(Note: A new chapbook of poems written in Turkey recently, in pocket size format,
during sohbets (talks) given by a saintly teacher, my zone listening to the Turkish
producing these amiable meditations. Calligraphies punctuate the poems, by great
Chinese calligrapher, Haji Noor Deen. Available now from the printer:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/daniel-abdal-hayy-moore/he-comes-running-poems/paperback/product-21486183.html. There’s also a preview on the
printer’s page.)

Three poems:


At the dawn call to prayer from
the nearby lovely spindly-minareted
mosque crossing adhans from other
minarets by loudspeakers all the
dogs near and far begin to yip and
howl and bark in chorus as well

Are they Satan’s dogs howling in
disrespect to keep the believers
away or are they God’s dogs
joyously celebrating the calls
and joining in annunciatory glee

extending the call to the dog
world and any other sleepy
canines within the ears’ both
short and triangular or long and floppy
compass of sound?


There were chickens and geese
and strange pointy goose-tongues as
they hacked their greetings or
admonitions at us through the

Then later sheep and straggly
odorless rose bushes and a
bright orange flower with
sheep in the distance

A bare and barren landscape
with dry grasses rough hedges and
bluish mountains in the distance
that Van Gogh with bamboo pens
and sepia and India ink could
bring to vibrant life with quick
stipple strokes and a thousand
heartfelt dots


While awaiting the king’s arrival
seventy foals were born in
a barn filled with illuminated

Three cities submitted to a very
short tyrant’s army because of
the size of the brass buttons on
their uniforms

Hair and nails got longer and the
seasons changed

Little by little a fair outline of the
king emerged and some said
they saw it between the forest
trees and others that they ate
with it just after dawn

Maybe the king was already
with us all along

About danielabdalhayymoore

Poet, artist, collagist, publisher, hoping to save a little bit of the world through ecstatic utterance... ordered in balanced lines and unpremeditated images...
This entry was posted in ISLAM/SUFISM, Light, Muslim Poetry, POEMS, POETRY, Sufi Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to HE COMES RUNNING

  1. cewiers says:

    Resonant, for me, of Cavafy’s “Waiting for Barbarians.” What if we would meet prayerfully instead of dreadfully authoritatively misdirected barbs? Might arrows fall like flowers again–again and again? Heard. C


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