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The Prodigal's Return
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


The prodigal’s return

I feel I’m lost in life so cursed

Depressed beyond compare

At home with Dad seemed dull at first

But now I’m gone from there

 

I’m sick to death and awfully sad

Because of foolish sin

I’m so afraid to ask my Dad

If I may go back in

 

So miserable, it’s hard to cope

I think of Dad a lot

I wonder if there’s any hope

Should I return or not

 

My future here is awfully dim

If now I can’t return

How I regret my leaving him

How deep inside I yearn

 

Through dreadful things I’ve done and said

My way has been so hard

But now who’s waving up ahead

Who’s calling from the yard

 

“Come in my Child, I’m pleased you’re here

I’m glad to see your face

You fill my heart with joy to cheer

Come in and take your place

 

I saw you coming up the hill

I recognised your walk

Now come and eat, receive your fill

Come in my child let’s talk

 

Embrace me now before you rest

For long has been the day

You know that home is always best

And now you’re here to stay” .....


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Submitted: Thursday, March 1, 2012

Last Updated: Thursday, March 1, 2012

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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