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The Pain of Love
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

The Pain of Love

On Him they spat whose eyes they bound

They beat God’s Son then turned Him round

“Now tell us Christ, who struck Your head”

To Pilot; then, God’s Son was led

 

“Whip this man, as the law demands”

Said Pilot, as he washed his hands

The Lamb’s flesh, soon began to crack

Each time the whip met with His back

 

As Jesus felt the Roman lash

God’s blood, poured free from every gash

His flesh in shreds, His bones laid bear

Then from His beard, they ripped the hair

 

God’s Lamb was made, a thorny crown

Upon His head, man pressed it down

“Hail! King of Jews” the soldiers quipped

While God’s own blood, just dripped and dripped

 

This all took place throughout the night

Till dawn brought forth, a gruesome sight

Battered and torn, His body bent

Bach to the Jews, God’s Son was sent

 

God’s Lamb, was nailed upon a tree

From hands and feet, Life’s blood ran free

Man pierced! His side, the lance turned red

Thus to ensure, Jesus was dead

 

No word yet found, portrays the pain

Christ endured, again and again

God knew; these things, right from the start

This sight, to melt the strongest heart

 

Salvation; bloomed on Calvary Tree

When Jesus died, for you and me

Still now! His love, floods every land

This truth, the world, must understand.....

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Submitted: Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Last Updated: Thursday, July 28, 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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