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.
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
Mars has been enjoying poetry. (I’m quite sorry I gave away some of my Literature textbooks now!) Here’s a poem that I rather like by Rudyard Kipling. (FYI, I’m a bit of an ambivalent admirer of his… his politics was just rubbish, no?)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!
~ Rudyard Kipling