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

Skin Deep

       

A stewardess was in the air

On yet another flight

Her form and face were more than fair

In which she took delight

 

She thought the world was at her feet

And at her beck and call

Beauty had not just brought conceit

It also brought her fall

 

Her friends had said she had it made

Her ego, thought it true

Until her looks began to fade

And noticed by the crew

 

She’d had no wish to serve the Lord

Too vain she thought of self

Until the day she saw the hoard

Of jars upon her shelf

 

Ointments, paints, lipsticks creams

Jewellery for looking good

The end had come to all her dreams

How plain she understood

 

She thought how long could still she fly?

Her mind was all-askew

How soon would come her time to die?

Whatever could she do?

 

A tract was placed within her hand

She read God’s word within

The truth she learned to understand

Vanity was her sin

 

She cried to God with all her heart

Her cry was not in vain

God granted her a brand new start

Right there inside the plane.....

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Submitted: Saturday, July 23, 2011

Last Updated: Saturday, July 23, 2011

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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