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How Sad.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


How sad journeys run foul in life

With suitcase pack and bags

Hand in hand as the devil’s wife

Dressed in one’s filthy rags

 

Oblivious to The Father’s Light

Not knowing Heaven’s Way

Unmindful of the unseen fight

Leading those lost astray

 

How sad to see life's sheep llife's flock

Ewes twixt thistle and thorn

Following rams running amok

Each by their master shorn

 

The thieving devil shows no care

Nor love can they await

For Satan’s hordes have nought to share

But evil served with hate

 

Blinded, the foolish sheep wander

Deceived, through hill and dale

Once in a field then out yonder

Would someone lift their veil?

 

Would someone open wide their eyes

Show them The Way to go

Lead them safely to Paradise

Where living waters flow

 

But will they come toward the voice

Heeding salvation call?

Make life’s wisest most supreme choice

Or dither till they fall

 

We all are sheep oft somehow blind

With choices yet to make

Walk The Way God’s Shepherd assigned

Or make a sad mistake.....


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Submitted: Friday, March 16, 2018

Last Updated: Friday, March 16, 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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