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Time to Change
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


 

Time to Change

 

He walked so proud full self desire

Of bitterness and guile

Of shameful lust seething like fire

Leading to deeds so vile

 

Till where he wandered Satan cheered

The devil played his tune

Till all but self was truly seared

And love shrivelled to ruin

 

His life to sin he’d rearrange

No depth he failed to reach

No wayward act was seen as strange

That Satan had to teach

 

Until one day through constant lust

Till yearning bled him dry

Till all life’s will had turned to dust

He sought a way to die

 

Could nowhere peace on earth be found?

Had no one love to give?

Could no one guide to safer ground?

And help a wretch to live?

 

Remorse knocked firmly at the door

Revealing Satan lied

He opened willing Christ before

And bid Him come inside

 

He saw The Truth, his sinful past

The lust in Satan’s bed

He saw to life the dye was cast

Failing to bow his head

 

The King of life had heard his choice

Had seen the change above

And with forgiveness in His voice

Stretched out his hand of love.....


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Submitted: Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Last Updated: Wednesday, November 19, 2014

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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