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I Heard a Voice
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


I Heard a Voice

††††

Last week my room was filled with light

Then someone called my name

I thought it strange as though it might

Have come within a flame

It seemed alive so strangely bright

I know it sounds absurd

I thought Iíd dreamed this awesome sight

Until the voice was heard

The voice I heard I know was real

It came to me so near

Then on my skin I thought to feel

Fire that burned in here

I heard the voice again last night

My wall began to gleam

It seemed to set my soul alight

I know it was no dream

The speaker still I failed to see

Though peace I felt within

ďIíve come my child to set you free

From all your wicked sin

Iíll wash away your waward past

A brand new life Iíll give

I am the first I am the last

Believe; my child and live

Since first you cried, I heard you say

If you Lord God are real

ĎPlease hear these words to you I pray

And know the way I feelí

Child, since that day Iím always here

Your God is in your heart

Trust in me, have no more fear

From you Iíll never partĒ.....


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Submitted: Sunday, July 24, 2011

Last Updated: Sunday, July 24, 2011

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


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