What happened to my Imaan -----

What happened to those days when my Emaan was strong?
When I wouldn't dare think of doing anything wrong

When my yaqeen in Allah(swt) would lead me through
The good and bad .. the old and new

What happened to those days when my du'aa was sincere?
When there was absolutely nothing on earth that I would fear

When I was certain that Allah(swt) was really near
And would run to Him and leave all that is dear

What happened to those days when I could read and recite Quraan well?
When I bought al-Janna and this dunya I would sell

When my heart was pure and all full of light
When my qiyam was my only source of strength and might

What's wrong my nafs .. why did you fall?
Don't you know that Allah(swt) knows and hears your call?

A little test like this one shouldn't beat you so
It shouldn't pull you down to a level so low

Don't you know that Allah(swt) chooses what is best
And that this is all a previously planned test

Don't you know that He(swt) hears your soul .. He(swt) hears your cry
He(swt) sees you fall… He(swt) sees you sigh

Allah(swt) is Great… Allah(swt) is Al-Hakeem
His ways are just no matter how dark it may seem

Hold on my nafs to the fireball in your palm
Hold on to it and when it burns act calm

Whenever it falls, bend down and restart
Let those tears fall and wipe that heart

Remember my nafs the beauty of the promised firdaus
You know it's your dream to build there a house

Get back on your feet and go back to those days
I know this only a passing phase ..
Then which of the Blessings of your Lord will you both (jinns and men) deny?(55:16)

You must not Quit

A BEAUTIFUL POEM :

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
when the road you 're travelling seems at uphill,
when your money is low and your debts are high
And you want to smile but you have to sigh

When problems are pushing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but never quit.

Life is strange, with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When we might have won if we'd stuck it out;

So stick to your job, though it's going slow-
You may succeed with one more go.

Success is failure turned inside out-
It's a silver lining in the clouds of doubt-
And you never can tell how close you are
Success may be near when it seems to be far;

so keep up your effort when you're hardest hit-
It's when things seem the worst that "'YOU MUST NOT QUIT"

Beauty in the Beard

Poet : Tushar Imdad-ul-Haque Bhuiya (12th March 2001)

I came to eat dinner in my halls of residence one day last year when two sisters started laughing at me; I had some food stuck in my beard. They went on to innocently and honestly mock my beard saying it was messy, unnatural and unhygienic. Little did they know the rage that I felt as a result of this and I channeled this rage by unleashing my
anger through my pen and out came this poem.

I performed this poem in the Leicester University/DMU Islamic Societies and Eid Celebration and it was received with much laughter and acclaim – Alhamdulillah. Due to popular demand and many requests I have decided to type my poem up and email it to my friends in Islam.
Let me remind you all not to be offended as this is no fatwa or religious statement – just a funny poem that spontaneously was produced as a result of my unfortunate experience…

Glorified be He who beautifies women with long locks of hair
And Men with long beards
There is beauty in the beard
Aye, there is beauty in the beard!

When the lion roars all the animals submit
For the lion is the king of the jungle
The lion with its glorious mane
And a Muslim man grows his mane in pride
Showing the rest of humanity that he is to be respected
Can one imagine a lion without its mane?
Nay, thou canst not!
Then imagine a man without his beard

Woe to worldly women who mock the beards so!
Desiring husbands with clean shaven faces
Woe to women who mock the Prophet’s Sunnah
In the name of hygiene, neatness and smooth texture
Indeed the women of this world cannot like the beard
But she who wants Paradise adores the beard!

A beard is a gift given to man
Something only he can grow; a woman never can!
When he ponders, he gently strokes it;
When he eats, it stores food;
When he is with kids, they play with it adoringly;
When he is with his wife, she fondles it lovingly;
When the enemy see it, fear is struck in their hearts!
Ah! there is indeed beauty in the beard!

All the Prophets had beards – yes they did!
Muhammad had a beard – so big! so big!
All the companions had beards – o yes! o yes!
All the sages had beards – I know! I know!
All the wise have beards – tis true! tis true!
All the pious have beards – you see! you see!
All the Muslims have beards?! – if only! if only!

Who did not have beards? The kafirun!
Who had clean shaven faces? The kafirun!
Who grew their moustaches? The kafirun!
“And what did our Prophet order?” I hear you ask
He ordered us to lengthen the beard and trim the moustache!
Lengthen the beard and trim the moustache!
What greater reason that this can there be
The fact that our Prophet told us to see
That we make ourselves appear to the world
As full bearded men with honour untold

O Muslim brother! Why do you desire to look like a woman
When your blessed facial hair is the differece between you and the opposite gender?
O poor Muslim brother! Why do you imitate the kafir
Instead of following the Prophet of Islam?
O silly Muslim sister! Why are you so blind?
Infatuated with Bollywood actors who have no mind!
O wretched sister! Are you not scared of your choice?
You would rather have a feminine monkey instead of an exalted manly ape!

So indeed I love my beard
And adore the curls and tangles
Which no oil, gel or superglue can ever straighten
My glorious long, curly, messy, fluffy beard!
The playhouse for kids;

And the beloved of Allah!
I maybe rejected by worldly women because of this hair on my face
But who care! For my Mum loves it and she puts all such sisters to disgrace!
Be patient Muslim brothers, who shun the trendy look for a Prophetic pose
Paradise with the wide eyed Houris is our final abode!!!!!

Scarf of a muslimah

By: Nura Alia Hossainzadeh

They stand there with shorts, so short, excessively short,
shorts that so deceptively capture from them all they know
of modesty...

...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair

They stand there, face lost in a sea of make-up,
make-up that so ruthlessly captures from them all they know
of freedom...

...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair

They stand there, hair raining with gels, colors -
chemicals that so menacingly capture from them all they know
of purity...

...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair

They stand there, so close, so very close to their "lover",
devoted to them, the devotion that so mercilessly captures
from them all they know of individuality...

...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair

And they stand there, talking of getting new shorts, new gels
and colors, new boyfriends, materialistic things
that so wrongfully capture from them all they know
of God and love...

...and I proudly pull my scarf over my hair

For my scarf is my protector, my lover, my devotion,
my pureness, my beauty, my rememberance of God,

And I proudly pull it over my hair knowing that when I wear it,
I so rightfully thrust away all the things that the devil
brought about,

And when I put it on, I am

Free...

Am a muslim only by name

I am a Muslim but Only by Name
I am a Muslim, but only by name
When it comes to practising, what a shame!
I go to friends and relatives in suit and tie
It’s alright if I occasionally lie
Yes I practise, BUT when it suits me
Or more to the point, when it pleases society.

If I show my ankles, they’ll point and laugh
They’ll think it’s too short and reckon I’m daft.
If I trim my moustache and grow the beard
They’ll reckon I’m a fanatic or something weird.

If I wear the sunnah I’ll get great reward
But the Kuffaar will look down on me, that I can’t afford.

Yes I’m a Muslim, but only by name
I make excuses which I admit are rather lame.
Yes I’m a sane man and I’m on the right track
Who am I kidding, I feel like a right jack!
To hide my inferiority complex I protest it’s unimportant

Though my heart screams to tell me I’m a blatant fraudulent
The best thing is no-one can hear what’s going on inside
People think I’ve got it made and with my life I’m satisfied.
But I’m afraid this is a fable and it’s a pure deception
I have no peace of mind but this I daren’t even mention.

If I remain ignorant it’s OK, ‘cos then I don’t have to practise
Yes I’m conniving and these are baseless evil tactics.
But I read the Kalima and I think I have Imaan
I can’t help my attitude I was placed in a Kufrstaan.

Yes I’m a Muslim but only by name
And with my precious life I’m playing a foolish disastrous game!