A selection of mystical poetry from ‘The Collected Works of Quddus Mohammed’, the delicately illustrated coffee table book he released recently in New York.
Let Us Take a Stroll in the Vibrant Autumn Foliage
O’ serene shadow hiding behind the fragility of life
Let us take a stroll in the vibrant autumn foliage
Through the slumbering majestic ancient tree
And the moss-covered twisted native vines
Golden-yellow leaves cover the pathway
You told me there is a bench in the woods
Let us sit there for a cup of delicious, spiced tea
Smell the scent of the pollen
Listen to the humming of the bees
The sound of falling leaves and fading light
Listen to the hymn of the Angels
Listen to stories of trees that bleed
Stories that filled our distant past
O serene shadow, my companion of solace
Hold my hand as we take a stroll.
I am ME - a poet with a monkey mind
Jumping from one thought to another–
Joys, dreams, desire, and shimmering fame
O’ Poet, make no mistake – with fame comes pride
Pride is wicked that burns and destroys
Embrace with humility graceful words
Words come streaming with waves hour by hour
Hour by hour the wind blows the fiery spirit within
Get drowned in the inner quiet of the heart to listen
To listen to whispers of innate wisdom of life
The wisdom that runs deep through the veins
Yes, it’s me – I am that inner voice
Burn the stubborn ego
O Universal Man! Rise up to love and freedom from ego
A new day awaits on the self-journeying path to happiness
Pure fragrance breathes your tamed new shell
Early we return to beach-birds waiting for grain
Smoke from the wood fire of last night still pouring into the air
Embers dying in the charred wood
Burn the stubborn ego before it burns you
And immerse the ashes in water
O calm sand dunes, turtles come to take refuge and lay eggs
And I to connect with myself, to my spiritual self
Nature’s work of art in red and golden sand-like jewels glow
Gaze the unconscious waves sail away the wounds ashore
Miles of silence, years of solace, and pure Godliness
Vapor the smoky weed of life
Draw life plans on blank paper
I am ME a Life of Opulence
Life of opulence is a never-ending web
Blame not the mirror if the spirit is dusky in dirt
Desire is the worship of the lower soul –
Enslaved, wired, and create foul
Riches veiled will perish before the plum bloom
Greed is the rust that conceals the inner light of Om
Om is not a word, it is shanti of the soul, salaam, Sholom
Shanti is the bride of the soul
And soul is the image of God
I am ME a Life of Opulence
Life of opulence is a never-ending web
Blame not the mirror if the spirit is dusky in dirt
Desire is the worship of the lower soul –
Enslaved, wired, and create foul
Riches veiled will perish before the plum bloom
Greed is the rust that conceals the inner light of Om
Om is not a word, it is shanti of the soul, salaam, Sholom
Shanti is the bride of the soul
And soul is the image of God
I am ME a Paragon of Perfection
O’ Lotus of graceful charm
Breathing in the shadows of the slimy swamp
And journeys life through the murky pond
To spread the fragrant of kastori musk
Morning breeze will bring the bloom
Bloom brighter in the stillness of the full moon
The brightness of the face is purity of faith
The ritual of the flower is to bloom and fade
Finite is the life in this Gulistan
O’ Bloom of gulistan
Manifest His beauty in the self
Beauty is only a shadow without His light
In His light glitters the heart of gold
Like a lamp, illumes the heart and mind
And the best from within you to inspire
Giving and sharing is the virtue of the soul
Beauty is perfect in the image of God
Be Nice to Me
O’ Dear! We have a charming nest and comfortable straw to sleep
And enough grain for winter freeze
Fret not for tomorrow’s rain, snow, or breeze
Like butterflies or bees from flower to flower today we swing
When I know not to swing my zealous wings
Be nice to me
Move the curtain, O’ Dear! Allow more sunlight and breeze
New grass and fast-growing flowers spring up on trees
Bugs, birds, and butterflies are coming to our garden
The songful birds have gathered on the fence for grain
When I walk not the yard to fill the bowl of grain
Be nice to me
The bench under our garden trellis where we sat for evening tea
The spiced scent of the pollen nourished the soul in me
The pathway to our door is now covered with moss and the native vine
Let us go, my Dear, where fresh waves come crashing ashore
When I know not at shore how to love you more
Be nice to me
O’ serene shadow curled upwards in a healing camel shawl
Many voices and stories come to crowded mind
Whispering memories from the smoky hole in the wall
Like a fragile candle, I cry and melt to fall
When the candle curves in a flame of fire to smoke
Be Nice to me
O Heart! Open the Door
I open the dusky inner door to your light
I find You! Standing beyond the seas flying a paper kite
In the heavenly stars that shine over the ocean like diamond dust
In the poems of Khayyam, the heavenly perfume of rose and jasmine’s lust
In the forgotten pages of Persian scholars
Whose bazaars birthed the knowledge of celestial lights
In the water clock at Isfahan witnessing Saturn’s revolution around the Sun
I find Your wisdom in the historical aphorisms of the East
In the flame rising from the belly of the frozen sea that fuels the light
In the fracking of the earth that feeds a wealthy trade to heat
In the fisherman’s catch, and in the terrified hearts of oysters in the shell
Your wisdom in the buds that blossom from frozen land
In the singing of the nightingales “O spring is we greet”
Your wisdom in the farmer’s grain from barren land
In the wrinkles of Bedouin mothers, and the sweet blend of old frozen maple
In the pesky ants that carry a load ten times of their bodies
They are all connected. We are connected
O The Creator, who bestows on all His light divine
I open the dusky inner door of my heart to Your mystical light
God, my friend, companion for truth and guidance
Cup of Chai
O’ wind! When the memories come striding up the stairs
Take me to my portrait of a gilded rim
In the space between lovers’ and friends’ intimate
Holding its breadth by tailor’s pins
Time! I trust not you – you change a thousand times
My friends are true companions for life
Like my shadow never do they leave my side
A passing angel once said – these friends are rare to find
O’ Reflection! We’ve grown old as friends together
Making funny faces in the mirror
I hide my age to flirt with a thousand girls
But I see the wrinkles on my friends with pride
O’ Soul! Wrinkles grow on the shell like an art
Silent tears buried in the poet’s heart
Don’t visit me, my friends, in the insane home
You shall be a pain to young nurses in the senior home
O’ Friends! If ever tomorrow we’re not together
There is something you must always remember
My glory is not in the grandeur or treasure I leave
It is in the virtue of jewels like you
You have helped me move my home
Will thou help move my empty shell
Hold my cup till I reach my tomb
When the light in the lantern is gone
Read an elegy ….
And one last cup of chai
Proceeds from this coffee table book, ‘The Collected Works of Quddus Mohammed’, go to Rotary helping refugees and immigrant families. To order, contact mquddus59@gmail.com. Some of the poems in video format are available at: https://www.youtube.com/@CultureTalkStudio
