Biography of Isam Hussain
Editor and publisher of the North East Poetry Journal, a quarterly publication promoting poetry in the North East of England.
BSc. in elecrical engineering from University College, Cardiff (1962. Worked in Scotland in Research & Development at Bathgate, West Lothian. Left for the North East in 1972 to set up in business. Retired in 2007.
My interest in poetry came late in life at the age of 64. My first involvement was to compile and edit a book of poems involving poets in my village, Lanchester, and its surrounding districts. In 2002 'Waxing Lyrical' was published and a Poetry Group was formed. I am currently the editor and publisher of 'The North East Poetry Journal', a publication set up to promote poetry in the region and help poets to publish their poems on a regular basis. In addition, I publish anthologies, on a small scale, including my own: 'String of Pearls'. The Journal is posted on the Internet on: www.communigate.co.uk/lanchestercommunitycentre.
My interest in the world of religious ideas, their interaction and evolution through history, has taken me on a spiritual journey beyond the literal meaning of religious texts and into a world free from dogma and rituals. I have published several books on the subject.
Isam Hussain's Works:
Colours of the Truth (ISBN 0 9533658 0 8)
(Mankind's search for self-knowledge in the traditions of Mesopotamia, Egypt, Israel, and India)
Lords of Eternity (ISBN 0 9533658 1 6)
(The divine nature of humanity is sought in the incarnation of the Divine in Krishna and Jesus)
Hurdles in the Way of Christian Unity (0 9533658 2 4)
(The status of the Pope, the meaning of Communion, the status of the Virgin Mary)
String of Pearls (ISBN 978-0-9555153-4-7)
(A collection of my poems)
Taking a Chance on God (ISBN 978-0-9555153-5-4)
(The conscience is the soft still voice of God)
Isam Hussain Poems
The Way Of True Friendship
I used to look askance at him, kept my distance, 'Help of the helpless' they called him, I disagreed. How could he be a source of comfort and solace, when he is never at hand when most needed?
Belief And Unbelief
Sceptics say God is an illusion, a figment of human imagination, a sure sign of self-delusion; they deride the contradiction
The Eyes Of Horus
Once, the eyes of Horus shone with equal brilliance, sun and moon played hide and seek
A haunting sound is heard softly whistling, like a magic flute in the distance playing, luring summer leaves to hum and sway, to don new colours, to dance and to play;
The Boy Who Could'Nt Weep
Silent images flashed on my TV screen: a child in rags, sat on a stone amid smouldering huts, all alone, his bewildered eyes scanned the scene.
There is a bird which warbles late at night, no doubt fooled by the bright streetlight; it thinks it is day when, in fact, it is night, and feels obliged to sing when it aught not.
The Tsunami (Boxing Day 2004, South East...
Gaya stirred, moved beneath the ocean, caused uproar in the realm of Poseidon. Frenzied with rage, frothing at the mouth, his chargers rushed her idyllic shores,
Oil Tells Its Story
I can't boast of my pedigree, Or claim to be of noble birth; But let me tell you my history, How people spotted my worth.
All Will Be Well
All will be well and all manner of things will be well. So pick up the quill, dip it in the inkwell,
Land And Sea
As though by some eternal decree Land and Sea are destined to disagree over where the shoreline should be.
Linda (An Acrostic Poem)
Lady Luck came my way, invited me for a short stay. Not knowing what to do, did not dare to date you.
Linda's 58th Birthday
On such a special day, there’s much I want to say; but words fail to convey feelings locked within,
My First Drink In A Pub (1957)
Still young and green I went to a pub alone in the mill town of Halifax and landed myself in a fix.
In a Jeweller's window is a diamond solitaire bathing in the rays of the spotlight, dazzling my eyes with many colours.
A Painting Of Modern Art
I saw it hanging in the 'Modern Art Section',
intriguing, inviting my close inspection:
Star-like dots occupied the middle,
comet-like tails trailed behind.
It struck me as some kind of a riddle,
a puzzle to solve and to understand.
I remained immersed in deep thought.
Someone asked, 'what do you make of it? ’