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Who Call My Name
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


...Who Call My Name


�I can�t forget the time we met
The nights I failed to sleep
Tossing turning waking in sweat
With blankets in a heap

For days my food I couldn�t eat
My head felt though in two
My face looked whiter than a sheet
What was this child to do?

With problems more than I could bear
No sign of any peace
Could no one come my plight to share?
Could no one bring release?

I then recalled when young and small
Hearing my mother say
�Whenever your back�s against the wall
Kneel down my child and pray�

Nothing remained for me to do
No place for me to go
My only hope my God was You
I prayed for You to show

I well recall I cried Your name
�If Jesus You are true�
Right there in truth my God You came
And made me part of You

I don�t know why it came to be
Or how it all took part
I only know You came to me
And now live in my heart

Inside burns deep Your Living Flame
Inside�s Your Guiding Light
No more could I remain the same
Since Heaven came that night.....


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Submitted: Saturday, July 23, 2011

Last Updated: Sunday, July 29, 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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