Don’t MIND your gratitude


How do you weave the tapestry of gratitude into your heart so that your limbs lead the way?

I could answer, but answering would be worse!

Gratitude sitting in the mind,
is lesser than;
gratitude sitting in your heart;
is lesser than gratitude sitting in your limbs;
is lesser than gratitude acted out.



The heart can dry up,
even the most moist tongue,
uttering litanies of thanks,
uttering wanton prose of need,
is quietly begging rainfall,
to stir the seeds that lay dormant,
because we have a desire to be content,
and we know we can’t get it with stuff.

I’ve thus found it easier,
fought myself at both ends of my wit and found,
it’s not hard to be wet with contentment,
when you’re bathing in gratitude,
when you’re drowning in gratitude,

Alhamdullillah, wa shukr lillah


me world

I see you from a  mile away.

What’s wrong?
Your husband isn’t Don Juan?
His money not romantic enough for you?
You utter chameleon,
you’d no sooner be in love with another man,
than you’d divorce the idea of him too,
when he doesn’t praise you,
nor your narcissist need for approval.

Be grateful,
learn gratitude,
and to do that,
you need to learn of plenitude,
and how it will drown you for seeking it,
so walk to solitude,
away from the ego keeping you from rectitude.

Your erratic moods,
are brattish cries,
self perpetuated lies,
a call to be viewed.

But you can’t handle indifference,
a refusal to fight,
and my reluctance,
to be your muse.

Where in that head of lies,
did you ever think,
I’d be your interlude,
the between man of your fantasies,
and finger food,
a socialite, who’d pander,
to your disquietude?

Look at the mess you’ve created inside,
and outside yourself,
oblivious to the idea,
I can’t be pursued.

Ah you poor thing,
victim-hood has bought you many things,
given you a lifestyle to be dreamed of,
but you’re stuck in me-world attitude.





if God speaks to us
in language
ever so eloquently

it bewilders me
to think we’d reply
in anything but poetry


we think so grandly of ourselves,
that we’re walking to Him,
the truth is we’re stagnant,
it is He that has come rushing to our aid,
over and over,
and we think the carpet is not red enough,
the pedestal is not high enough,
the crown is not big enough,
it’s never enough,
but He is there,
of ingratitude,
of our oblivion.


The sincere

Part of an earlier piece I thought deserved to be on it’s own.
Always, and ever, anything I write is a conversation with myself first and foremost.
If any of you get benefit out of my conversations, I have a favour to ask.
Pray for me, wish well for me, even if you despise me. Even if you disagree with me, even if you don’t believe in God, think well for me, hope for me I remain true to the station of gratitude.
The only way this has manifested in my life is by the luxuries being removed and now when they are re-introduced, I am ever so grateful, and when they are removed again, it increases me even more.
And I am grateful for your prayers, your well wishes.


Gratitude; it’s not that hard.


Only a miser, won’t open the door to gratitude.

The sign of a good host is to always have their doors open
The Prophet Muhammad conditioned faith, to honouring of guests.

He said, “Whomever believes in God and the last day, should honour their guests”.

What uglier trait is there than a host who is annoyed at their guest.
What pungency exists in their heart that they think they own their dominion.
The very dominion that had it been willed, would have someone else’s title on it.
And you want to keep that door closed on the most gracious of guests?
One that will fill your soul with what you want?
Love cannot exist in your heart, prattle as you may with words of prose, if gratitude does not precede it. Gratitude even for the wounds inflicted on you, even by the very guest you allowed inside, even if it were gratitude itself inflicting the wounds, be grateful even for them.


patience and gratitude

Patience and gratitude
A reflection of attitude
Contentment of multitude
Adornment of plenitude
Calm of certitude
The seal of aptitude
Elevation of altitude
The souls amplitude

This was inspired by the previous post which was a quote from the infamous Omar Ibn Al-Khattab, but that’s what reading a quote from a heavyweight does to you.
It leaves you with an ocean of thoughts and inspiration.
Reading their whole works drowns you.
Maybe that is why I haven’t found much comfort in fiction.
I can’t digest three hundred pages of a person trying to take you on their journey with little prose, little wisdom, little truth. If you can’t satiate your reader with boundless meaning in a line, then you need to work more on reading non fiction poetry and works of masters.
I’ve never read a great writer who didn’t bathe in works of these masters.