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Thank You Mama Thank You.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

What in the world was I thinking?

What foolishness was mine?

Depraved, immoral while drinking

Satanic lethal wine

 

Intelligent, strong, young, aware

Everything seemed right

I didn’t want, I didn’t care

Until I saw The Light

 

‘Twas summertime, our door stood wide

Quiet I walked straight through

Mama was speaking as she cried

“Lord God, what can I do?”

 

Not seeing, or hearing me there

Continuing to weep

“Will not my child receive Life’s share

Before I fall asleep”

 

Walking, where my Mother could see

Whispering in her ear

“Mama, were you crying for me

Can Jesus, really hear”

 

Smiling, no more on bended knees

Taking hold of my hand

“My child, believe such times as these

Few people understand

 

God knows His children, everywhere

Knows each one’s desire

Considers each and every prayer

Mine, for you down here”

 

Thank you, Mama, for loving me

Revealing I’m in God’s view

By faith believing He’ll set me free

In Heaven to rise with you.....

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Submitted: Saturday, October 20, 2018

Last Updated: Saturday, October 20, 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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