By Bazeed
In the hiding
hour of autophagy
ghosts hang out all day and talk to us.
An archival haunting demanding…
hour of autophagy
ghosts hang out all day and talk to us.
An archival haunting demanding…
Explore Poems: Islam
Showing 1-20 of 51 poems
- By Sara Abou RashedWhen I die,
bury me in the sky—
no one is fighting over it.
Children are playing soccer
with empty … - By Faisal Mohyuddinare what my son,
with a 5-year-old’s
sweetness, calls every
house of worship,
is how I can tell
he… - By Noor NagaThis is a practical religion there is a prayer at dawn (beginning when it is light enough outside for…
- By Mo H. SaidiI
My father was tall, plump, old and cruel.
When he was late returning home, we’d
joke that he’d been… - By Mo H. SaidiMother recited the Koran every night.
None of us knew what those words meant.
She persuaded us to pray… - By Dujie Tahat[adhan]
messages Facebook me sends uncle My
does translator Facebook .understand barely I
.ح with … - By Nabina DasDear mother and father and old and young people of my home. Dear pets and weeds and flowers and footfalls…
- By Momtaza MehriIn praise of all that is honest, call upon the acrylic tips
and make a minaret out of a middle finger… - By AdonisI amuse myself with my country.
I glimpse its future approaching on the eyelashes of an ostrich, I toy… - By Edil Hassanit is dark here & still you have al nur at your neck when fajr does not come
my body is the color of… - By Angel Nafismy sister wraps the throw
around herself on the small
cream loveseat & i know
for sure that she is not… - By Sahar Muradishe was washee i told her you are
like your motherland a wilderness
needs a belt laid down two white… - By Aria AberEspecially in line for the food bank,
my mother radiated grace. Talked
a machinery of Principles. Elm… - By Afshan ShafiAt one time,
if my nails had been painted
this shade of rose-foam in Kabul
they would have rammed
out… - By Momtaza Mehriyou michelangelo’s crouching boy/you d’angelo’s purr/you dead currency/you dead presidents/you a stick…
- By Sheena Raza Faisalmy god wakes up with bed head
and sticky fingers, doesn’t
want to go into work today
my god forgets… - By Anjuli Fatima Raza KolbIn a seaside desert port
that wasn’t yet a city
our grandfather built a wide house
and called it gulistan… - By Kaveh Akbarno one ever brings up the wages
of virtue the cost of avoiding
that which you were built
to do some…