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Young Muslim Rhymes

Young Muslim Rhymes

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My young friends, Haadiyah and Aymum Sajid, are two creative homeschoolers who are just brimming with ideas. They are always working on one creative project or another, ma shaa Allah.

Haadiyah is 10 and Aymun is 8 and, together, they have produced a lovely book of poetry for the young ones. Young Muslim Rhymes teaches Islamic concepts like the importance of Niyyah, love for our Prophet sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam, the Hereafter and the need for a united Ummah. Each poem calls for action by linking its message to real life.

Haadiyah and Aymun lovingly laboured over many aspects of the book — there are vibrant illustrations and best of all, their engaging recitation on the audio CD. They’ve had some wonderful support from friends who helped them with the recording and layout and now, I hope that you too can show them some love.

To learn more about this book, please visit the YMR page at HomeWorks.

I’m giving away 5 copies of this book in shaa Allah. Please leave a comment with your email — it won’t be published — and in shaa Allah, I’ll get in touch with you.

The Reading Mother

The Reading Mother

I hope this is what my children will remember of me and their homeschool days …

The Reading Mother

I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea,
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,
“Blackbirds” stowed in the hold beneath

I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.

I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Celert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness blent with his final breath.

I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings –
Stories that stir with an upward touch,
Oh, that each mother of boys were such.

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be –
I had a Mother who read to me.

~ Strickland Gillilan

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

~ Robert Frost

O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! My Captain!

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths–for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

~ Walt Whitman

Smart :P

Smart :P

Smart

My dad gave me one dollar bill
‘Cause I’m his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
‘Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three times – I guess he don’t know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just ’cause he can’t see
He gave me four nickles for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head–
Too proud of me to speak!

~ Shel Silverstein