The Khan's Devil
The Khan came from Bokhara town
To Hamza, santon of renown.
'My head is sick, my hands are weak;
Thy help, O holy man, I seek.'
In silence marking for a space
The Khan's red eyes and purple face,
Thick voice, and loose, uncertain tread,
'Thou hast a devil!' Hamza said.
'Allah forbid!' exclaimed the Khan.
Rid me of him at once, O man!'
'Nay,' Hamza said, 'no spell of mine
Can slay that cursed thing of thine.
'Leave feast and wine, go forth and drink
Water of healing on the brink
'Where clear and cold from mountain snows,
The Nahr el Zeben downward flows.
'Six moons remain, then come to me;
May Allah's pity go with thee!'
Awestruck, from feast and wine the Khan
Went forth where Nahr el Zeben ran.
Roots were his food, the desert dust
His bed, the water quenched his thirst;
And when the sixth moon's scimetar
Curved sharp above the evening star,
He sought again the santon's door,
Not weak and trembling as before,
But strong of limb and clear of brain;
'Behold,' he said, 'the fiend is slain.'
'Nay,' Hamza answered, 'starved and drowned,
The curst one lies in death-like swound.
'But evil breaks the strongest gyves,
And jins like him have charmed lives.
'One beaker of the juice of grape
May call him up in living shape.
'When the red wine of Badakshan
Sparkles for thee, beware, O Khan,
'With water quench the fire within,
And drown each day thy devilkin!'
Thenceforth the great Khan shunned the cup
As Shitan's own, though offered up,
With laughing eyes and jewelled hands,
By Yarkand's maids and Samarcand's.
And, in the lofty vestibule
Of the medress of Kaush Kodul,
The students of the holy law
A golden-lettered tablet saw,
With these words, by a cunning hand,
Graved on it at the Khan's command:
'In Allah's name, to him who hath
A devil, Khan el Hamed saith,
'Wisely our Prophet cursed the vine
The fiend that loves the breath of wine,
'No prayer can slay, no marabout
Nor Meccan dervis can drive out.
'I, Khan el Hamed, know the charm
That robs him of his power to harm.
'Drown him, O Islam's child! the spell
To save thee lies in tank and well!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Fugitive. (Tartar Song, From The Prose Version Of Chodzko)
I.
'He is gone to the desert land
I can see the shining mane
Of his horse on the distant plain,
As he rides with his Kossak band!
'Come back, rebellious one!
Let thy proud heart relent;
Come back to my tall, white tent,
Come back, my only son!
'Thy hand in freedom shall
Cast thy hawks, when morning breaks,
On the swans of the Seven Lakes,
On the lakes of Karajal.
'I will give thee leave to stray
And pasture thy hunting steeds
In the long grass and the reeds
Of the meadows of Karaday.
'I will give thee my coat of mail,
Of softest leather made,
With choicest steel inlaid;
Will not all this prevail?'
II.
'This hand no longer shall
Cast my hawks, when morning breaks,
On the swans of the Seven Lakes,
On the lakes of Karajal.
'I will no longer stray
And pasture my hunting steeds
In the long grass and the reeds
Of the meadows of Karaday.
'Though thou give me thy coat of mall,
Of softest leather made,
With choicest steel inlaid,
All this cannot prevail.
'What right hast thou, O Khan,
To me, who am mine own,
Who am slave to God alone,
And not to any man?
'God will appoint the day
When I again shall be
By the blue, shallow sea,
Where the steel-bright sturgeons play.
'God, who doth care for me,
In the barren wilderness,
On unknown hills, no less
Will my companion be.
'When I wander lonely and lost
In the wind; when I watch at night
Like a hungry wolf, and am white
And covered with hoar-frost;
'Yea, wheresoever I be,
In the yellow desert sands,
In mountains or unknown lands,
Allah will care for me!'
III.
Then Sobra, the old, old man,--
Three hundred and sixty years
Had he lived in this land of tears,
Bowed down and said, 'O Khan!
'If you bid me, I will speak.
There's no sap in dry grass,
No marrow in dry bones! Alas,
The mind of old men is weak!
'I am old, I am very old:
I have seen the primeval man,
I have seen the great Gengis Khan,
Arrayed in his robes of gold.
'What I say to you is the truth;
And I say to you, O Khan,
Pursue not the star-white man,
Pursue not the beautiful youth.
'Him the Almighty made,
And brought him forth of the light,
At the verge and end of the night,
When men on the mountain prayed.
'He was born at the break of day,
When abroad the angels walk;
He hath listened to their talk,
And he knoweth what they say.
'Gifted with Allah's grace,
Like the moon of Ramazan
When it shines in the skies, O Khan,
Is the light of his beautiful face.
'When first on earth he trod,
The first words that he said
Were these, as he stood and prayed,
There is no God but God!
'And he shall be king of men,
For Allah hath heard his prayer,
And the Archangel in the air,
Gabriel, hath said, Amen!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Dream Ring of the Desert
THE MERCHANT Abu Khan shunned the customs of his race,
And sought the cultured wisdom of the West.
His daughter fair Leola had the desert’s supple grace,
With an English education of the best.
The suitors for her hand were as grains of desert sand
But the merchant bade the Arab swarm begone:
And he swore a mighty oath, she should only make troth
With an Englishman an Englishman or none!
The chieftain Ben Kamir, tho’ rejected, stayed to plead,
But Abu Khan replied, ‘Thy suit is vain.
I cast aside my kinsmen and I scorn the prophet’s creed;
So get thee to thy tents, across the plain.’
‘Enough,’ the Chief replied, ‘Thine eyes are blind with pride,
But Allah hears my prayers and guides my star,
With patience I shall wait till I am called by Fate,
And then I shall return to Akabar.’
The right man came at last in the month of Ramadhan,
An Englishman who learned to love her soon.
His suit was proudly sanctioned by the merchant Abu Khan,
And the wedding was to be at the full moon.
The merchant, in his pride, thought the news too good to hide,
And it circled round the desert near and far:
Circled round and caught the ear of the chieftain Ben Kamir,
And he turned his camel’s head to Akabar.
The chieftain wore his robe of green, an emblem of his rank.
And many bowed in honour of the man.
But heedless of their reverence he beat his camel’s flank,
And rode on to the house of Abu Khan.
The merchant, from his roof, saw the chief, but held aloof
A suitor twice dismissed was one to shun
But Kamir declared his ride was in homage to the bride,
And the merchant’s fears vanished one by one.
‘Leola,’ said the Arab, as she came to greet the guests
‘Thy praises are beyond what I can sing,
But let this little token bring the fortune of the best.’
And he placed upon her hand an opal ring.
‘’Tis more than what it seems, and its spell shall gild thy dreams,
For ’twas carried by Mahomet, Allah’s Priest.’
Then the chieftain said goodbye, and she watched him with a sigh,
As he rode across the desert to the East.
Leola dreamt a dream most strange, and nightly ’twas the same,
And love within her breast began to peep.
A voice from out the burning sandhills called and called her name,
And waking she would long again for sleep.
The wedding eve’s bright moon saw her rise as from a swoon,
With the dream voice ringing still within her ear,
Saw her glide toward the sand, where the stately palmtrees stand,
To the desert, and the arms of Ben Kamir.
The chieftain pointed Eastward to the plains he loved so well,
And told her of his plans for hasty flight.
The dream-ring on her finger held her soul within its spell.
And they rode across the desert thro’ the night.
On the morrow, lined with care, at the Maghrib sunset prayer,
The merchant joined the worshippers unshod.
And he cried with spirit broken, as the Mueddin’s chant was spoken,
‘Mahomet is the prophet, God is God.’
poem by John Milton Hayes
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Ghenghis Khan
Genghis Khan was a ladies man
on constant call for booty.
He’d conquer towns, and then sleep around
like it was his sacred duty.
He swept the steppes of maiden heads
on his own star search for beauty.
He tapped the ass of many a lass
from Princess to common cutie.
From his nomad home to just North of Rome
So widely spread was his chromosome
That this years Khan Reunion
Is scheduled for the Super dome
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Emptyness
Oh how I miss you
An empty space in my heart
As I remember how you keeped me strong
Your kind words
The joy you gave
As I go to sit by your side and feel at peace
How do I stay strong remembering your kind words
Everything around me reminds me of you
One of the best parts of my destany
May Allah keep me strong
May Allah keep you safe
May we meet again one day my love.
My husband died 8th August 2008
poem by mariam khan Farah Abdulahi
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The dog, s life
A narrow mind of narrow ways,
dog, s dream have shit always
a battle for a piece of flesh
to get the supremacy,
to become the king of street.
having a long run without a goal
just to get some heat for blood
just to conqure the another body
just to win a richer soul,
nothing is differ between me and a dog,
both have the same life.
then what, s wrong if anyone abuseing me
'The dog'
by-adil khan
I have to ask Allah's forgiveness and not get angry, because they come to me out of love, and it's not fitting that I should turn to them in hatred.
quote by Abdul Qadeer Khan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slow the love (Continues) Final Episode Undone
The beloved asked who told you this
Art thou God to decide the fate
Calling the episodes as the final
Did not the love tell you of the thought
So sacred but the blasphemy of love
As the story goes when the legendry lover
Adam Khan* dies with story teller in tears
From the audience a man with a sword
Bring him back or you pay with your life
The horse with the wings that thou flyeth
In the visions ah the beloved appeared
In dreams in the nature in the loneliness
Of nights and the afternoons thou spent
The episode who knows what final or primal
From the beloved thou wanted separation
In the religion of love none worshiped
None worshipper as no rituals in play
No ablution no baths in the rivers
Nothing is sacred and nothing is dear
Yet thou think to close the episode
Let the beloved be the guide don’t meddle
Decide not the fate that thou knowest not
Nothing in here and let the mystery
Of love unfold for the eyes and the ears
On the soil and down the horse on doorstep
To the city of love with the pride
Leave the judgment to the universal soul
He shall not judge the lovers as judgment for what
Just a breath away is the annihilation in waiting
Hold on the hands of beloved for a dance tonight
*Adam Khan-Durkhanai, epic story of love.
7/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Someone Special
There are few people in your life that are special to you
Someone you love and you cannot see in pain
She is that someone special to me, having the qualities of a good person
She has a kind heart, someone who is humble
She is someone who is always ready to give a smile
But here stay is only for a short time
She is optimistic, she is down to earth
When she comes, our house gets bustled
Her father and family have somehow some problems
Yet she remained firm and patient
Knowing The Almighty would help them
An ode to someone special
An ode to my beloved cousin……………….
Nosherwan Khan
7/9/08
poem by Nosherwan khan
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“Execution Of Summer”
A Sonnet for Ian Bowen's challenge called Summer's end XXX
There’s a picture of summer I can see
through my autumnal heart that alleges
the guilt of summer before winter’s plea
chasing no path, the victims are the hedges.
The short promissory note singed by June
has been lost without trace I’m believing.
Winter’s mocking spell on September’s moon
has handcuffed sunshine who talks of leaving.
Dying green, brace yourself! for purple day.
Witness flowers still have something to spread.
Falling and leaving makes the verdict say
that summer will lie in electric bed.
Execution of summer by ink blot!
Summer's picture now gets triple X hot.
Written on 8th August,2011
©Munia Khan 2011
poem by Munia Khan
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Hakim Kahn
When first I found this forest place
More years ago than I can tell,
I met a man of alien race
And came to know and like him well;
A humble hawker, spare and tall,
Dark faced, a handsome, bearded man;
And often now bush folk recall
The kindly smile of Hakim Khan.
He plied his trade in ways remote,
Where bush-wives pawed his varied stock:
A working shirt, a winter coat,
Socks, handkerchiefs, a cheap print frock.
They chaffered with him till, at eve,
With well-fed horse and well-kept van,
Sim Jackson's block, by Jackson's leave,
Served as camp for Hakim Khan.
And many a talk and many a tale
We had together long ago.
He told me of the pleasant vale
Of Kashmir, where the roses grow:
And, while he spoke, his fine, dark eyes
Saw nought of bush or hawker's van,
But other scenes and other skies
That held the dreams of Hakim Khan.
And while the meat, that his own hand
Had slain, cooked o'er the camp fire's glow,
He spoke of this new, kindly land,
And kind, good men he'd come to know,
His white teeth flashing in a grin,
He spoke of Jackson - "that nice man,
Grass for my horse." Small gifts could win
Deep gratitude for Hakim Khan.
For, when Sim Jackson lost his all
One summer while the bush-fires roared,
There came a figure, spare and tall,
And tossed a purse upon the board
A well-filled purse. "That help you on;
Mister, you pay back when you can.
You been good friend." And he was gone. . .
Such was the heart of Hakim Khan.
He long since left our forest place,
This hawker with the soft, dark eyes
This simple man of alien race
Who looked on life so simply wise.
Back in his well-loved Kashmir vale,
Where roses grow he ends his span.
And many a bush friend hopes the tale
Of dreams come true for Hakim Khan.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Lonely Night
A lonely night,
just me and fog.
A crushing sound of barking dog.
A gental breeze now get a blame,
the candel cries, she lost the flame.
when the stars come for a treat of light.
some dreams knocked at the door of night,
now i am the king of my land,
a fairy comes and hold my hand.
we get together
and dance tonight
what a feeling!
is it called the love at site?
suddenly someone put break on my dreamy train,
street dogs are bark again.
now i returned in the real world
of a lonely night, fog and
some barking dog.
: -) adil khan
Cocaine
Were walking in the rain
Sniffing some cocaine
Hoodies over our faces
Trying to solve other druggies cases
With the cocaine we make ourselves scum rich
And murder people who then be found in a ditch
As we drank down the champane
We met little wayne
He said he was insane
It started to rain
A crazy copper came
Took the cocaine
Hizar and MC Zain went down Barden Lane
Spinning their silver chains
doing what we wanna do
no one telling us what to do
Thats who we are
Accept it
Embrace it
Leave it alone
For this we are proud to be known
Written by Hizar Khan 10 years old
poem by Sumiya Khan
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In A Moment In Time
OH MY CHILD WHAT HAPEND TO YOU
YOU SEEMED TO GROW
SO STRONG MY CHILD
THEN SHAYTAN HE CAME TO YOU
OH MY Child WHAT WENT WRONG
I hope it’s temporarily
Oh please come back to Allah
Oh my child what went wrong
All the good I taught you
Now look at you
Doing as you do
Knowing it’s wrong
Denying your multi-cultural family
Claming to be 100% British
No longer looking after the planet
You talk of war for a better life
How can this be
Oh child of mine
What went wrong
As you talk of helping others
The people you want to work for are killing my family
Oh how can this be oh child of mine
Come back to Allah
Come back to me
I miss you so
Love always
Mom
poem by mariam khan Farah Abdulahi
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Ode to a Cuppa Coffee
The stir is the circle of fate
Chewed to remain forever awake
Meditation in mocha before its discovery
From soils in Africa the bean in Arabica
Purity of the romance in walls adored
Mud and water and beans in jute
Down the fingers for the texture
On the nose with eyes closed
Perception of divine yet the beauty
With both hands for the eyes see
Fumes like the hairs of love
Like dusk after the sunset
Eyes twilight
First sip in creamy froth not unlike
In slow heat brewing the cup
Hence from where it is said life began
To the other sip goes the consciousness
Unreason still in unself now
Unfold the variousness in cup small
What mystery when dark of the chocolate
With Havana leaf and glass of smoke
After the wine in third course
It kills with donuts from the hands
Old lady had been for long preserving
Bavarian apple with lemon for buds
Ode to wine and ode to olive
Ode to coffee in ware molded
Made from earth of the Persian soil
Perfected is it in Italia or Gaul
With wine dampened cooked in holy fire
Who the prophets with angles now
The mystic declares his own rules
My love the many names and flavors
Still brown beans are the hazel of your eyes
This ode I write to the taste of blood
Dried though on luscious lips
From my heart the words I spell
By the last sip of the cup in hand
I have loved you from ages
Like my drunken eyes today
They asked me what tavern last night
What cup in whose hand and who was the love
1/10/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Elixir of Profit and Life
Water is life, Water is food, water is medicine.
water its blessing and elixir of life.
Water is the existence.
Its also profit when it is bottled!
poem by Ajmal Khan
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O Valentine
O valentine for thine time
The year turned so quick a clime
Red glows warm in lover’s nests
Sweet art thine love harvests
Mine are many in thy blessing
All that’s there are so pleasing
None other than is my valentine
Who to my lips bringeth this wine
Islamabad
13/2/2010
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Outsong in the Jungle
Baloo
For the sake of him who showed
One wise Frog the Jungle-Road,
Keep the Law the Man-Pack make
For thy blind old Baloo's sake!
Clean or tainted, hot or stale,
Hold it as it were the Trail,
Through the day and through the night,
Questing neither left nor right.
For the sake of him who loves
Thee beyond all else that moves,
When thy Pack would make thee pain,
Say: " Tabaqui sings again."
When thy Pack would work thee ill,
Say: "Shere Khan is yet to kill."
When the knife is drawn to slay,
Keep the Law and go thy way.
(Root and honey, palm and spathe,
Guard a cub from harm and scathe!)
Wood and Water, Wind and Tree,
Jungle-Favour go with thee!
Kaa
Anger is the egg of Fear--
Only lidless eyes see clear.
Cobra-poison none may leech--
Even so with Cobra-speech.
Open talk shall call to thee
Strength, whose mate is Courtesy.
Send no lunge beyond thy length.
Lend no rotten bough thy strength.
Gauge thy gape with buck or goat,
Lest thine eye should choke thy throat.
After gorging, wouldst thou sleep ?
Look thy den be hid and deep,
Lest a wrong, by thee forgot,
Draw thy killer to the spot.
East and West and North and South,
Wash thy hide and close thy mouth.
(Pit and rift and blue pool-brim,
Middle-Jungle follow him!)
Wood and Water, Wind and Tree,
Jungle-Favour go with thee!
Bagheera
In the cage my life began;
Well I know the worth of Man.
By the Broken Lock that freed--
Man-cub, ware the Man-cub's breed!
Scenting-dew or starlight pale,
Choose no tangled tree-cat trail.
Pack or council, hunt or den,
Cry no truce with Jackal-Men.
Feed them silence when they say:
"Come with us an easy way."
Feed them silence when they seek
Help of thine to hurt the weak.
Make no bandar's boast of skill;
Hold thy peace above the kill.
Let nor call nor song nor sign
Turn thee from thy hunting-line.
(Morning mist or twilight clear,
Serve him, Wardens of the Deer!)
Wood and Water, Wind and Tree,
Jungle-Favour go with thee!
The Three
On the trail that thou must tread
To the threshold of our dread,
Where the Flower blossoms red;
Through the nights when thou shalt lie
Prisoned from our Mother-sky,
Hearing us, thy loves, go by;
In the dawns when thou. shalt wake
To the toil thou canst not break,
Heartsick for the Jungle's sake;
Wood and Water, Wind air Tree,
Wisdom, Strength, and Courtesy,
Jungle-Favour go with thee!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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I did not lose this election, or had a bad result compared with what we might have got because of Islam.
quote by Imran Khan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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“The Sea Had Shown Me Mercy”
“The sea had shown me mercy”-
I confessed to the prosy desert island beach.
Beneath my proud feet a sea star felt like a leech
My pyretic body and tanned skin felt more marooned!
And my pushy prosaic imagination had been swooned.
“The sea had shown me mercy”-
to the provocative palm trees I repeatedly said.
My prurient love fancied my lover with a mermaid.
The sea had shown me mercy.
My fake puritanical heart hid into the puny sand dune caves.
My putrid mind hated the laughing children of the waves.
The sea had shown me mercy.
The sea had shown me mercy
before the sun burnt my fatal desire to feel
that the precious glimmering ocean waters were real.
Written on the 13th August,2011
©Munia Khan 2011
poem by Munia Khan
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In The Beloved's Street
In the beloveds street I lost my heart
Lost from my home and into the street
The mad man of the town
The laughter of the people
My form is lost
My address is gone
My memories are faded
I was once
A man of form
My home elegant
And now
Children stone at me
My garment torn
In selfless agony
Away from the confines of time and space
In ultimate union
Of the beloveds imagination
In the confines of those serpentine curves
Under the shadows of those dark hairs
The wine, heavenly wine
Pouring from the unending beauty
Lost in that mystery
The joyful existence
O love
What hath thou cast on me
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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