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Tares (1)
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Tares (1)

 

They seek him here they seek him there

They seek him far and wide

They seek in Christ to find a tare

Where none could ever hide

 

The inquisition’s come and gone

That sought to kill; and burn

Relentless though the search goes on

Will no one ever learn?

 

Did Christ not say that tares should stand?

May grow amidst the wheat?

Till harvesters throughout each land

Would burn them at His feet?

 

Yet ruthless, man will hunt and search

In every land they cry

Till open warfare’s in the church

Whereby God’s children die

 

Like ferrets; some would seek them out

Like lions night and day

Till tender plants, begin to doubt

Then fall or drift away

 

Deceived and robbed of Heaven’s share

Lost from Salvation’s hand

Believing now to be a tare

Failing to understand

 

They walk the earth as living dead

No place for them to go

Their blood is on a brother’s head

And not some evil foe

 

How can we say this one’s a tare?

Man’s eyes are less than dim

The least with whom God’s meal we share

Could well belong to Him….


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Submitted: Monday, November 12, 2012

Last Updated: Monday, November 12, 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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