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Stained Windows
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


†††† Stained windows

ďLooking outside I screamed aloud

But when I looked again

It wasnít Jesus in the cloud

But dirt upon the pane!

A film of oil a smudge of grease

Had somehow changed the light

Taking away my inner peace

And giving such a fright

Lord! Like the window in my heart

Has dirt for which I shame

Now through the scare, I choose to start

Once more to serve Your name

Forgive me please my wayward sin

Send forth Your precious Dew

Purge free the filth fowling within

Ignite Your Flame anew

You see these tears Iím crying now

You hear the words I pray

With contrite heart to Christ I bow

Allow this child to stay

This time Iíll keep Your every rule

Iíll serve with all my might

Iíll play no more the devilís fool

If You send forth Your Light

Today my God I understand

I† now repent my ways

Allow me take Your outstretched hand

That I may see Your face

I thank You for the filthy stain

You used to set me free

I thank You for my window pane

Through which lifeís Truth I seeĒ.....


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Submitted: Friday, March 9, 2012

Last Updated: Friday, March 9, 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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