Age of Jahiliyah

A blog of wide and varied interest, including Islam, Muslims, Poetry, Art and much more.

Archive for the day “February 22, 2011”

Shaykh Hajjaj Hindawi Recites Surah Tahrim and Takathur

Uploaded by hasan150208

Eros Turranos by Edwin Arlington Robinson

She fears him, and will always ask

What fated her to choose him;

She meets in his engaging mask

All reason to refuse him.

But what she meets and what she fears

Are less than are the downward years,

Drawn slowly to the foamless weirs

Of age, were she to lose him.

Between a blurred sagacity

That once had power to sound him,

And Love, that will not let him be

The Judas that she found him,

Her pride assuages her almost

As if it were alone the cost–

He sees that he will not be lost,

And waits, and looks around him.

A sense of ocean and old trees

Envelops and allures him;

Tradition, touching all he sees,

Beguiles and reassures him.

And all her doubts of what he says

Are dimmed by what she knows of days,

Till even Prejudice delays

And fades, and she secures him.

The falling leaf inaugurates

The reign of her confusion;

The pounding wave reverberates

The dirge of her illusion.

And Home, where passion lived and died,

Becomes a place where she can hide,

While all the town and harbor side

Vibrate with her seclusion.

We tell you, tapping on our brows,

The story as it should be,

As if the story of a house

Were told, or ever could be.

We’ll have no kindly veil between

Her visions and those we have seen–

As if we guessed what hers have been,

Or what they are or would be.

Meanwhile we do no harm, for they

That with a god have striven,

Not hearing much of what we say,

Take what the god has given.

Though like waves breaking it may be,

Or like a changed familiar tree,

Or like a stairway to the sea,

Where down the blind are driven.


Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich – yes, richer than a king –
And admirably schooled in every grace;
In fine we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Abdurrahman Sadien Quranic Recitation

Uploaded by Muhammed9791

Sheikh Abdurrahman Sadien Recites Quran Part 1 & 2

Uploaded by xpwincess99x


Uploaded by

Br. Suleyman shares his interesting story of his experience with the Quran. Subscribe to to watch more revert videos like these.

Abdurrahman Sadien Recites Quran 6

Uploaded by Muhammed9791

Abdurrahman Sadien Recites Quran 5

Uploaded by Ciihad21

Abdurrahman Sadien Recites Surahs Duha and Inshirah

Uploaded by xfighter61

Abdurrahman Sadien Recites Quran at Young Age

Miniver Cheever by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of the warrior bold
Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam’s neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.

Mininver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.

Post Navigation