My Personal Quotes I

1. Take a walk that is zeal, speak a talk that is real, touch all hearts and start to feel.

2. Your love might may give you his/her heart; Your family would for sure welcome you with their open arms; but true friends will share with you their two shoulders: One for you to cry on when you're down, and another to lift you up celebrating your successes.

B.U.N.T.U.

B.U.N.T.U.

Sajak nukilan Azuan Ahmad

Fikrah manusia itu berfikir

Inginkan akal namun tak hadir

Kerna hembusan kealpaan datang menyapa

Ilham walaupun sedetik tak kunjung tiba

Raut durja mula berkerut

Anak mata liar dilontar ke langit ilmu lalu hanyut

Natijahnya, tanda tanya menjadi penyudah sebut

Buntu itu bererti:

Umpama langkah diorak ke jalan mati

Nescaya ia akan terhenti

Teraba-raba dalam dzulmat sesudah senja

Untuk mendapatkan hidayat yang diberi kepada yang terpilih sahaja

Tika buntu ditebas, dicantas, ditawan

Itulah masanya kembara menjelajah rimba pengetahuan

Apa yang sempat, pasti direntapi

Diolah, diulit, disemai, ditampi

Agar nukilan minda menjadi seni yang rapi

Ilham itu harganya tinggi

Laksana emas, bahkan lebih lagi

Habis susutnya, tanpa segan dan kesal, ia pasti pergi

Apa yang asalnya lahir dari yang sejenak, hari ini dirai sehayat

Maka, doalah supaya tak kembali buntu dan sesat.

(Footnote: This is actually an acrostic poem, if you haven't noticed)

Dari Kaca Mata Si Kecil

Dari Kaca Mata Si Kecil

Sajak nukilan Azuan Ahmad

Jernih anak mata ini

Bak tercemar dek tingkah

     Yang kemutkan takhta tak bernilai itu

     Terdetik benci di kalbu

Suci hati halus ini

Bak ternoda dek laku

     Yang tiada simpati, apatah lagi empati

     Paparan nafsu nafsi

Mampir si buta, meraba dengan tongkat,

dibiarnya berdiri;

Mampir si bunting, mendukung warisan esok,

enam purnama sudah;

Mampir si tua, melangkah longlai kerna

kudrat diratah usia;

Mampir si tempang, mengheret kaki kayu,

menahan perit

Naïf insan kerdil ini,

Rasa melankoli menyaluti kalbu

Rasa kasihan tampak di durja

Walau hanya satu ruang kecil sahaja yang

mampu ditawarkan

Bangku yang bukan miliknya,

     Bukan milik siapa-siapa,

Dilepaskan jua untuk yang memerlukannya

Gerabak ini menjadi saksi

Betapa budi, lahir dari anak ini

Mampu mendetikkan hati-hati yang kononnya

lebih dewasa

Yang tadi hanya diam

Bak tunggul, berakal sugul

Lihatlah wahai nusa

Betapa bangsa harus prihatin

Menyemai budi bahasa

Betapa perlu kita melihat dunia

Dari kacamata si kecil

The Aftermath

The Aftermath

A poem by Azuan Ahmad

Smoke of burnt ashes filled the stenched air,

Of cadavers poisonous fume here and there.

A banshee spread her wings on the blast,

And breathed in those faces as she passed.

The earth was covered with a carpet of bodies,

And plundered lands and razed homes and torched granaries.

Casualties of fighters and their steeds,

All were dead, and no more blood to bleed.

The sky was cruel, as cold as bone.

The banners unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

Only one stood, 

The sole hero of the Brotherhood.

A saddened rider distorted and pale,

With a shield in one hand, another a flail.

Through his armour could be seen his pride,

But now melancholy had replaced his might.

What victor should he celebrate,

When his brothers are now all dead?

Ahad!

Ahad!

Rewritten by Azuan Ahmad

Why shed these tears of sorrow?

Why waste this weep of grief?

Ya akhi how soon you forget,

After trials come sweet relief.

Why turn you from Ar-Rahman? 

Why yearn for a listening friend?

Ya akhi, do you not remember,

On ALLAH, you must depend?

Read you not those stories,

of the trials in days gone by,

Of the Sahabah beloved by Nabi,

Who for Allah’s cause did strive?

Why loosen your hold upon Him? 

Why fling away, His outstretched Hand?

Ya akhi, do you not remember,

Bilal’s patience on the blazing sand?

"Ahad! Ahad!" He cried,

While his flesh dripped and burned..

"Ahad! Ahad!" He cried,

To Allah alone he turned.

Forget you the firmness of Hamza,

As the gleaming swords did fall?

With patience he turned to Allah,

as the Quraish did slice and maul.

Why drown in salty teardrops?

How can you dare compare your pain?

To that of Yasir and Summayah,

As the lay tortured on the scorching plane?

Forget you the charring of Khabbab, 

As on burning coals he lay?

Ya akhi how meager your suffering,

Wherefore do you lose your way?

Why continue to mumble and grumble,

As if your life is at stake?

Like what happened to Mashitah

Had to defend her faith for sake.

Forget you the dreadful people of Yathrib?

Rained Muhammad with sticks and stones,

Yet, His unloosing spirit endured,

Still them he did forgive and condone.

Why befriend you not Al-Wali? 

Why not in Salat to Him complain?

Like Ayub who only to Allah,

Turned in all his grief and pain?

Forget you those trials in this life,

Cleanse your heart and make it clean?

Ya akhi, why all this sadness?

Do you not wish your heart to gleam?

Be patient in all your hardships,

Allah hears your cries of woe.

So trust Him and in His hikma,

For He knows best that you not do.

So tighten your hold upon Him,

Lest He withdraw His outstretched Hand!

And remember the example of Bilal,

As he lay anchored on the blazing sand.

"Ahad! Ahad!" he cried,

While his flesh dripped and burned.

"Ahad! Ahad!" he cried,

To Allah alone he turned.

The excusable Salats

The excusable Salats

A poem by Azuan Ahmad

The sleepy Fajar,

When the quilt is heavy and the eyes ajar;

The sleeper continues to turn and yawn,

In the end, Fajar is just another dawn.

The buzy Dzuhur,

When there isn't even time for lunch for sure;

The procrastinator leaves it on a delay,

In the end, Dzuhur is just another midday.

The tired Asar,

When heading home only to be stuck in the car;

The loafer favours this time as opportune, 

In the end, Asar is just another afternoon.

The lazy Maghrib,

When it is time to lounge in one's crib;

The socialite is with friends or with a date dining,

In the end, Maghrib is just another evening.

The forgotten Ishaa,

When it is cozier to sip a cup of cha;

The fan watches a TV football highlight,

In the end, Ishaa is just another night.

The Crush

The Crush

A poem by Azuan Ahmad

That crush

It came in a rush,

Your lips remain hush

Your cheeks start to blush.

As if your heart impaled by a lance,

As if your emotion begins to dance,

So, you pray for a glance

Or at least a conversational chance.

"Should I text, should I call?

Should I reveal my name and all?

Should I just peep between the wall?"

You question yourself as you start to fall.

You yearn, you adore,

And imagine your very own love's lore,

Is that the person you are meant for?

Or just a crush, and nothing more.