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Memories of Youth.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

     Memories Of Youth.....

He felt he was a special child

Before the age of ten

A little shy a little wild

Mischievous now and then

 

He always knew that God was real

Sensations though were rare

So slight but yet he’d often feel

That something else was there

 

He felt no place He could belong

No town he felt to stay

He knew when things were right and wrong

But how; he couldn’t say

 

He’d heard the gospels as a youth

Partook the bread and wine

Was not quite sure about The Truth

And thought five years were fine

 

He gave no thought that he would die

He had no fear to go

He’d often dream that he could fly

Above his every foe

 

He’d wave his hands an inch or two

With arms held by his side

Then with his mind away he flew

Upon The Wind he’d ride

 

When old and grey his heart was glad

He found his Master’s hand

Though most of life he’d felt so sad

He learned to understand

 

This story’s true I’ve had to tell

The world these facts may see

I know each detail very well

Because they speak of me!.....

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Submitted: Monday, September 2, 2013

Last Updated: Thursday, September 5, 2013

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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