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My Brother Couldn't Come
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

My Brother Couldn't Come.

My brother said he couldn't come

He left his place for me

His neighbours think it rather dumb

His friends are bound to see


You know he's been to church before

He said it wasn't nice

He said that he was more than sure

He'll never go there twice


The songs were dull the music old

The pews were hard as steel

He sat two hours in the cold

And then was asked to kneel


He said he didn't fall asleep

He found the sermon good

That when a few began to weep

He felt he understood


You say through Christ mankind is blessed

The devil's not a fake

That down in hell they find no rest

And how my life's at stake


You're not the wisest here on earth

With me; you went to school

You say in Christ there's second birth

And that I'm not a fool


I see my friend that you believe

You've changed these past few years

You say the devil will deceive

But Jesus loves and cares


I'd like to think He loves me too

That for my soul He died

I'd love to join you faithful few

And rise as Jesus' bride.....

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Submitted: Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Last Updated: Thursday, November 16, 2017

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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