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One Way Only
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

 

One Way Only

 

We’ve subways, highways, speedways too

Tunnels bridges galore

Somehow somewhere there’s someway new

Leading to Satan’s door

 

But who’ll seek out The Way on high?

Regardless of the strife

Who’ll walk the road where self must die?

Crossing The Bridge to life

 

Diversions are along The Way

Oft Barriers to climb

Yet not a toll has man to pay 

But that he’s free of crime

 

A living stream is free to use

Refreshment can be won

Cleansing of filth that man must lose

Before he travels on

 

The road is long the hour’s late

Sprite steps have lost their spring

Who’ll carry on through Heaven’s Gate?

Where Christ is Lord and King

 

No car can scale Salvation Heights

No train can find a rail

But those ordained to God’s delights

Will live and never fail

 

As old as hills as fresh as dew

Life’s Path is through The Lord

Narrow, straight and always  true

That love can but afford

 

Reserved for sheep of Jesus’ fold

No beast is ever seen

And though it isn’t paved with gold

It leads to pastures green.....

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Submitted: Saturday, February 28, 2015

Last Updated: Sunday, March 1, 2015

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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