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Pasha! A Cockatiel 1991-2015.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

How oft in my lounge when I enter

I picture him perching there

My friend, delight, much the centre

Such love, sweet joy he would share

 

Teasing my hair, kissing my ears

Caged with an open door

Pasha lived with me, twenty-five years

Lord God how I wish it were more

 

God's praise he'd utter, plainly would sing

Now smiling, as I recall

Pruning his feathers, flapping a wing

Then snuggle up like a ball

 

Definitely Lord, for birds you care           Mt.6:25-34

Of this! I'm more than sure

In Heaven, Pasha will sing there

Forever and ever more

 

With yellow crown, wings sprinkled with grey

Amazing black sparkling eyes

Blessed was my heart my soul every day

This side of Paradise

 

Why should this creature of Yours face death

So innocent like a dove

Living, thriving with life's given breath

Sharing such precious love

 

How can perfection be greater?

What can this wonder outshine?

What else Lord God as creator

Make better creature divine?

 

His beak would nuzzle my shoulder

My neck, cheek, chin, he'd caress

Life's cares and woes seemed to smoulder

Truly these facts I confess.....

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Submitted: Thursday, August 3, 2017

Last Updated: Friday, August 4, 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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