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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson




I bless the day when first we met

Though long was gone his wife

Never the times will I forget

That helped to change my life


Tears would flood those wise old eyes

Then with a smile he’d turn

That gleaming face through years made wise

How much the world could learn?


His back now bent with shaking hand

An air of constant grace

How could I learn or understand

What formed his furrowed face?


I see him walk with shuffling stride

His destination sure

On Heaven’s Wind one day he’ll ride

Like s other saints before


Drinking The Truth like sweet old wine

Eating of Heaven’s Bread

This living branch within The Vine

Has long to self been dead


Revealing Christ was long his choice

God’s Promise dwelt inside

The peace and joy within his voice

Was difficult to hide


Amazing grace his soul would sing

Such passion filled my heart

I thought at times I’d take to wing

And from this world depart


Such precious moments day and night

Always they will remain

To God and I a sheer delight

His life’s not lived in vain.....

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Submitted: Saturday, April 18, 2015

Last Updated: Saturday, July 28, 2018

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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