Explore Poems: Islam

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I WANT SKY
By Bazeed
In the hiding
hour of autophagy
ghosts hang out all day and talk to us.
An archival haunting demanding tribute:
half a lime for breakfast every day.
بشرٌ يئنّونَ من الألمِ
human voices keening in pain
تُشعلُ أجسادَهُمَ النارُ
their bodies, consumed by fire
light up the...
From the Sky
By Sara Abou Rashed
When I die,
bury me in the sky—
no one is fighting over it.

Children are playing soccer
with empty bomb shells
(from the sky I can see them).

A grandmother is baking
her Eid makroota and mamoul
(from the sky I can taste them).

Teens are writing love...
Allah Castles
By Faisal Mohyuddin
are what my son,
with a 5-year-old’s

sweetness, calls every
house of worship,

is how I can tell
he is a traveler too.

O, how many times
I’ve performed salah

in empty churches,
whispered ameen

at mass, made wudu
before holding

the Torah or the
Guru Granth Sahib,

nodded reverently
at the statue of Ganesh

in...
Waiting
By Noor Naga
This is a practical religion there is a prayer at dawn (beginning when it is light enough outside for a black thread to be distinguishable from a white thread and ending at sunrise) there...
The Mansion of My Childhood
By Mo H. Saidi
I

My father was tall, plump, old and cruel.
When he was late returning home, we’d
joke that he’d been taken to the morgue.

A story teller, he often would say,...
Reciting the Holy Book
By Mo H. Saidi
Mother recited the Koran every night.
None of us knew what those words meant.
She persuaded us to pray every day.
She would frighten us,
“You’ll go to Hell otherwise.”

Near the mosque I was born.
Reciting aloud the muezzin kept us
awake all night. Mother said,...
salat to be read from right to left
By Dujie Tahat
...
Interactive :: House Saints
By Hala Alyan
Anima Writes a Letter Home
By Nabina Das
Dear mother and father and old and young people of my home. Dear pets and weeds and flowers and footfalls. I write to you in a script speckled with time. I write to the language of a poet and many...
Glory Be to the Gang Gang Gang
By Momtaza Mehri
In praise of all that is honest, call upon the acrylic tips
and make a minaret out of a middle finger, gold-dipped
and counting. In the name of Filet-O-Fish, pink lemonade,
the sweat on an upper lip, the backing swell and ache
of Abdul...
Psalm
By Adonis
Translated By Kareem James Abu-Zeid & Ivan Eubanks
I amuse myself with my country.
I glimpse its future approaching on the eyelashes of an ostrich, I toy with its history and its days, I strike it with stones and thunderbolts. I extinguish its lamps and light its windows, and...
Ghazal
By Edil Hassan
it is dark here & still you have al nur at your neck when fajr does not come
my body is the color of mourning / not dua or dawah / so I say let the day come

my body is fajr...
Ode to Dalya’s Bald Spot
By Angel Nafis
my sister wraps the throw
around herself on the small
cream loveseat & i know
for sure that she is not
a speck of dirt on a pill.
she coughs & sniffs up all
the lucky air in the room
into her excellent nostrils,
which are endless
holy wells...
washee/was she
By Sahar Muradi
she was washee i told her you are
like your motherland a wilderness
needs a belt laid down two white
hotel towels took her into the tub to
wudu the boys out of her mouth pointed
her nipples toward qibla wiped clean
her intention to perform...
Unmotioning
By Aria Aber
Especially in line for the food bank,
my mother radiated grace. Talked
a machinery of Principles. Elm trees
and their dresses of urine, her small mouth
always chiding, don’t speak to a man of that kind.
This daily commitment to life felt laborious, haram.
Expendable it...
A woman is never still
By Afshan Shafi
At one time,
if my nails had been painted
this shade of rose-foam in Kabul
they would have rammed
out the frosted shell
like the tarp off
a bud’s wet belly,
they would have gouged out
each shining beast,
viscera still shiny,
each glittering pore
still insane
with breath

The pain is meant
to...
Small Talk
By Momtaza Mehri
you michelangelo’s crouching boy/you d’angelo’s purr/you dead currency/you dead presidents/you a stick of incense/you a stick-up artist/you haraami/you the hum of a lifetime basined in my lap/count our tallies of loss backward for me/run to the bank & translate it...
an introduction
By Sheena Raza Faisal
my god wakes up with bed head
and sticky fingers, doesn’t
want to go into work today

my god forgets to do the dishes
lets all the houseplants die

my god teenages
built this earth on Friday night
and tires of it on Sunday morning

my god commands
a...
@Allah
By Anjuli Fatima Raza Kolb
In a seaside desert port
that wasn’t yet a city
our grandfather built a wide house
and called it gulistan

There were no roses there
just the new government
four children that would be seven and a porch
where he stitched shoes and mixed paste
for paper...
Waiting for the Twelfth
By Kaveh Akbar
no one ever brings up the wages
of virtue the cost of avoiding

that which you were built
to do some men actually love

their enemies remind me to tell you
about them when you arrive and

when...

I WANT SKY

p1From the Sky

p1Allah Castles

Waiting

The Mansion of My Childhood

Reciting the Holy Book

p1salat to be read from right to left

p1Interactive :: House Saints

p1Anima Writes a Letter Home

p1Glory Be to the Gang Gang Gang

p1Psalm

p1Ghazal

p1Ode to Dalya’s Bald Spot

p1washee/was she

p1Unmotioning

p1A woman is never still

p1Small Talk

p1an introduction

@Allah

p1Waiting for the Twelfth

From the Sky

Allah Castles

salat to be read from right to left

Interactive :: House Saints

Anima Writes a Letter Home

Glory Be to the Gang Gang Gang

Psalm

Ghazal

Ode to Dalya’s Bald Spot

washee/was she

Unmotioning

A woman is never still

Small Talk

an introduction

Waiting for the Twelfth