Islamic Sciences, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem: Jannat Al Bakee جَـنَّـة الْـبَـقِـيْـع‎,

In every living time and place.

There lies an Al Baquee.

A place destroyed by wrong ideas.

Lies scattered in the breeze.

And of these stones or tyrant”s thrones.

God raises seed and kin.

To teach mankind about himself.

Releasing us from sin.

Love itself does meet us there,

And guides us safely home.

Rasing thoughts to higher calls.

Away from shattered domes.

From darkened sense of sorrows hence.

We must not look away.

But far from clay and broken wood.

Love itself does stay.

Look inside your own dear heart.

And find your Al Baquee.

Build upon the terrors raged.

For there lies Love’s decree.

To find your peace when wrong ideas.

Attacks seem far and wide.

To know that Love is ne’er destroyed.

It’s always by your side.

Bring the stones of peace and Love.

Rebuild your Al Baquee.

A daily act of kindness builds.

A shrine eternally.

Look no more to desert lands.

And Baquees far away.

Prefer to look to your own heart.

And build your shrine tbis day.

Daily salat and duas

cement the stones in time.

Zariat adds the precious jewels.

That no man can design.

Love for those who hate you still.

Will add the Golden doors.

And daily zikhr will ensure.

Mosaic tiled floors.

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Christian Science, Poems, Uncategorized

A poem on Integration

Written in Oban:

What good is found in mortal mind, In dreams and people’s views? Wandering round confusion bound, in dead, old worldly shoes

E’en in the sun no good can come, nor rain, fog, storm or dew, but holiness is typified, In some worldly points of view.

Look beyond the worldly scene. Of arab, gentile, jew. And you will find in conciousness. The Spirit that shines through.

With larks and beauty yet unseen, as powerful Love presents, with views on high like eagle’s eyes, of music yet unspent.

A world of Love and colour brings. To each man with his lyre, That one and all, we are the same, reflecting Love’s desire.

Islamic Sciences, Poems, Uncategorized

Love is my Religion by Ibn Arabi

“قلب من پذيراي همه صورت‌ هاست
قلب من چراگاهي است براي غزالان وحشي
و صومعه‌ اي است براي راهبا ن ترسا
و معبدي است براي بت‌ پرستان
و كعبه‌ اي است براي حاجيان
قلب من الواح مقدس تورات است
و كتاب آسماني قرآن
دين من عشق است
و ناقه‌ي عشق مرا به هر كجا خواهد، سوق مي‌دهد
“عشق ، دین وایمان من است

شیخ الاکبر محی الدین ابن عربی اندلسی -مذهب عشق

لقد صار قلبي قابلا كل صورة
فمرعي لغزلان و دير لرهبان
و بيت لاوثان و كعبة طايف
و الواح تورات و مصحف قرآن
ادين بدين الحب اني توجهت
ركائبه فالحب ديني و ايماني
شیخ الاکبر محی الدین ابن عربی اندلسی -مذهب عشق

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem about Kilbirnie North Ayrshire

The Kilbirnie Harp

If Kilbirnie were a harp with strings
I’d surely sweep a strain,
An everlasting melody
Which no man could restrain

I’d write a song of thanksgiving
Of peace and love and cheer
To bless the town with all its woes
Bring pleasure to their ears

I’d play the song on Knoxville road
And at the Walker Hall
I’d play it at the Labour club
While drunkards take their fall

I’d play the harp so silently
For those who hate the sound
To aid them out of hopelessness
To turn their lives around

I’d sweep a strain of sad refrain
At steel works passing by
I’d touch upon a melody
And older folks would cry

I’d play it softly at the match
While folks would cheer their team
And move along the park so long
To watch the Garnock stream

I’d play the harp across the tracks
As cyclists speed me by
I’d play and wait at graveyard’s gates
For mourners with their sighs

I’d play it at the Garnock’s heart
Right up at Jacob’s Well,
where no one goes to see it flow
Or care to even tell

I’d play a tune right at the school
The Children would be pleased
I’d pass the harp to little ones
To hold upon their knees

So to the town with all my sounds
And everlasting strains
I leave the harp right at the cross
For others who remain

To strain their sounds of happiness
And hope for all the town
To watch it grow with sadness no!
As an everlasting crown.

Christian Science, Islamic Sciences, Poems, Uncategorized

Kerbala Poem

In every place and time there lies
a blood stained kerbala land
where people die with martyr´s blood
which stains the yellow sand

perhaps a place within our minds
which kills all false ideas
but with it love and peace are pushed
to fall and disappear

like Hussain on the battlefield
or Hasan´s poisoned cup
we seem to live history anew
by thoughts which do corrupt

Silently we think our thoughts
from places dark inside
which reaps a battle outwardly
which never does subside

and then we mourn as saints the men
whose blood they left behind
not knowing we ourselves did kill
by our false thoughts in mind
Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

To a young friend

What wakened thoughts are in your mind and push until you hear?

What dreams and hopes of higher things will speak until you hear?

What lies ahead for one so young, a mill or engineer?

Put down the pot and know your lot. Sweet friend of heaven dear.

Claim your right to make a life, just let it rest in mind,

Feel the love of Life come back and live your life aright.

And when your demons come and pull, forget the battles won?

Tindrels of Love from higher self will bless you my dear son.

Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

The Oak, A #poem about #Kilbirnie #northayrshire

The background to this poem is that after the steel works closed, the area dropped into a recession both economic and social . It seemed to me that the older generation did not feel a lot of hope at that time. As the years passed the town became an unemployment blackspot with very limited views of itself.  On top of this,  there were sectarian feelings and hysteria passing through generations of some families about  religion. At its peak, I felt that members of my own family were killing each other by shunning and silence.

I wrote this poem to honour those people whose lives were utterly destroyed by these limited opinions.

The Oak

If all who claimed to love someone
Came under one oak tree
The town would surely empty up
Walking towards the spree

Perhaps the public park’s too small
To hold nine thousand folk
Maybe the Golf course or at Place
There lies that sacred oak

Or in a field at Baillieston
With branches stretching high
Would crowds of folk bustle around
Show love with tearful eyes?

If Love brought down from empty shelves
Like books or DVDs
Was brought to act in people’s lives
What feelings there would be

Main street perhaps with rose petals
Or colours from the blooms
People chatting at the cross
While bands played Tara Boom

If everyone said simply “thanks”
To neighbours, friends and foe
Or if per chance a pleasant smile
So Love may freely go

What if the morn brought questions like,
Who can I bless today?
How much a little town could change
And put her on her way.

Imagine Tesco selling love
What sadness that would be
For surely that would mean a death
to sacred old oak trees