Slave of Allah سُبْحَانَهُ وَتَعَالَى‎

https://www.wattpad.com/story/402609198?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=gamil123u

Assalamu alaikum, sorry for dropping the invitation. If you don't mind, I'd love for you to read my book and share your thoughts. Thank you.
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/396153639?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=library&wp_uname=Baraatu_Musa

a token of kindness [ 24th august, 2025 — sunday ] 
          
          where comes the chaos? soar and sin, the culprit,
          from the lodging inns. surrendered and sought,
          beavering, bold— a little of the timid, a lot of the known. 
          
          swinging with pride, doors left unknocked,
          a guest invited under intoxication’s hold.
          forging, jeopardising, guided by homely apple-pie servings; bruised words swept beneath the rug of humility. 
          
          barks and bellows, odours, open wounds,
          entangled chairs and a single creaking move.
          whisper, then wait, tremors that carry
          a mouth of screams— beginning and dying
          in a parched throat. 
          
          kalopsia and kites— a guest like ropeburn,
          pricking like wine. mindful maps, mindless routes,
          sanctuaries like lies that bury the truth.
          shadows stumble, shoes fade—
          a blessing strikes a menace, transforming a paper cut into a prayer. 
           #adropofhumanity 

A Sincere Advice for Us Muslim Authors: I pray to Allah for this advice to be beneficial for everyone. 
          
          Shahawaat (Desires) - usually a person knows what they are doing is wrong, whether it's in Haram relationship, Haram food or whether it's looking at something Haram. They know what they are doing is wrong but their heart is attached to it.
          
          Is this not the case with us authors? Subhan Allah. 
          
          We know free mixing is Haram yet we write it. We know any relationship between male and female is prohibited before marriage yet we write it. We know we should observe Hijab and all it's conditions yet we go against it. 
          
          My dear Muslim authors please pay heed, titling a story as 'Islamic Story' or 'Muslim Story' or adding tags such as 'Islamic' does not make that book a Muslim or an Islamic book. The content within it makes it. 
          
          We give our book a Muslim name or description yet our cover shows an image of naked woman from behind. Is this Muslim at all? Is this not disrespect of Islam? May Allah forgive us. 
          
          My dear Muslim authors, remember the Speech of your Lord: "He [i.e., man] utters no word except that with him is an observer prepared [to record]." (50:18).
          
          Everything we say, write, do and convey is being recorded. The two scribers leave nothing except they write every single thing. 
          
          Writing a book by staying within the boundaries of Islam will only benefit you as well as your readers, however, writing a book without being concerned with Islamic rulings or commands of Allah will benefit no one. It may benefit us in this world but what about our Hereafter? Are we really going to trade our Hereafter for this temporary world? 
          
          Last but not least, writing 'it's a fiction just go with it' or 'it's just a fiction' does not give us a green flag to write whatever we want. How can we neglect our role as a Muslim for mere romance novels? May Allah guide us to that which is right. 
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
          

Please check out my book:
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/349605751-best-muslim-books

Hi sorry for posting without permission but plz I have something to share.
          
          So finally i have decided to write a story.  This story is about Mafia. And also love at first sight. 
          If you love reading so plz give my story a chance I want disappoint you. Plz do chack this link to read my story Angle's devil
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/337697703-angle%27s-devil
          
          If you like plz share with your friends  and plz vote
          Plz give it a try it won't disappoint you 
          
          I will wait for your response.

a small token of kindness (05th january 2023) 
          
          rain of refinement, earth of bloodshed; tropospheric rocks and primitive nightshade.  a seizure of clairvoyance, a mask of a stone; a memory loosened, a breath of disease. harm catapulted, catastrophic love; a wound transparent, blood a pinch of sea salt. 
          
          a pomegranate churlish, a caterpillar soft and green; firelight shells,  evening that murmurs fantasies. mourn the bell, the bell of heroism; creative feathers, heart of fresh fabric. tales of clouds, tales of uterus; a fallible dare, a poetic sickness. 
          
          sun sealed moon, wrapped, unwrapped; slip like a streamlet of smoke, a sharpness that floats. pulse that radiates, sleet that breathes; wings of bones, emotions an augury. autumn of balance, florid tinders; quietus fingertips, life an organ buzzing. 
          
          warped pollen, petals a haze; clouded blooms and lips of scents. ballrooms of solitude, chandeliers of pianos; what a song like that of feet tapping against measured slivers. what is fire hurts not itself but others, as the sun that burns its earth, as the moon tender upon eyes but hurts its heart the most. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (28th december 2022) 
          
          hidden parks and streams like earthquakes; what has fallen, what has suffocated lustrous. burning flocks of yarned succors, thousand cuts on a black december. with darkness there is no sight, no diversity, no light; what is underneath, how much pain unseen. 
          
          spruced thunder and rain that shivers; bones of roses, salt that slivers. rainbow that crinkles and wrinkles evanescent; equinoxes that confess, odes that raucously bleed. naive dew with dragonflies of sunsets, knots consumed, blush of ashes frozen. 
          
          vivid breaths, dawn that palpitates; speckled red that glows, ocean water thickens with native noor.  a fortresses of mares and massacres; persimmons and rose quenched murderers. waist caressed with waterfalls, stories of prison; what if simple steps should be celebrated? 
          
          scarce metaphors, ignited honour; orange burns, peripheral endurance like november's. chestnut crowns, mysterious surrenders; wandering spines and vivacious respect. allow the storm to scream, to be verocious; you must remain silent, you must have it betrayed. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (07th november 2022) 
          
          patterns on palms and paws, warriors of lost tears; smears and sunlight immersed in veins; water and wax, both who prick sins. mind the bashful door, the silhouettes of skins unfurnished; freedom is only if the streets are not crowded with regret. 
          
          ports of integrity and boats of grace; rain a moon that reverberates, a storm and wings with their own mind. condemn the sky and its fingers of silver syllables; what cannot hold blood can only ever be vacant. 
          
          secure the horizon, wash the world with ancient rhymes; hang the throat by its heart. song of canaries, struggling cabarets; they say nature is weak where footprints are dense. here is the hand, the hand of reckoning; sometimes stalwart beneath abyss. 
          
          tides crash into limbs, limbs of salt and tsunamis; hope dragged in a slipstream, gratitude weather worn, vehement. find me in seas and mysteries; lock your eyes with the breathless cerulean. be it silly or be it the law; do not water a thorn hoping it will grow as a rose. 
           #adropofhumanity