Muharram the beginning but never the end
It’s the first day of the month, when a mother dresses her children in black, pakeezah (pure) attire, putting away all party outfits and bringing out modest, simple clothing.
Poems
Read the poems
11 poems in the archive.
Filter
Clear allOccasion
Form
Subject
Ali Akbar (a.s.)Ali Asghar (a.s.)Bibi Fatima (s.a.)Bibi Zainab (s.a.)GhadeerHazrat Abbas (a.s.)Imam Ali (a.s.)Imam Askari (a.s.)Imam Baqir (a.s.)Imam Hadi (a.s.)Imam Hassan (a.s.)Imam Hussain (a.s.)Imam Jawad (a.s.)Imam Kazim (a.s.)Imam Mahdi (a.t.f.s.)Imam Reza (a.s.)Imam Sadiq (a.s.)Imam Zainul Abideen (a.s.)KarbalaProphet Muhammad (pbuh)Qasim ibn Hassan (a.s.)
Insane in Husseyn
I don’t trust the world to still be there,
Your Master
O whose Master I am,
Ali, Unknown Is He
Wherein do peaks stand when I speak of you?
Ibn e Makkah o Mina
O who you don’t know me
Echoes of Adhan e Fajr
With the echoes of azan e fajr
Yours Again
If I were to die and be reborn into flesh,
The Caravan
The caravans of mystery boxes
Bayn Al Harmain
I stand between the sun and the moon
Muhammad & Hasan
What did we lose tonight?
Be Taken
How a street turned silent