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When the Lion Wakes
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


† † When the Lion Wakes

Complacence; is a self made jail

Obedience; Heavenís key

Ignorant, stagnant weíll rot and fail

Too proud to bend the knee

Does God not see His gifts unused?

Talents Heís given free!

Has Satan made us so confused?

Too blind The Truth to see!

There should be music in our stride

In hearts a joyful song

Godís Son has chosen us as bride

And woos us all day long

Some say Iím neither priest or king

With talent fine or fair

I have no voice for Christ to sing

No gift the world to share

Yet all in Christ should shine as light

Sparkle as morning dew

Can God not use a widowís mite?

In service of the few

We need to use what Heaven gives

In church and on the street

The world should see God truly lives

Through Jesusí royal elite

in truth; the least are blessed by grace

When God and man entwine

When lifeís received through loveís embrace

When drinking Heavenís wine

A widow's mite; is all it takes

However slight or small

The devil knows when talent wakes

Manís binding chains will fall.....†


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Submitted: Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Last Updated: Friday, July 19, 2013

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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