After life comes death - Dada Masiti

After life comes death
When the Shaikh dies, no one should weep
Write “in the name of God,”
For everything begins that way

Come to me softly - Xasan Ganey

Her:
You, the bloomed Qaydar tree,
drenched by a rain,
leaves a fragrant wind which shakes,
You, my qudhac flowers

Lament for a dead lover - Sraad Haad

You were the fence standing between our land and the descendants of ‘Ali,
(Now in your departure) you are the sky which gives no rain while mist shrouds the world,

A horse beyond compare - Raage Ugaas

A spear that chops limbs,
half-blackened from its formidable iron shaft,
that, when it is shot at you, flails frightfully through the air –

Has love been blood-written - Hadraawi

Has love been blood-written
has marrow yet
been poured for it
a person peeled
the skin from their back or ribs

Sisters, you sold your jewellery - Hawa Jibril

Sisters, you sold your jewellery
 

Depriving yourselves,
Enriching the struggle.

A to Z - Gaarriye

Caalin, listen, I'm going to travel

From A to Z carried by language -

The alphabet, alive on the page.

 

Expression no. 8 - Hakim H. Kassim

slightly expectant–

loosely hopeful,

investing in process.

slow.

The evils of the Balwo - Sayyid Muhammad 'Abdille Hassan

Oh my God, my God, have mercy 

on us and save us from the balwo.

The monarchs of old reigned and built their palaces,

But they fell short of achievement; 

they did not sojourn long in them 

and their desires were not fulfilled.

Bitter and Sweet - Qaasim

Consider the aloe – how bitter is its taste!

Yet sometimes there wells up a sap so sweet

That it seems like honey in your mouth.

I am Somali - Yamyam

In these relentless days,

if you have been truly alive,

reflect on past times,

trace back the lines,

ask yourself:

Who is Somali?

Long life with peace - Xasan Sheekh Muumin

Long life with peace, long life with peace

Long life with peace, long life with peace

Good Sense - Xasan Sheekh Muumin

The ostrich places

Her young in the open

Where the hawk kills

But the small bird marries

And beds her young

In a nest that's safe

Kudu - Gaarriye

My father told me this story
when I was a child. We sat
in the shade of a tree and he began:

Mother - Hadraawi

The world certainly
Would never have left night
Light not been found

The Sea-Migrations - Caasha Lul Mohamud Yusuf

Declaiming this poem, a gabay¹, I alliterate in D to start debate,
to disseminate, to disclose to you: the public.
Hey, you - be diligent! I'm trying though it's difficult
to destroy the injustice, demolish the status quo.
Sea-migration disables my people, I want to drive it back.

Evening Cloud - Gaarriye

Setting sun you're slipping
From the fading day
Heading for your hole
Hey! Are you a coward?

Night Has Fallen - Raage Ugaas

Night had fallen and behind closed doors everyone was sleeping
Thunder called out with a clamour of rain like shots from a thousand rifles

Taste - Caasha Lul Mohamud Yusuf

If this poem isn't free of flaws or clunkiness,
if it contains disharmony or defects,
if it doesn't illuminate what's hidden
and isn't used to staunch old injuries,
its verses won't nourish, are a withered breast.
Let me recite this with spirit. It's night; it's time.