Welcome to my blog. I'm afraid it won't be updated too frequently, as I only write when moved to write. These are a group of my poems, as written through the often difficult trek of the past nine months (at present) of my life.
I hope they speak to you and somehow reach the chords of your life, and that God will bring you through as He without doubt is doing to me.

God bless you.
~Jane Johnson,
August 14th, 2010

Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Who Am I?

Who can I talk to?
Who cares to see
The desperate, broken
Part of me?

Who can I talk to?
Where can I go?
Only a rhetoric
Which stops the flow.

Who can I talk to?
A heart broken that bleeds
So many blessings
So many needs

Who can I talk to?
What will I become?
The ones I did talk to
From them I now run.

Who can I talk to?
Those that do care
Can only repeat
What I know and have shared.

Who can I talk to?
The guys I did trust -
Fell in love or have left
All fallen to dust.

Who can I talk to?
"Trust God, t'will be well."
"Curse God and die."
Somewhere hope fell.

Confused, alone
Lost in the mist
Reaching to silence
Tears at the twist

Who can I turn to?
Where is my Home?
Heaven rejects me
Earth makes me roam.

Who can I talk to?
Stability please...
Never asked for stagnation
Lowered standards with ease

Why do they leave me?
What can they see?
Why do they romance me?
Please leave it be.

Who can I talk to?
What will fill
The hole in my heart
Making me so ill?

From Doctor to Dalek...
The clock's striking late.
Subtract all love
Leaves empty - not hate?

The hole must be filled
With what? Must be thick...
I've forcefed it God,
Now it's making me sick.

I know He's the cure,
Confused as I sound.
What I don't know is how
Why silence is found.

God, You're my life,
My love and my joy,
But You won't fill this hole -

I've run out of words,
You'll be glad to hear.
Now all that is left -
"Who am I? Why am I here?"

Why flow the tears
And nothing is found?
Why in this storm
Is there no solid ground?

Where are my standards?
Gone to the grave
With the mockers that mocked
And despised to save.

I'm going, going, gone
A bidder there will be.
Maybe someone can glue together
What remains of me.

Saturday, June 28, 2014

The Three S-Musketeers

The three musketeers went out today
They took their dogs and went to play.
Their names were Stephanie and Sarah and Sian
The three S's, they were known, on their way to harm.
For forging ahead, through mud and the rain
They found massive stingers about to cause pain.
The nettles were thick, the zapping was sure
And the weeds, they grew thicker as we fought some more.

Sarah took Pippin and marched through the grass...
As Stephanie screamed and Sian came last.
For spiders and wasps was all Stephanie could see
And she finally freaked out at being stung by a bee.
The brave Musketeers - turn back? Oh, not they.
For back was as bad, and they were halfway.
The unknown was better than what they knew they would face
And they were armed with dogs and leads, but no mace.

The chitter and chatter became screams and howls...
When finally Sian said, "There's no more - uncowl!"
They stopped to administer the dock leaves on sores...
And Sarah commented, "The air smells of...more."
Stephanie looked down at the stains on the ground..
And said "Oh my gosh. It's blood that you've found!"
Brave Sian-Sherlock-Holmes took one sniff and she said,
"Let's get out; I'm not stopping" and she turned and fled.

They realised soon that the red stains were mud...
Then found that the squelch was even worse than blood.

As they headed back home after their long adventure
They decided to name-change to avoid people's censure.
And now Sarah, gallant Athos has become.
Melancholy swordsman and noble in one.
Stephanie the character of Aramis takes,
As she has romantic heart in the make.
Sian has adopted Porthos the Round,
And baldrics and poetry besides she has found.

The Three Musketeers salute you all
Now that the Three S's are no more!

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Demon Child with Demon Eyes

Demon eyes, demon child.
What's inside that makes you wild?
What's the thing that they all see?
That evil twisted part of me.
Freaky face with mouth of lies -
Demon child with demon eyes.

"Don't defile God's handiwork!
Stop claiming that there's only mirk."
Am I really? How can I be
When that's all you claim to see in me?
Forget the fight to try for good.
Apparently that's only crud.
All you see is Demon child,
Perhaps it wakes all your 'defiled'.

I hate this twisted poetry.
It only comes out in agony.
But what do they care? They laugh and scorn -
Other hearts will bleed and mourn.
It's near impossible to tell
Who's from heaven with their echoes of hell.
Gossip-grieve, they bury the corpse
Of Demon child they killed with thoughts.

When sin is birthed, then it is death.
I was slain on their whispered breath.
Their 'loving concern' behind my back -
So like the Master, isn't that?
Forget the good - and who will be
The first to throw a stone at me?
Throw her back to the darkness - you'll see
Only Demon child inside of me.

The devil's near to claiming his prize -
She's overcome by Demon eyes.

In constant war you cannot see,
There's death that lives and life killed for me.
You don't care, but I am free.
I'm God's own child. He died for me.
I don't have logic or wisdom or words.
My head is stupid and my love is cursed.
But somehow, there's One Who lives for me.
I'm God's. I'm loved. I'm safe. I'm free.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Tick, Tock

Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Listen to the little clock.
Telling us the time has come
To go to sleep.

Close your eyes and listen hard.
Another second has gone by.
A clock chimes out as you sit and stare
Another note floating in the air.
Reaching up to grasp it
But it's flown way up high...

You talk and laugh and wonder
What your life will be like.
But with careless gaiety
And ceaseless verbosity
As you're waiting for life to begin
You're already taking the hike.

The minutes that are ticking by
Are the ones you must count right now.
For those tickings are the seconds
That form the chains and bonds
That make your life what it is
What you reap is what you sow.

Don't while away the hours
In endless dreams-to-be
Now is the time worth grasping
For it's the only one sure of having.
You can hope for the future but don't
Forget to use now faithfully.

Cuckoo, cuckoo!
Little bird is telling you -
'Close your eyes, another night -
And go to sleep.'

Nursery Rhyme ~ Unknown
In between ~ Jane Johnson