Jestora

ESTD 2022 | muaadspoetry.blog

05/07/2026

Back with the feeling I needed,
Ready to give it like I mean it ✨

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02/07/2026

Written on 3rd of July at 1am 2026. The poem was heavily influenced by the writing style of Keats and the contemplative thoughts of the author Muaad. The poem discusses how similar the summer of 2016 feels to the summer of 2026. How in both summers the author would gaze into the heavens and be carried away with a feeling that his future would be larger than whatever he could plan for and that somewhere, time was already aware of this. That thought was proven right after the decade that followed 2016 proving how the authors thoughts on the uselessness of long term plans carried some truth.

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30/06/2026

New on the blog: Reason Rejoices.

We’ve inherited a strange idea, that to think deeply is to be cold, solitary, and a little unhappy. This piece argues the opposite: that clarity is its own kind of radiance, and that reason, far from being the enemy of joy, may be one of its truest sources.

If you’ve ever quietly chosen happiness over thinking because you believed you couldn’t have both, this is for you. The choice was never real.

Read it at the link. Reason rejoices.

🔗 muaadspoetry.blog
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25/06/2026

There’s a hidden teaching in the Zen tradition: the inner fire isn’t somewhere else. It’s in drawing water, carrying wood. The most ordinary act, done with presence, becomes marvellous.

This is a poem about facing reality. Not escaping it, not performing through it, but meeting it fully and on my own joyful terms. The ignorant will read these lines and see nothing. The wise will understand.

What does facing reality look like for you?

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23/06/2026

Written on the afternoon of the 23rd of June 2026 in Amsterdam, sitting by the water with a friend. The city was loud, the sky was clear, and the humidity was high.

~ Muaad muaadspoetry

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22/06/2026

Written on the morning of the 22nd of June 2026 in Tilburg, where the sun was warm and the air sat at 27 degrees. The time was 12:58 pm.

~ Muaad muaadspoetry

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16/06/2026

Deeply grateful to have received this beautiful feather pen from close friends and fellow members of the BUAS Poetry Club. A gift that truly reflects the spirit of this group.

It has been an honour to serve as President of the BUAS Poetry Club this year. The memories, the conversations, the creative growth we experienced together are ones I will carry with me long after these student years. I am deeply grateful to every member for the dedication, the support, and the remarkable artistic work you brought to this community.

I will treasure this gift as a reminder of what we built together. Looking ahead, I am committed to ensuring a smooth and thoughtful succession so that this community continues to thrive. This is not a goodbye. It is the beginning of a longer connection with a wonderful group of souls.

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16/06/2026

The universe is a vast book. Most of us only read a few pages.

But every so often a person enters your life like an unexpected chapter, and what they illuminate about you, about love, about our shared humanity, changes the way you read everything that comes after.

This poem is about one of those people. About love that crosses every border. About how being truly seen by someone strips away everything that isn’t real, and leaves you with something quieter, purer, and more honestly human.

Some chapters find you. This one found me.

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13/06/2026

A regular Thursday in Amsterdam changed something in me.

A walk along the river. A conversation with a close friend about who we will love and whether we will be enough. A wheat flower that stopped me in my tracks.

And the quiet realisation that the most beautiful thing I could do is simply be myself. The way flowers are.

I wrote about it. The full blog post is on the website. Link in bio.

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12/06/2026

There is a particular kind of happiness that arrives unannounced, in the middle of an ordinary Thursday, on a walk you have taken many times before.

It doesn’t announce itself. It just settles quietly into the conversation, into the laughter, into the tired legs and the endless stairs and the view at the top.

And then you realise, standing there looking out at the water, that this is it. That this is the thing you will miss. Not the city itself, but what the city made possible. The friendships. The conversations. The questions you were brave enough to ask each other.

Next year he will be in another country. We will no longer be students. Amsterdam will go on without us.

I wrote this poem to hold onto the afternoon before it became a memory.

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Adres

Tilburg

Website

http://instagram.com/muaadspoetry, https://muaadspoetry.blog/

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