بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

This poem doesn’t actually have a name. This was/is my first attempt at writing an Arabic poem, it was also the first time I had performed one of my poems to an audience. For those of you who cannot read Arabic, I can transliterate it if requested. It’s about matrimony and how it is akin to worship.  I tried to make it all rhyme and synchronise grammatically though there is one word which I think may not be altogether correct but I overlooked that: I think and hope it works. I’m sure someone will tell me if it doesn’t.

As a light-hearted side note, I looked to attach a picture here. They were all so corny that i decided against it!

There is also a translation (into English) that follows, it’s also a poem.

For context: A young beautiful lady and her dashing husband got married in California. The bride was/is my wife’s first cousin. This was one of two poems that I performed.

The portion of the poem in green is a verse of the Quran (Surah Ar-Rahman -The Beneficent ie.God)

قال الله في كتابه

إنّ الزواج من آياته

فَبِأَىِّ ءَالَآءِ رَبِّكُمَا تُكَذِّبَان

و هذه العبادة تملحنا بالسعادة

ثمّ نبلّغ الهناء

                 بالكلمات الكريمة

فأذكروا الله بأسماءه

و سبّحوا بحمده

ثمّ ندعو لهما

              يا الوهاب

في هذه أيام العياد

نسألك أن توفقهما في الزواج

Allah says in the Quran,

From His signs are the endowment of woman & man,

So which of His signs will you deny?

This worship fills us with contentment,

Which we express in delightful sentiments,

So innumerate Allah’s names,

& Glorify His praise,

Then supplicate for the couple,

O you who provides perpetually,

In these days of festivity,

We ask you to grant them success in matrimony.

Bricking it.

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Samina

So this is from a series of wedding poems I put together. This one was for my  Wife’s cousin in the USA, by this time I had been married 5 years. She’s a HUGE Harry Potter fan 🙂

 

This self-confessed,

Harry Potter obsessed

Young lady,

Was doused and dressed

In Cupid’s incessant

Pursuit of incandescence

Of these two –[break]-

Post-adolescent youth.

 

[break]

 

Now I’m not trying to patronise,

More merely vocalise

My wealth of marital experience

-[break] 5 years, you know!

 

ANYWAY!

These macking talents of:

Navedkhan Javedkhan Pathan

Which is a rhyme on its own

Goaded Hermoine [break] under his spell

Though, it may be the other way as well.

 

Regardless,

He’s now become her ‘jaan’

So they can hang around

And then some…

[Pause]

 

What I mean is pinch his face

And mutually embrace…

Yes..

 

Now this Indian-Pathan

Punjabi-American

Molotov cocktail of traditions

Has produced a couple of

Bollywood proportions

Kudos & Congratulations!

TShaken

So this is from a series of wedding poems I put together. This one was for my Wife’s brother, also in CA, USA.

 

Its that time of year

Wedding season is here!

And Tshaken, not stirred,

Is spreading the word

That all the girls had feared…

The most eligible bachelor

Has found himself a catch this year!

 

The lucky girl? Her name’s Ameera

Here’s your chance to come and meet-her.

 

So Brush down your suits

And bring out those heels

Polish those boots

Valet those wheels!

 

It’s a Spring Shaikh engagement Bash

Though without a-million plates to smash,

A guaranteed extravaganza,

From our favourite gun-toting bhangra dancer!!

 

Yee haa!

 

It’s at Hong Fu Restaurant, Cupertino

Half way down Stevens Creek(o)!

April 24th at eleven thirty

Make sure you’re in there nice n’ early!

RSVP’s by April 10th

But in any case, you’re obliged to attend!

The Party Poem

So this is from a series of wedding poems I put together. Well, this isn’t quite a wedding poem but I’m sure there was a post-wedding celebration of some sort. Anyway, these poems usually involve something in the USA, and my wife and I were going to California to visit family. There were a whole series of things that had happened, some self explanatory, some inside jokes. Ask, and I shall indulge you with the story.

 

Wedding season’s about to kick in,

Waiting on how many weddings it brings,

 

But before you grunt & before you groan,

Hold on a second, we’re throwing our own.

This isn’t Sadiya’s third wedding fete,

Though if she had her way, it’s what she’d get.

 

It does have a thousand other reasons,

Starting with; Rabea’s home for the season!

She’s with a law firm now, REAL big batters,

Names withheld, LEGAL MATTERS.

 

And a new addition from the past few days,

Ibn Ish & Amina, Baby E-bay.

So congratulate them on the newborn son,

He has a feedback score of ninety-one.

 

Yet another addition to the family clan,

Shahid’s become a married man,

Pester yourselves for an introduction

Then watch her dance in the “Shaikh Induction.”

 

(One-step, Two-Step, Bhangra beat,

Lightbulbs whatever! It’ll be a treat.)

 

And Tariq’s quit Cisco, celebration enough,

Then he joined them back, doing different stuff.

No matter, never knew what he did before,

It’s probably the same thing, on a different floor.

 

Mom passed her Series 7 with a ninety-three

Then set up a NICE little earner, spelt N-Y-S-E.

Now she’s conjured up some magic, maybe more than you can stomach,

So loosen your beltloop a notch or two, and throw it down your gullet.

 

Sayyida Musrifa sowfa tarji3 ila bilaadihaa,

Toojad lughat-al-Arabiya katheeratan 3ala lisaanihaa.

(Miss Spendthrift will be returning to her community & country,

The Arabic Language present, upon her tongue aplenty.)

 

I apologise for the longwidedness, I’m the typical bumbling Brit,

And it’s nothing I can help, it is the national characteristic.

(Though I should also add and not in jest,

It’s a skill that Mr Bush enterprises, at its very best!)

 

Sweet as it all can sound, let me tell you all the date,

Surely if we could have, we would have made it a little late.

Alas, I’m sad to say, there is a downer on this upper,

This little bash we’re having, starts at the time you’d have a cuppa’.

 

That’s teatime for you and me,

So anytime from half-past-three!

And we shut up shop at around about ten,

So bring yourselves round anytime before then.

 

And that’s not even the worst of it,

I have to spare you a moment to let it hit,

Take a deep breath while I reveal the news you seek,

You see.. the party we’re having is-in midweek!

 

It’s all the time that we can manage,

So if you don’t come there will be carnage.

Embolden yourself and tell your senior,

And if you can’t do that, then tell the cleaner.

 

Whoever you tell, make sure you’re there,

Or Tariq’ll be round to bend your ear.

For want not to leave you on a sour note,

Here’s a little something to make you dote,

 

If ALL the above is not enough for you..

Well, to top it off, MOGZ is coming toooo!!!

Reminder: The Empress

So this is from a series of wedding poems I put together. I was asked to write a reminder for people that hadn’t RSVP’d already.

If I scream loud enough
you might just realise
December 3rd is coming
so hasten those replies!!

If you overlook the fact
that the bloke is a Bengali,
to prompt you to respond
lets say the guy’s Punjabi!

Svengali?

Born in Mali?

Descendent of Sir Walter Raleigh?!!

Whatever you prefer
I should apologise in advance
but by the 3rd of December
You can; or you Can’t.

I cannot entertain,
those sitting on the fence,
pull yer’ finger out.

Oh forget it. Just tick YES, I’m Comin’!

The Empress of China

So this is from a series of wedding poems I put together. This one was for my own wedding hosted by my Wife’s family in the USA, we had made use of Evite, an electronic invitation tool (It’s cheaper than sending paper invitations!!)

 

A single Bengali,
A Chinese-Punjabi,
Empress of China,
Loads of jalabi,

Daree wala(ish),
Sort-of-hijabi,
Come in Suit, dress
Or ‘pucka’ saree.

Engagement do
For these lucky two,
Be there, be square
And be there by 6.

A quick reply
Would be much-obliged,
You ‘ave til 3rd o’ December
To return to sender.

Perfect ingredients (contradiction?!) for an engagement party, to your very own, Sadiya Shaikh! Bring yourselves, suited- booted, dressed & made up and have a bash, just not at the Bengali.

Ps.
His name is Moyn
But he thinks it lame,
So we call him Mogz
Rather than his name!