HAM's Pen

21/09/2026

They looked at me with a raised brow,
Trying to figure out who I might be,
Perhaps thinking I wasn’t someone low,
They don’t know I am just me.

I’m Habeebatullah Ajiboye M.
“Can I shorten your name?”
It was a question from them,
But I refused without shame.

I was known my wordly world,
Where I craft written pieces from my pen,
That made people remember the Lord,
I was known by the name HAM’s Pen.

They would have asked about my favourite hue,
But from my love for nature,
Anyone could guess it is blue,
Perhaps because of the elegance it helped me nurture.

They asked about my hobby,
Reading, writing and nature photography were what came to my lips,
They had no idea that I’m a single lady with no hubby,
Since I’ll be rooting sincerely for you when you take the leap.

I looked back to yesterday,
And I realised I wasn’t the same,
And I still want to become better than today,
So I can improve the way people call my name.

©✍️Habeebatullah Ajiboye M. — HAM’s Pen.

21/09/2026

I think say love na bliss,
I never know say I fit get bruise,
No be the kind wey pain like wound,
But the kind when you no wan lose a bond.

“Love na bliss,” na so I thought,
But my own love still dey hurt,
I love you but I no wan talk,
Because I no wan make you walk.

You fit kill me if you know say I’ve love you for a while,
Especially when you flash me your bright smile,
My heart fit do somersaults wey never end,
Na when I know say I no wan only be your friend.

E pain me when you smile at that man,
E be like say make I elope with him clan,
Na my side I wan make you dey,
No be beside person wey come for holiday.

I know say love go burst my brain,
But I no know say my heart go pain.

©✍️HAM’s Pen.

21/09/2026

“There is power in numbers,”
my young mind was told,
then I embarked on the journey of unravelling,
thinking figures had magic hidden.

I spent my life thinking,
I’d figure everything out myself,
counting every challenge as mine to solve,
every burden as mine to bear alone,
believing I could overcome
every obstacle that came my way.

But as I grew older,
I learnt that some burdens are too heavy,
for my shoulders to carry,
That some problems are too broad,
for my mind to process,
and that some roads become easier,
when there is someone walking beside you.

Then I finally understood,
That there is power in numbers,
Not the numbers I once imagined,
Not in figures hiding some secret magic,
But in people who come together.

In different minds brainstorming together,
In different hands carrying the weight,
In having someone to guide you,
When you are going astray.

I learnt that asking for help
doesn't make me weak,
That giving room for suggestions,
doesn't mean I'm incapable,
That allowing people to contribute,
doesn't mean I'm not enough.

I realized that some tasks are simply too big,
to be accomplished by one person,
That having someone to work with doesn't make the journey smooth,
But it makes the journey easy.

Sometimes, one person knows the shortcut,
Another person notices the potholes,
Another person carries the map,
And someone else simply keeps everyone moving,
When the journey becomes tiring.

Now, whenever I hear "There's power in numbers,"
I no longer imagine mystery figures with magic,
Instead I think of different people becoming a team,
Different ideas to achieve a goal,
And a situation where nobody carries the weight alone.

©✍️Habeebatullah Ajiboye M. — HAM’s Pen.

17/09/2026

Behind my smile,
Is a heart that has learned to bleed quietly,
that not every battle needs an audience,
That not every pain needs declarations,
That some stories are better left unsaid.

Behind my smile,
Is a girl who bears doubt in her minds,
Who carries unanswered questions in her brain,
Who bears silent disappointment in her heart.

Behind my smile,
Are pieces of me I’m still gathering,
Are versions of me that survive storms without applaud,
Are vulnerable versions of me that are silently hurting.

But also behind my smile,
Is a heart still choosing to love despite being hurt,
A soul trying to become better despite attempts to make it bitter,
A mind choosing gratitude despite struggles.

Behind my smile,
There’s small rebellion of hope against pain,
A quiet belief that difficult season won’t last.

©✍️HAM’s Pen.

09/09/2026

09/09/2026

If my heart could speak,
Then it won’t be in my loud voice,
But instead comes in a hushed poetic tone,
That carries depth only metaphors could explain.

If my heart could speak,
Maybe it will voice out emotions that never left my ribs,
Maybe it will express pains that never show on my face,
Maybe it will reveal fears hidden beneath the confident profile.

Maybe it will speak of the words
I swallowed before they reached my tongue,
Of the tears I taught my eyes to hide,
And the battles I smiled through
As though nothing was ever wrong.

Maybe it will tell you
That confidence does not mean I am fearless,
That silence does not mean I have nothing to say,
And that sometimes,
The loudest person in the room
Is only trying to drown out
The trembling of their own heart.

If my heart could speak,
Perhaps it would not ask to be understood.
Perhaps it would only whisper
the things I have spent years pretending not to feel,
and leave the silence afterward
to explain everything
my voice never could.

©✍️HAM’s Pen

09/09/2026

I believed our love is still forever,
I thought we were always meant to be together,
I believed our love would age,
I never knew it was just a stage.

I always thought our love would be a safe place,
I never knew it would become a memory I want to displace.
My mind still burns and my heart still aches,
Yet my brain holds on to every memory it makes.

I still remember the words we used to say,
The promises that made forever feel only a day.
I held on to every “always” you gave,
Never knowing some promises are made only to fade.

Now I pass through places that still carry your name,
And somehow the silence never feels the same.
I tell myself to forget, to let the memories go,
But the heart remembers things the mind already knows.

Maybe our love was never meant to stay,
Maybe forever was only a word we used along the way.
But if loving you was just a stage I had to go through,
Why does every ending still lead me back to you?

©✍️HAM’s Pen.

22/08/2026

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09/08/2026

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04/08/2026

ABOUT THE BOOK

Until Haram felt like home is more than a fictional piece, it is a story like an advice directed towards Muslim students.

It capture the power of influence and the drift that comes with it.

Inaya was just another Muslim student with a very good Islamic background but on getting the school she couldn’t help but fall into the trap of Haram disguise as da’wah.

Story like this aren’t new, they are what has happened, is happening and will still be happening at various level of educational institutions.

So Until Haram Felt Like Home was written to guide every Muslim student out there.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Habeebatullah Ajiboye M. is a talented young lady with passion for knowledge and self-growth. She is a blue lover who seek peace in nature.

Being a nature lover that she is, she is a a calm observer who notices situations around her.

As a writer, she is deeply passionate about CREFS writing—Creative, Realistic, Entertaining, Fictional, and Spiritual. These five elements shape her storytelling and creative expression, allowing her to write pieces that are engaging, relatable, thought-provoking, and rooted in Islamic values.

She genuinely love creativity and personal development. She enjoy learning, exploring new ideas, asking questions, and encouraging others to grow into the best versions of themselves. She believe growth is a lifelong journey, and every day is another opportunity to become better than we were yesterday.