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Like Sheep In The Wild.....
Viewed Last 24 Hours: 1 time

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

We should be on the inside

As Adam was before

But disobedience with his bride

Concealed The Bridegroom’s door

 

As nomads now we roam the world

Each like a naughty child

Through every wind of dogma hurled

Like lost sheep in the wild

 

Abba; crying all night and day

In fields mountain or hill

Hoping The Shepherd shows The Way

To change His former will

 

Not knowing He truly loves us

But only hates all shame

However much we cause a fuss

His love remains the same

 

But where on earth did true love go?

Man’s planted love within

Through faith will not again it grow

To fight one’s lust for sin

 

We know, we have something lacking

That somehow, we must find

But without God’s righteous backing

We’re walking lost and blind

 

We need to fast we need to pray

Come in from out the cold

Unlike the foolish sheep astray

We’ll stay! Inside The Fold

 

Its hope through faith we nomads need

To enter Heaven’s Door

Praying The Shepherd take the lead

And guides us home once more.....

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Submitted: Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Last Updated: Thursday, June 22, 2017

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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