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


 

Nature Resounding

 

 Ever wonder a great oak tree?

Where thick roots grip the earth

Where branches stretch mighty and free

Praising who gave it birth

 

Spare thought of yellow daffodils

Of roses red and white

Who’s sweet bouquet the air so fills

Nature with great delight

 

Painted by God with smiling faces

Pressing their heads above

Bursting forth with diverse graces

Waving unified love

 

Hear the bees sharing blessing

Nightingales on the wing

Lark and dove sprightly caressing

Whilst to The Lord they sing

 

Insects galore jumping dancing

Crickets and tiny fleas

Deep under ground secret romancing

As high above in trees

 

A warm summer’s day quietly walking

Sampling natures fair

Hearing squirrels, sparrows squawking

As eagles take the air

 

High in the hills red deer leaping

Sheep with lambs roam the dales

Thieves of the night only are sleeping

While fox cubs chase their tails

 

If nature and church would unite

Giving God each our all

What sweet aroma, wondrous sight

Watching the devil fall.....


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Submitted: Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Last Updated: Tuesday, November 17, 2015

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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