Go Back To Your Own Country! Poetry Recital At Oxford University Islamic Society, 2015

Interview with MuslimView’s Masud Ahmed Khan

When A Poet of Tipperary Tried to Outdo Al Busiri!

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Once there was a poet

Who hailed from Tipperary

One day he said: “I know what I’ll do

I’ll be the new Busiri!

I am going to be the one and only

I am going to be a star

Muslims from all around will cheer

This is the new burda!

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How Can You Love Muhammad So Much?

How can you love Muhammad so much?
How can you show such devotion?
What do you see in this Arabian?
Why does he stir your emotions?
All we have heard is his harem of wives
Included the little girl Aisha
We hear of his call for Islamic jihad
And his Quran so hard to decipher.
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Abdul Razzaq and Abdul Ghani

There once were two men: Abdul Razzaq and Abdul Ghani.

Abdul Razzaq was a faithful man, who was very resourceful, with a talent for acquiring wealth. By the age of forty, he had paid off the mortgages of three properties, rented them out and his portfolio continued to grow promisingly.

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The Search For My Beloved

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I was roaming outside on the vast fields under the tearful sky searching for my beloved one.

I lost her the previous night, while I slept, while I drifted through the valleys of discontentment in my dreams. When I awoke, she was gone… And realising my folly, I rushed out of my house searching desperately for her. Searching up trees, walking into caves, scaling the solitary hills of woe. I had not found her and I was becoming a nervous wreck of a soul. Before I left, I rang my teacher and asked him what I should do.

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Seven Nufus Were On The Loose

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Seven nufus were on the loose

One day from Ramadan

They met in Sousse for some couscous

Before the maghrib azaan.

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Wine And Men

“What is she looking at?”

Lucy’s friends glanced at her and then at the figure on the other side of the street, who stood watching them, while they sat around the chic table outside a prestigious city wine bar.

“She’s been staring at us, or rather at me, for a long time,” remarked Lucy, flicking back her gorgeous, auburn hair, taking a long drag of her sleek cigarette nonchalantly like Greta Garbo.

“I don’t think she’s looking at you my dear,” remarked Lucy’s confidante, Roxanne, “she’s probably senile.”

“A bit creepy though,” chimed in their friend Saba. “That’s not right the way she’s just looking at us.”

“Don’t stare back!” insisted Lucy. “She might come up to us!”

Roxanne interrupted: “Just ignore her. Pretend she’s not even there.”

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Prayers on the Prophet for the Night Journey

Oh Allah send Your prayers and peace upon him

And upon his companions and kin

By the number of pearls of sweat on al buraq

Which cascaded as the sage ascended him

By the number of prayers the rider invoked

And the flutters of wings of his companions

By the number of sand stones at Al Aqsa

Which intoned his praise as he dismounted

By the number of Prophets that humbly stood

As the chosen one led with equilibrium

And the number of contours in the rock

And the streams of wind as the travellers took off

By the number of times the wise one was hailed

By each Prophet as the levels he scaled

And the number of shimmering branches on Al Muntaha

Ad infinitum they communed Lover and Beloved

From the day You made this life

To the end when we arise

Every day a thousand times!

 

 

 

RAW OIL!

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Keep them barrels rolling

Keep countries invading

RAW OIL!

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