah Falling down upon my knees, I lift my hands to the sky, Allah, my God, I hope to please, Forgive thy sins and every lie, My eyes glance away from the throne, I feel afraid and all alone, Your grace abounds to my soul, Ridding me of demons and ghouls, Your grace covers my very life, When all I deserve is horrid strife, I am unworthy of being with You, but you stay pure and very true, Sin blackens my lonely heart, Tearing my faith and joy apart, But, inshallah, I will be freed, From all this pain and hateful creed, Now I know the road is long, and many paths lead to wrong, But I am no longer afraid, for Truth was shown and carefully made, Lord, you've sent people to me, to show me what I'm supposed to be. Thank you for reading :) feel free to list any comments, questions, concerns, or even any helpful advice... I'll welcome it and appreciate it.

I search for the one, who I cannot see I know you are here, I know not where you be Your destiny to you, might yet not be known The Quran is our guide, your arrival will be shown Oh Ahl-Al Muhammad (pbuh) be revealed to this Earth Only from you, peace will see a rebirth You are the prophesied, the final Imam From almighty Allah, you are a gift for Islam Oh blessed one, shining star of above These words I convey to you, with so much love It is you who will raise the banner of Tawheed The destruction of Dajal, with Isa(as) you shall lead I search for the one who I cannot see The promise is ours, through you the Ummah will be free! By SHEREZADE

My arms await my returning love On that day I will be free like a Dove Try as they might to break this hold Our love story will be the greatest ever to be told From across the seas they were drawn to my charm Bearers of bad tidings have brought me nothing but harm Every hill and valley, every dust and stone Are witness to your tears my children, I am yours to own My savours will come, then the world will see These walls will fall, from occupation I will be free My beloveds will return to their rightful home I am the land of the blessed Golden Dome Over me the sun will forever shine I am Zaytoon, I am Palestine By SHEREZADE

This is a poem I wrote, Insh'Allah people may learn or benefit from this. The sun creeped higher the moon shone his name as long as the skies would allowColours roared across like fire Whilst stars needed to dim, but how Each sky ripped apartSeeing what was about to be They showered love from the startNow, crying & yearning so longly The head that held secrets unspeakable Knowledge unimaginableAnd love undeniable Began prostration Invincible was he to any oppressorBut this fatal strike would be ultimateIt was time to be with his master&for time is unstoppable Oh Ali we cry at the image of your painMay the wind guide you with easenow your fate shall reignYour serving may be over but your amazements shall always seize

(salam) Just a thought quickly put down, no real thinking going into it. Simple and short. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Death, death is everywhere, No not good death, nowhere, Watching news for signs of humanity, Instead, tears falling like gravity, Endless, driving me to insanity, Yet, becoming more like normality, Now only flowing like thick honey, Deserved enough to pay the blood money, Tears, no more, Cares, no more..

I was surfing the internet to find out more about Shaheed Baqir Al Sadr when i came across this poem The Birth Of A Martyr Ya Shaheeden, O’ most noble of men Your knowledge has become our knowledge And your pain is our pain You were killed defending the honor of this beautiful religion Who else could claim to be a son of Hussain? Struggle flows within your blood For after you Sayed Sadiq ascended to the skies above Blood spilled on the land that cradled the birth of our martyrs And because of you, with the struggle did we fall in love You told us to walk and we walked And yet today you are not walking with us You told us to resist and we resisted And yet you are not here to resist with us You told us to think and we thought And yet it matters not, for your thoughts live within us We believed he had killed the heart of Iraq The man who gave his life to stand We heard you had died but death did lie For who could kill the mind of a land? You who enlightened he who never met you The tear has been imprisoned upon the pages of your life For how could we cry when we read your story Tears do no justice to such a man We have become like the rifle in your hand We are the lions of that land And I am whatever your philosophy tells me I am O’ Baqir did you see him? Did you see him hang? Let it not be said that Iraq abandoned you By my Lord Baqir we have avenged you The lions of this land could not rest For we tied our ropes around that seemingly untouchable neck We took our revenge and from saddam our shackles were freed For you o’ Baqir we killed him For you O’ Baqir we killed Yazid Its quite beautiful :cry: