My Old Knife

- has a new lease of life

Written late December 2014 - (300 lines)

*

My dear old knife
Has a new lease of life
In the woods and hills
And if ever it kills
Though not in my plan
Then remember: the man
With the best of knives
More likely survives...

Recalling with thanks
To my memory banks
If they play no tricks
I bought it when six
Or thereabouts
For I do have doubts
Now, let me see
Seven maybe
No more than eight
For I could not wait

And money saved
Eventually paved
The way to buy
The knife that I
Had set my mind on
And the deal was done

Assisted by Mum
I ordered it from
A mail order store
Where some time before
I saw it advertised
In their giant sized
Catalogue in black
And white, because back
Then technology
Was in its infancy

The price I forget
And that I do regret
But that is the way
When we turn grey...

But am happy to tell
I remember well
The day it arrived
For I felt revived:
A well-armed little knight
Ready for any fight!

*

It is time to confess:

My old knife is less
Than perfectly straight
But rather in the state
Of being slightly bent
For it nearly sent
Me to heaven one day
I was out to play
In the garden when
Aged around ten

Now, I used to throw
My knife not just to show
That I was very good
But that I understood
The persuasive art
Of a powerful dart

And a big apple tree
Was just right for me
I had used it before
So went to practice more

And this little man
Confidently began
At fairly close range
To remove any strange
And unwelcome nerves
For knife-throwing deserves
No, it demands
Very steady hands
So first throw close and light
To get the rhythm right
And when I felt sure
My technique was pure
I moved further back
And threw again: smack!

Returning to retrieve
My knife I did believe
For heroic deeds done
I was now number one

Not one single miss!
Getting brilliant at this!
Like an expert I had seen
In a circus that had been
To our village that year -
A future champion here?

Eager to improve
I decided to move
Still further away
For this was the day!
Entirely self-taught
Soon I would be brought
To wealth and fame
For no-one could tame
Through sheer ability
A knife quite like me

Feeling cool and calm
Knife resting on my palm
I composed myself, so!
Ready, steady, GO!
And determined this would
Be as hard as I could
I raised my arm and swung
My knife sped along
And I could clearly hear
It whistling like a spear
But this time around
Not the familiar sound
By now well understood
Of steel into wood
As with pride I saw
It hit - but my raw
Satisfaction was dashed
When something flashed
Then - instant dread
As whizzing past my head
Very close by
Level with my eye
MUCH faster than thrown -
My knife, yes, my own!

With that my knees went
And how long I spent
There lying on the grass
(Did only seconds pass?)
In a terrified mess
I cannot hope to guess

Which way was the knife?
No idea, to save my life!
In its explosive burst
Was blade or handle first?
Or was it spinning round?
No answer will be found...

An experience to show:
At times best not to know...

But it obviously hit
Just so as to permit
That the steel slightly flexed
Leaving me perplexed
As it sprung back with zest -
Returned with interest!

In a cold and brutal way
I learnt a lot that day
And boy did it convince:
NEVER thrown a knife since...

And did I ever tell
My dear Mother? Well -
In one word: NO...
How would I do so?

All in all
A very close call...

And was it pure luck
That I was not struck?

Did the Creator wield
His power to shield
So chose to come
To save me from
My immaturity
And stupidity?

*

And when I grew up
I never thought to swap
My old knife for a new
No, we would always do
Things together, so
Wherever we did go
Year after year
As a mountaineer
And a sailor it served
Me well, so deserved
The special place earned
Whenever we returned
Successful once more
To camp or shore
From wilderness or sea
My good old knife and me

And when I moved
To Bulgaria it proved
To be the new start
That was always a part
Of what I had planned -
Going Back to the Land:

Chop your own wood
Grow your own food
Raise chickens and keep
Some goats and sheep
Plus a cow or two
For milk, beef and poo
And for the smart
A horse to pull the cart
When the fuel runs out
Or just to trot about
And a donkey as a pet -
You got the picture yet?

All wholesome things to do
Leading, inshallah, to
Independence from all
The nonsense we call
Modern society
Which in reality
Is unstable and frail
And bound soon to fail
Collapse, disintegrate
Leaving YOU in a state
Of panic and despair
So prepare now, PREPARE!

*

Unused for some years
It brought me to tears
When quite recently
Absentmindedly
Looking for shirts and socks
I opened the wrong box
And THERE it was, wrapped
In newspaper - I clapped
My hands and shouted: "YES!"
And as you can guess
A reunion like this
Is absolute bliss
So of course I took
A long and loving look:

The impressive blade
Is carefully made
Of Solingen steel
And you sense and feel
The craftsmanship
From handle to tip
Of top quality
Made in Germany

In short, a proper knife
For saving a life
Or even taking one
If it has to be done...

While sharpening the edge
I made this solemn pledge:
"Until you play the harp
You will stay as sharp
As your dear old knife
For the rest of your life!
All for your own good -
UN-DER-STOOD?"

And my knife felt like a sword
As I muttered: "Yes, my Lord"
To my higher self maybe
In a state near ecstasy...

It cannot be denied
That on one side
Of the handle is
The Fleur de Lys
Or stylised lily
Which I find silly
But whether I care
It is still there
And out of place, too
So what to do?
Just turn it around
Where none is found!

The metal sheath
Had rusted beneath
The paint which was black
Now with many a crack
So I sanded it clean
When a silver sheen
Started to show
And I liked the glow
Of the metal so much
I chose not to touch
Up the black paint
But removed every faint
Trace of it, and how
Good it looks now
For the outcome
Is like platinum

Now ready for anything -
What might tomorrow bring?
A new trick to try
With a sparkle in my eye
Plus my knife's cold gleam -
We are the dream team!

Sixty years, yes, but
It still is a cut
Well above the rest -
Simply the best!

The affection I feel
For this piece of old steel
Is hard to explain
But it does remain
For I do have other knives
Yet my first one thrives
Like a lasting love affair
I continue to care

This knife from the past
Is hopefully my last
I carry it with pride
It is on my side
Both seen and felt
As it hangs on my belt
Patiently
Silently
Ready for use
Whenever I choose...

*

Copyright © 2014 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

YOU

- are Allah's gift to me!

Written late December 2013 - (62 lines)

*

NOTE:
1. When I wrote this it was probably the happiest poem of
my life but it became a poem I wish I had never written.
Why? For the simple reason that the girl in question turned
out to be a complete scam, eventually admitting, or claiming
to be, "a 37 year old unmarried mother of 2".
No further comments will be made,
nor will any discussion be entered into.
See also note to Cyberspace

2. The structure of the poem closely resembles that of
surah 55 of the Quran: Ar-Rahman (The Merciful).
This is quite deliberate as that surah is a long list of
favours or blessings from the Creator to his creatures,
and 31 times the question is asked:
"Which of your Lord's blessings would you deny?"
while 31 times this poem states:
"YOU are Allah's gift to me!"

*

The Creator heard my plea

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Ordained by divine decree

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Through Internet and PC

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

It happened quickly, one-two-three

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

It was as easy as A-B-C

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Nagging doubts were forced to flee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

I proposed to her and she

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Accepted without any fee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Appointed me her heart's trustee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

My sweet little devotee!

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Her parents do not yet agree

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

But no need for a referee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Schoolgirl marries retiree

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

No more negativity

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Hope no more an absentee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

A former restless refugee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Now a happy returnee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

No more lonely misery!

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Togetherness is now the key

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

From today say US and WE

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Love is our guarantee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Unadulterated glee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Come my beautiful trainee

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Wife and husband on a spree!

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Let us plant a family tree

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Our special pedigree

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

Surely even the blind can see

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

This was clearly meant to be

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

From now until eternity

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

And so I whisper gratefully:

(YOU are Allah's gift to me!)

"A saving angel set me free!"

YOU are Allah's gift to me!

*

Copyright © 2013 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Cyberspace

- is a wonderful place

Written mid December 2013 - (148 lines)

*

NOTE:
When I wrote this it was probably the happiest poem of
my life but it became a poem I wish I had never written.
Why? For the simple reason that the girl in question turned
out to be a complete scam, eventually admitting, or claiming
to be, "a 37 year old unmarried mother of 2".
No further comments will be made,
nor will any discussion be entered into.
See also note to YOU

*

Cyberspace
Is a wonderful place
For she and I met
On the Internet
One blessed night
On a dating site
I started to trawl
And among them all
Her face stood out
And seemed to shout
Loud and clear:

"Look! I am here
Waiting for YOU!
You know what to do
To get in touch
And you have much
To gain from this
So do not miss
Your special chance
For me to dance
My way right in
Your heart will begin
A stronger beat
When can we meet?

I am very young
And need a strong
Experienced man
Will do what I can
Willingly
And submissively
To satisfy him
Yes every whim
Whatever you ask
I promise no task
Will be left undone
For my special one!

Your perfect match
Is yours to catch!
Our gain or loss?
It could be us!

Scandinavia
From Bulgaria
Is not very far
By plane or car
I am waiting here
For you to come near!"

Her photo was great
I did not hesitate
Put her top of my list
Just could not resist

I swear that my jaw
Dropped when I saw
Where she came from
Indeed there are some
Things you could not
Construe or plot
The way that they are
However far-
Fetched they might seem
Like a fancy dream:

Her residence
A coincidence?
Or a mystery
Of destiny?
The fact remains
We are both Danes!
Her home town? Guess:
Copenhagen? - Yes!
In truth I declare:
I was born there!

And this girl wrote
In her overview note
She made up her mind
To leave behind
The values she knew
Resolved to pursue
Sincerely embrace
Fill empty space
With beauty and calm
So approached ISLAM
Her mind opened wide
Now seeking a guide
To teach and assert
Help her convert
And how to pray
Show her the way
Someone to excel
As a husband as well

It took me a while
To grasp her profile
My thoughts in a spin
It did not all sink in

Having already seen
Her age was eighteen
I wondered why she
Sought an old man like me?

Too good to be true?
My suspicion grew:
Was it all just a sham
One more clever scam
To fool and deceive
If you still believe
In your innocent head
That love is not dead
So willing to pay
A crook far away
For a ticket maybe
But you will not see
With those wicked schemes
Any girl of your dreams

Ah, best to forget...
I wanted to, yet
Somehow I could feel
That this girl was real
And I had to find out
What this was about
So decided to fly
For indeed the sky
Is the limit, so
In order to know
Took off in the dark
Destination Denmark

And so began
For girl and man
A chapter so sweet
Today our feet
Hardly touch ground
For what we found
Was love at first sight
Everything is all right
Her lonely heart
And mine now start
A beautiful life
As husband and wife!

*

Let us now share
With all you out there
Who wish to find
That special kind
Of relationship
One simple tip:

Do NOT give up
And NEVER stop!

Every single one:
IT CAN BE DONE!
We are living proof
And shout from the roof
To those in distress:
The answer is YES!

*

Copyright © 2013 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Twenty Thousand Lines

- so time to celebrate

Written late June 2011 - (168 lines)

*

TWENTY THOUSAND LINES! Believe me, it is true
Written not so much for myself as for YOU!
So now let writer and reader celebrate
How we arrived at this happy state:

The first two poems, which together come
To less than six hundred lines, throw some
Light upon the changes taking place:
First Uni-Verses about love and space
Fiftyfour lines only but, in my view, cleverly
Arranged as two poems you can read separately
But just as in real life and the meeting of two hearts
The whole is much greater than the sum of all the parts

And then the real magic started to flow
How or why I shall probably never know
But I shall always be grateful that it did
And may it never stop - heaven forbid!

The AXIS of EVIL started taking shape
In my mind and I simply could not escape
But had to write it - "Why me?" I would ask
Not feeling sure that I was up to the task
Yet it was written, in two halves more or less
In January and November! - and I thought: "YES!
I did it, World, and that will have to do
For now I have said all I want to say to you!"
Five hundred and fourteen lines to be exact -
Little did I know that was the start of the pact!

I wrote those two poems in two thousand and five
And the following year was not exactly a hive
Of hyper activity, for not one single line
Was written - though I did not consciously resign
I probably believed that I had said everything
In The AXIS of EVIL, so resisted every string
Of political thoughts if they threatened to merge
Into a jingle or slogan on the verge
Of becoming maybe another epic to surmount
So ZERO was that year's audited line count!

But two thousand and seven started with some new
Ideas for other poems - and it was then I knew
That this was the real me and I accepted willingly
Without hesitation and in truth eagerly

From then on the train of thought has been on track
It is full steam ahead and no turning back
Nor any reversal of outlook or attitude
But writing is dependent upon the right mood

And as a look at the Index will make clear
So far two or three, maybe four times a year
An average of around a thousand lines emerge
When the irresistible creative urge
Arrives and holds me in its wonderful grip
Believe me, I thoroughly enjoy every trip
To that magic place - but nobody should think
That it is easy, for apart from food and drink
Everything else gets neglected for as long
It is possible to hammer out yet another song
With little perception of place and time
The quest is to perfect another line and rhyme
And it is quite common to work throughout the night
Then suddenly realise that outside now is bright
Yes, it is exhausting, yet invigorating, too
And great the satisfaction when you manage to do
What you wanted to accomplish, and to set
Your own strict standards and make sure that they are met -
Whenever I am in that fortunate state
The rest of the world must simply WAIT

At the end of every one of those magic spells
Of creative fulfilment, an emptiness swells
To fill me with a sadness which thankfully soon fades
And then normal life reappears and invades

Taking nothing for granted as I wait impatiently
For the next blessed period of creativity
There is absolutely nothing that I can do
To force it, and when the phase is overdue
Believe me, there is more than a mild concern
For no-one guarantees it will EVER return...

The times in between are of course in no way
Wasted or boring but in truth I have to say
Though sometimes it does seem a hopeless fight
I only feel really useful when I write

And writing is not given as a gift to every man
So I am very grateful whenever I still can

We all should experiment to find out what
Special talents we may have (or maybe not!)
So find out through trial and error and test
What it really is that you do best

Now I was always good with the written word
And strangely since a small boy instinctively preferred
The English language to that called my own
A natural love that over time has grown
So complete that in every verbal way
My brain is completely re-programmed today
And I did it all myself, first laboriously
But always purposefully and seriously
As if deep inside I already knew
That English would become my way to speak to YOU

And is it getting easier with experience?
"Practice makes perfect" - the saying does make sense
For as with any other craft or trade
You find out how the whole process is made
And what was new and strange becomes the norm
Just like the blacksmith keeps the furnace warm
And strikes the iron while still malleable and hot
A Wordsmith learns what works and what does not

Also, in my younger days I did write songs
And performed them too, and that belongs
In the same department as poetry
Both are about rhythm and symmetry

Can my creativity in any way be traced
To the fact that I officially embraced
Islam in late two thousand and six?
Did that maybe in some subtle way fix
A deeper connection which from then on
Enables me to get my writing done?

But My Journey to Islam started twenty years ago
So why now? Allahu alam [God knows] - for I do not know!

Twenty Thousand Lines - excuse me: HOW?
I do not really understand it even now
Maybe in the past it would have gone to my head
But since embracing Islam I have instead
Of a self-centered possibly conceited attitude
A clear and sharp focus for my heartfelt gratitude
And my Brothers and Sisters all know what I mean:
Al-hamdu-Lillah! Rabbi-al-Alameen!
[The praise belongs to Allah, Lord of all the Worlds]

Had anyone suggested five years ago
That my five hundred lines of poetry would grow
To a massive twenty thousand in four years and a half
My reaction would have been to shake my head and laugh...
For surely to do that would need a Word Superstar
Yet Twenty Thousand Lines - there they are!
But only because someone did persist
Unique combinations of words now exist
For you to love or hate or maybe just ignore -
Whatever your reaction: expect many more!

Twenty Thousand Lines - yes I know
It is just a number but it does go to show
That the old man in The Wordsmithy still works hard
Doing the bidding of The Digital Bard
For time has proven their common theme
And you should never change a winning team
So more hot topics where sparks will fly
Will be given the treatment the two always apply
Before results appear in the usual place
So do come to visit us in cyberspace

Yet quality not quantity is what matters more
I leave it to my readers to work out that score
For officially I have no opinion about that
Nor any time for such unimportant chat

But please take the time to read every line
The faults and blemishes are of course all mine
But that should not detract from what I try to say
And if somehow I could find a better way
Then I would not for one moment hesitate
But still I do the best that I can at any rate
To tell it like it is according to my view
Of the world - and to share it with YOU

Twenty Thousand Lines - my poems represent
Collectively a very serious investment
Of my precious time here on planet Earth
So it is my hope that you will find them worth
Reading at least once and maybe more than twice
Finally here is some fatherly advice
To those who have not read any of them yet
Assuming you have access to the Internet
There is really no excuse not to do so, and may
I suggest that you all read one poem every day

In which case I am a few months ahead
Speaking my mind about something someone said
Or I myself experienced, or thought or read or heard
And then surrendered to The Power of the WORD

*

Copyright © 2011 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Ibraheem

- what is in a name?

Written 4 April 2009 - (76 lines)

*

NOTE:
Ibraheem is Arabic for Abraham
and consists of the two parts ib and raheem
meaning father and many, respectively, so
"father of many" or "like a father to everyone".

*

Whenever in a line of poetry
I mention this name, it may seem
I talk about myself, but you see
It is prophet Ibraheem

*

Islam was taking root in my mind
And so when the time came
To embrace the faith, I set out to find
A good and worthy name

Yes, I selected it myself
From several I had met
In heavy books on many a shelf
And on the Internet

"Why Ibraheem?" you may well ask
And the question is good
If I now apply myself to the task
All will be understood

Abraham always appealed to me
Right from the early days
I still remember, it was he
And his simple ways -

That towered above all the rest
Leaving forever his mark
As the character I liked the best
The original patriarch -

Selected a very long time ago
To carry on the flame
Which has that unique spiritual glow
And his message was the same -

As that of the other famous men
Both before and since
The pure form, proven again and again
With the power to convince -

And the faith of Ibraheem inspired
All three of the holy triad
Giving each all he desired
Moses, Jesus, Muhammad

Another reason for my choice
Is I have always found
It lends itself to the human voice
I simply love the sound

In truth it did not take long until
I could feel and see
That from the choices available
It was Ibraheem for me

No disrespect to anyone here
But as regards the rest
Soon it was becoming clear
That Ibraheem was the best

And having found what I sought
I could hardly wait
To ask my local imam what he thought:
"Mashallah! That name is great!"

What Ib-Raheem actually means?
It depends on how it is done:
"Father of many", or the linguist gleans:
"Like a father to everyone"

The latter is my favourite
And as maybe you can tell
I like to think that, wait for it
It does describe me well

There is a possibility
That I might slip or swear
I feel the responsibility
So do take extra care

Aware that with a name like that
There are standards to observe
The conclusion I arrived at
There was a learning curve

And honestly, I am learning still
But the pace is gentler now
It is all about having the will
To improve yourself somehow

For my self-respect would certainly drop
I would go and hide in shame
If I failed in major ways to live up
To such an illustrious name!

*

Copyright © 2009 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Minimalism

- less is more!

Written late February 2009 - (156 lines)

*

Most people probably still assume
That we must increase our stake
We are all told daily we must consume -
Come on, give us a break!

Keeping two or three cars at a time
Is little but vanity
And owning more than one house is a crime
Against humanity -

Unless of course you invite someone
To live in such houses rent-free
So you can justify what you have done
Through some charity

Now, if stimulated properly
In every city and town
The manipulated property
Prices would soon come down -

To the immediate assistance
Of those left out in the cold
Who can only watch from the distance
As their lives are put on hold -

By developers who speculate
And exploit the common greed
For fast appreciating real estate
Ignoring those most in need -

Creating more problems for the common man
Who worries: "Will it ever stop?"
Read the small print: values CAN
Go down as well as up!

And so can, and do, exchange rates!
When that market gasps for air
Only more cash resuscitates -
Foreign owners beware!

Economists lecture at expensive courses
That are easy to understand:
It is all about free market forces
Supply and demand

Oh really? But I have come to the view
That to get out of the mess
Of boom and bust cycles, what we must do
Is all use less

If you have never done it before
Keep track now of what you spend
But less of everything is more
For everyone in the end

Having made my decision, it is less for me
Together let us stop the rot
Most important, use less energy
Renewable or not

A former software specialist
Flying high and enjoying the show
I chose to become a minimalist
Many years ago

No longer looking for trouble to shoot
I gave up the mad pursuit
Replacing my briefcase and business suits
With rucksack and climbing boots

I sold my house, then my sailing yacht
As befits a down-sizing man
Today all the earthly things I have got
Fit in a caravan

No shiny plastic-fantastic, true
Nor a beauty to behold
It is not exactly brand-spanking new
But around thirty years old

Yes, I could have bought a different one
Bigger, better, newer
But have you noticed as we move on
Our days are getting fewer

So wake up now and become aware
Of what really matters
And pity the multi-millionaire
With his only soul in tatters!

Now, this caravan was just sitting there
And it appealed to me
Badly neglected, it required some care
Best of all - it was free!

Eleven square metres approximately
Room to stand up and fall
The furniture is built-in, so you see
No need to shop for it all

There is somewhere to sleep and wash and feed
In the Wordsmith's hide-out haunt
Somewhere to sit and write or read -
What more do you want?

Having rolled out my bedding, I burst out: "Aha!
It is big enough for two!"
So if a young pretty Muslimah
Has nothing better to do -

With her time and life she could marry me
And inshallah we would see
Before very long the two would be three -
A happy family!

Little things I soon improved
To make it more functional
And the very first thing that I removed
Was the TV aerial!

I added utensils, a few pots and pans
And, if they can stand the windchill
I hope to add as part of my plans
A solar panel and windmill -

To generate my own electricity
And so be independent
Of the all-powerful monopoly
Whose profits are mis-spent

And as for water I will collect
The regular falling rain
The company will turn up to inspect
And send bills in vain

I put in the space meant for whisky and beers
Clothes for wind, rain and sun
Three boxes of books and some souvenirs -
Surely plenty for anyone

Last, my computer, which to be frank
I would rather be without
But my website, could I really crank
It all out by hand? I doubt!

So I accept my little PC
As a tool but no more than that
Should you be online and come across me
No time for idle chat!

If you need more room just open the door
And walk right outside
If it is not raining, you understand, for
At such times I stay inside

And should I wish to travel far
It has wheels so could be towed
Behind any more or less normal car
And disappear down the road -

To another place for some other time
Maybe never to return!
Dreaming is free and not yet a crime
And most bridges would burn!

I like my old caravan, so let
Me say it once again
There is room for it all, plus, how could I forget
The sounds of Beethoven!

Minimalism sets you free
Of the material chains
And surely even the blind can see
It is you that gains

Minimalism gives you time to think
And spurs you on with the prod
To explore and re-establish the link
With the one and only God

Minimalism is the way ahead
Not just for me but most
So do it now for when you are dead
You will have even less than a ghost

You may well have financed the rockets
Taking tourists to the moon
But remember there are no pockets
In the shroud they will wrap you in soon

For then it will be immaterial
What you owned and when and why
It is whether you set a good example
That will matter when you die...

*

Copyright © 2009 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Blue

- why are we attracted to certain colours?

Written 13-14 December 2008 - (108 lines)

*

Colours there are many of
I must have seen them all
Most I like but one I love
Whenever my eyes fall -

On that a special chemistry
Is triggered once again
God knows how but instantly
Somewhere in my brain

In the market or the shops
With many things to do
My wandering gaze always stops
The moment it meets - BLUE

For blue seems to call out to me
No other colour does
It really is a mystery
But I do not mind because -

No matter how many times a day
Whenever I see blue
It cheers me up in a certain way
Believe me, it is true

There are many kinds of blue
In lots of different shades
Seen in sunlight every hue
Grows more intense or fades

Some saturated like the sea
When free of waves and foam
Or when the sky is cloud-free
And like an endless dome

Some are weak and thin and pale
Like the mountain air
When a fast approaching gale
Warns the climber: beware!

And sure enough, before long
In hail and snow and sleet
The gusts will be so fierce and strong
To lift him off his feet!

Some iridescent as often seen
On butterflies, beetles and birds
The beauty of that amazing sheen
Is too much to put into words

Blue like the feet of God
On Mount Sinai, when
He spoke with Moses, gave the nod
And the tablets with the Ten

Simple answers appeal to me
Might this be a clue:
Is blue the first colour I see
Because my eyes are blue?

Surely there must be more to it?
Yet I wonder, deep down
Would blue still be my favourite
If my eyes were brown?

What are colours anyway
Do we really know?
Each one seems a tiny ray
Off the rainbow -

Electromagnetic energy
Dancing in space
Captured automatically
Passing my face -

Absorbed by my eager eye
Along the optic nerve
Silent streams of data fly
The brain waiting to serve -

Analysed without delay
Results ready to view
That wavelength will any day
Be translated into blue!

Is it magic or is it real?
The nature of light is such
That colours we can see and feel
Do not respond to touch

It must be strange and very sad
To be colour blind
Whilst other pleasures may be had
You would probably find -

Shades of red, yellow and green
In confusing overlay
No vibrant colours ever seen
To brighten up your way -

Except, to give you confidence
Yes, you guessed it - blue!
Surely no coincidence
That it comes shining through -

When all the other colours fail
To register as they should
Like a ray of hope in a desolate jail
Blue is truly good

So count your blessings every day
And give thanks where due
For me, I know that come what may
One of those is blue

That question still refuses to go:
Why DO I prefer blue?
I shall probably never know
I just know I do!

Or should I see it the other way
As reciprocity?
Could it be that I should say
That blue likes me?

Maybe the answer will come one day
Do not expect it soon
For enlightenment only comes my way
Once in a blue moon

But blue shall continue to tempt my eye
With its strange power to pull
Now at least you all know why
My world is BLUEtiful!

*

Copyright © 2008 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Hiking Viking

- that's me!

Written early November 2008 - (74 lines)

*

This latter-day Viking
Despite a love of biking
Discovered that hiking
Was more to his liking
Than risking his life on the ocean wave

Though not quite entailing
All the hazards of whaling
The trouble with sailing
The constant bailing
From the heaving railing
As the wind is wailing
The sails are flailing
And your strength is failing
It is really only for the truly brave

Or the suicidal
Thrown out of the bridal
Bed by a jealous rival
Now looking for a tidal
Whirlpool to be his deep and salty grave...

Tried my hand at rowing
Without really knowing
Which way I was going
Speeding up or slowing
The applause was great for the performance I gave!

My experience with horses
Not exactly at racecourses
Not only reinforces
My impression but endorses
The view that I could never get the beasts to behave

But I do love driving!
My ego is thriving
Forever striving
Yet still surviving
And in truth I have had only one close shave!

Spent some time playing
The guitar and folks were saying
My voice was like the braying
Of a sick donkey, praying
I would transpose the song at least one full octave...

Went cross-country skiing
For three years without seeing
Another human being
The polar bears were fleeing
So I survived the winters in their cosy snow cave

If out Nordic walking
I usually keep talking
To myself as I am stalking
The pheasants idly squawking
But be very careful or you might break your stave!

When after a quick snack
I strap on my rucksack
Road and path and trail and track
Are water off a duck's back
For this is the life that I really crave

To be added to my tally
Rising proud above a valley
Another peak will rally
My strength and I will sally
Forth to claim it briefly as my very own enclave

In a wilderness connection
My sense of direction
Is sheer perfection
Needing no correction
And always on the lookout for someone lost to save

Intrigued by every creature
And every mountain feature
There is nothing quite like nature
Now or in the future
I really could go on and on and on with this rave...

But somewhere I must finish
And whether you will relish
My lines or call them rubbish
Will in no way diminish
The fact that till completed I was their slave

*

Copyright © 2008 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

Grow Your Own

- in defence of beards

Written late April 2008 - (122 lines)

*

Most people call it by its proper name
A beard - but finding that too tame
Others use terms like "facial art"
Or "a personal statement" to set them apart
And some genius found the time to invent
The expression "facial embellishment"
While still others say "thatch for my T-cup"
All right, I just made that last one up

There are some who find it really weird
That I have such a big wild beard -
I find that strange for in actual
Fact it is surely more natural
To leave it growing merrily
Than mowing it artificially

*

But here are some answers if you must know:
In my late teens it started to grow
All by itself though the pace a little slow
I was happy and proud to let it do so
Now, I thought, the whole wide world can
See I am not a boy but a man!

As an IT-consultant I was rather astute
Smartly turned out in a business suit
Shirt and tie, matching shoes and belt
My exterior reflecting the way I felt
Always polite and never late
Looking for ways to increase my rate
From early in the morning till half past ten
It was: "Yes Sir! - No Sir! - You want it when?"
Those years are well in the past but I recall
That a neatly trimmed beard was part of it all

And as a sailor and a mountaineer
My beard never once made anybody sneer
Whether in harbour or riding a wave
No-one suggested that I should shave
In the wilderness an integral part of your kit
It looks even better with your frozen breath in it!

It is also a sunnah if you know what that is
(In Islam a recommended way or practice)
So when I embraced Muhammad's deen [faith]
I was naturally happy to be seen
Greeting the rest of the human race
With a beard framing my friendly face

And since then I have simply let it grow
Partly experiment and partly to show
My respect and compliance with the rules -
So what if it upsets some ignorant fools

Currently I look like a composite man:
A cross between the Vikings and the Taliban

*

According to recent statistics, most
Women say they are opposed
To men with beards, two thirds said: "No
Thank you! I would much rather go
On my own than run the risk of being seen
With a bearded man - for I am a queen!"

Before anyone starts to cause scenes
As to what this aversion really means
Just a moment, please hold on:
Where were those statistics done?
Are they truly representative
Of people as they currently live
Around the surface of the globe?
Was the sample just a narrow probe
Of countries only in the West?
If so, should we not ask the rest?
Were all major faiths included here
From every geographic sphere
And all socio-economic groups?

So before the beard-less warrior scoops
Up the last conclusion and troops
Off to proclaim the results to the sound
Of a trumpet - look at the background
And not only at what was found

I predict that a survey of Muslims would show
The rate of aversion to be fairly low
Hoping I will not have to eat my words
I say definitely below two thirds
And probably around one quarter or less
But that is just an (un-)educated guess

*

Physiologists have now been able to show
That as secondary sexual characteristics go
A man's beard, to one who understands
Equates to a woman's mammary glands

So there we have it, I rest my case!
Is it not better for mankind to base
Likes and dislikes on who we really are
Than on cultural habits imported from afar?

And I am confident that nine out of ten
Of the world's countless million men
Would swear an affidavit to pass any test
That from infancy to old age - breast is best

So WHY don't most women love beards?
Now THAT my friends is truly weird!
Exceedingly so, for after all
What could be more natural?

And to follow the logic of that line through:
What really is the matter with you?

*

And why would a man ever wish to shave?
Just think of the added-up time you could save!
Ten minutes a day over fifty years
Ask any calculator and the figure that appears
Is a total of just over eighteen weeks
Just to remove the fluff from your cheeks -
Time which could no doubt be better spent
So give it up today and repent

*

I have no polite answer to give when
Clean shaven or lightly bearded men
Decide to give me some friendly advice
About how much younger or how nice
I would look if I trimmed mine or shaved it off -
None of your business, I usually scoff
But what is it which prompts them to say it to me?
I never studied psychology...

Are you a man or just a mouse?
Are you hiding in your house
Unable to find a suitable spouse?
Ha! I knew those lines would arouse
Your anger - but before you reply
Maybe you should give it one more try!

So save your breath and stop your moan
See your doctor for a shot of hormone!
Better for both if you leave me alone
Go away now - and GROW YOUR OWN!

*

Copyright © 2008 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

As the Magpie Flies

- a personal out-of-body experience

Written mid April 2008 - (84 lines)

*

NOTE:
Just in case you do not know - a Magpie is a
bird of the crow family and about the same
size but in my opinion much prettier.

*

Once in my life I was a Magpie -
Honest! I tell you no word of a lie!
Maybe only for a fleeting moment
And here is how it came and went:

A couple of lines of background info -
In Germany many years ago
I worked as a freelancer at IBM
And one job was to assist them
Implement a system which was to set
The standard but which we now forget
Soon superceded by the early Internet

It was late summer and the day was bright
Working on the tenth floor, if I remember right
Sitting in my office at around noon
My colleague gone for lunch and I would follow soon
Needing a break from the technical routine
I looked away from the computer screen -

And out through the window to rest my eyes
On the trees, the clouds and the skies
And I noticed there was a pretty Magpie
On the roof of a taller building nearby
Just sitting there maybe admiring the view
Or possibly planning what next to do

Preening was obviously high on the list
Tidying up with a little twist
Of the head and using its shiny beak
To give the feathers that perfect tweak

Then, right on the edge of the vertical drop
It prepared itself with a little hop
Launched into space with an elegant dive
Which only a bird could hope to survive
And gracefully moved away in the air -
An experience I was about to share!

My soul found wings and was ready to fly
My body probably thought it would die
My stomach surged, I braced myself
Grabbing the desk and clutching a shelf -
The moment before I had been at ease
Now all I could do was instantly freeze
I do not know if my heart stood still
But the rest I remember - and always will...

*

Now you may not believe one word
And I know that to most this sounds absurd
But during that moment I was that bird -
Something of which I had only heard
Made contact however briefly and stirred
Into action some natural
And fundamental principle
Which overarches and underlies
All that walks or swims or flies -
Laugh if you must but I do believe now
That all living things are connected somehow

Was it simply the right time and place?
An unguarded instant in my inner space
Leaving behind a subtle trace
After the brief but total embrace
When thoughts for a second ceased to race?

Was I in some special receptive mood?
So little is properly understood!
Was it extraordinary empathy?
Or a case of - mistaken identity?
Had my soul already gone walkabout
Then entered the Magpie in a moment of doubt?

I cannot explain in an adequate way
The nature of what took place that day
But it DID happen so I know it was real -
As to what an event like this might reveal?
To myself it still only makes sense
As an out-of-body experience

And that of course proves that we do have a soul!
Like a prisoner briefly let out on parole
By the system which exercises control
The self may venture for an innocent stroll
Until re-arrested by the vigilant patrol
Of the physical world and its tight grip
On us all, even those who dare to slip
Away for a moment of timeless bliss -
All I can honestly tell you is this:
I am very grateful I did not miss
That ripple in time's monotonous flow
And if nothing else it goes to show
That had I blinked I would never know
How short is the distance to Paradise -
But only as the Magpie flies...

*

Copyright © 2008 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

My Journey to Islam

- finally on the straight path

Written mid August 2007 - (163 lines)

فمن يرد الله ان يهديه يشرح صدره للاسلام
If God intends to guide a man, He opens his bosom to Islam
al-Quran 6:125

*

My journey to Islam has indeed been long
But my boots are good and my legs are strong
My backpack has known both light and heavy loads
And wandering along all kinds of roads
Few were the places where I did not roam
At last I feel I have found the way home
It took a long time and I regret being late
But the once crooked path now appears to be straight

My starting point naturally can be found
In my fairly normal Scandinavian background
Although born in Copenhagen I grew up on a farm
In a small village and remember the charm
Spending much of my childhood playing in the woods
With my brothers - either Indians or little Robin Hoods

With secular parents and as an ethnic Dane
There was no encouragement to fill my brain
With religious matters, all that was to come
Much later but, looking back, I do see some
Signs of at least a beginning interest
In subjects which could probably best
Be generally labelled as spiritual -

I tried briefly to embrace the usual
Silly things that young people tend to do
But felt not only awkward but out of place too
So was never fully accepted by the group
And instinctively avoided the endless loop
Of parties and alcohol and went against the flow
By failing the drugs test: I always said NO!
That was not as easy as it may sound
But I did say NO and with that I found
A sense of pride and independence of mind
Whilst realising that I was of a different kind

*

I was drawn to Nature from very early on
When old enough to explore I was gone
And went to the mountains for the first time
Aged around twenty, and from then on to climb
Was a new-found passion which steadily grew
It was all that I really wanted to do
And soon I was a competent mountaineer
Spending all my spare time year after year
Satisfying my urge to travel and my demands
For adventure in the mountains of many different lands

Having laboured and struggled for hours to get
To the top you can finally relax and let
Your soul expand and your spirit fly!
On a windless day feel the silence of the sky!
The curvature of the Earth clearly spread
Out along the blue horizon ahead
And around you as far as the eye can see -
Just sit on the summit and simply BE!
On lucky days hear the beat of your own heart!
All too soon the time comes to depart
Unless you came prepared with sleeping gear
So stay alert and with a bit of healthy fear
Retrace your steps with extra care
For with the goal attained this is where
Most accidents happen - on the way down
Was the end of many a climber of renown

*

I had retrained to computers and tried to combine
Assignments with travelling and it worked out fine
Spent a few years in Arabia and had the chance
To learn the language but sadly took the stance
It was only for the money and English was my tongue -
Can you believe the things we do when we are young?
Had I only learnt Arabic all those years ago
I could read the Quran today in the flow
And layers of meaning of the original -
I still have not acquired the necessary skill
But one day inshallah I hope I will...

*

After that I sold my house and bought a boat
And spent the next few years living afloat
Sailing offshore, just yourself the wind and sea
Out of sight of any land, finally free
Of petty interruptions, the king of your own realm
Your little mobile island responding to the helm!
Or peacefully at anchor in some deserted bay
Having finished the chores sit and watch the day
Turn first into evening and then into night
Sleeping outside under stars or moonlight

*

Feeling generally disillusioned with the West
And the plastic culture that I so detest
Tempting consumers from a very early age
To chase empty shadows, I had to turn the page
And so I looked elsewhere and began to think
And search for answers and for a missing link
Between matter and spirit, between body and soul -
Something that could unite them and make me whole...

Wishing neither to criticise nor to be rude
But after investigating I had to conclude
That Christianity was for me in most respects
Not just found wanting but had major defects -
For more about that I would ask you to read
My poem Jesus Crisis and it should lead
You to understand what I mean when I say
That I always felt this would not be MY way

Neither did Buddhism nor Hinduism appeal
Sufficiently for me to consider them ideal -
The older I get the clearer that I am
And always was pre-programmed for Islam!

*

Travelling for many months in Muslim lands
I met Islam in action and began to understand
What a sensible and complete way of life it is
And without any resistance I realised that this
Was not only attractive but I had a strong
Feeling that this is where I always did belong
Of coming home or somehow having been here before -
From then on I wanted to learn more and more

I bought an English Quran and would read
And although I did find it interesting indeed
I could not connect in a meaningful way
Until out of the blue, suddenly one day
The book, or a part of it, came alive
When the words of chapter six verse one-two-five
Almost seemed to speak to me, that was the start
And since I began to practise that verse has been a part
Of every single prayer - may it remain so
Regardless where the rest of my journey may go

Once in Morocco at a market stall I heard
A beautiful recital and soon it occurred
To me that the Quran was floating in the air
Transfixed and listening, I simply stood there
Understanding only the occasional word
The player was decrepit, the sound was blurred
And the performer average, yet I did hear
The message itself and it was crystal clear
So direct and sincere, so pure and dignified -
The effect was so wonderful that I confess I cried...

*

In Istanbul the masjids took my breath away
And was inside at least one of them every day
The time I spent in Turkey I was able to learn
So much about that magic country - I shall return!

*

Little by little and one step at a time
It all fell into place and began to rhyme
And resonate with how I wanted to live
It all felt so natural and positive
I knew the direction I wanted to go
So made the shahada to let the world know
That there was now one Muslim more
Though I felt exactly the same as before
In truth the change was quite small because
I only became what I already was!

Having never prayed before I was almost afraid
But I need not have worried and before long I made
The wise decision to leave arrogance behind
To concentrate on how to focus my mind
Not yet an expert but it cannot be denied
It is therapeutic, peaceful and dignified
And without boasting I am happy to report
So far my tally is not one prayer short
Of what it should be, five times every day
But to be honest I also have to say
Due to worldly commitments not always on time
But Islam is pragmatic and that is not a crime

*

I ask myself often: why did it take so long
To heed my intuition which for years was so strong
Prompting and urging me towards Islam?
I simply do not know but hope that no harm
Was done by waiting until absolutely sure
That my reasons were good and sincere and pure

Islam is the way, not just for me but for us all
And some day soon inshallah YOU will hear the call
To prayer loud and clear from a minaret near you
May you not just hear it - but answer it too!

*

Copyright © 2007 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved

This Is My Jihad

- why am I writing all this?

Written late July 2007 - (40 lines)

*

This is my Jihad and it will go on
Until the battle and the war
Are fought and won and justice is done
And Muslim lands are free once more

Jihad means struggle as best you can
For whatever matters most to you
You may well have to change your plan
But know that you did all you could do

Were I half as old as I am today
I might well be thinking of
Packing my rucksack without delay
Learn how to use a Kalashnikov -

And travel out to join my friends
My Brothers and Sisters in need
To speed up the day when the slavery ends
And what we believe in succeeds

But that is too late I realise
So I have chosen to fight with words
Cutting through the fantastic lies
Like a Jihadist with his sword

Or do I really have a choice?
If nothing else it keeps me sane
Doing my best to give a voice
To the frustration, anger and pain

From Chechnya to Palestine
In the name of national security
We see the truly barbaric design
Of injustice and inhumanity

Sometimes my aim is to ridicule
More often it is to lay bare
The evil actions of those who rule
The inaction of those who do not care

And I will keep on writing this way
Inshallah until my hand is too weak
So you can read what I had to say
When I am no longer here to speak

For my words will still be everywhere
On the world-wide-web in cyberspace
Maybe for future generations to share
At a different time in another place...

*

Copyright © 2007 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved