What is this thing that holds us captive,
a slave to sin here ever after.
A struggle wrought with perils abounding,
deeper debt our soles are mounting.
It seems as though no place to hide,
foul tempest sin which wars inside.
Calamity taunts at every turn,
an alluding peace our heart dost yearn.
What I would, I’m lost to do,
the stain of sin, a darkened hew.
What is this dreadful pulling down,
but sin itself, a screaming sound.
A choking, gasping, grab for air, the weight of sin, so much despair.
Who is such man, whom spirals down,
the man not covered, by His Crimson Gown!


About Mike

I'm a native of Chicago, but have spent the last 20 years living in the Ozarks with my wife of 25 years. Some of my favorite things to do other than write is to BBQ, smoke meat, and brew craft beers. I also write a blog on Christian Living which you can visit at
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Sin!

  1. jasonS says:

    Wonderful, Mike! Actually reads like a great hymn to me. Beautifully done. Thank you.

  2. Glynn says:

    This is one beautiful sonnet. The words flow toward that last line, that crimson gown.

  3. mdshanta says:

    It’s been a long time since I’ve shared any of my poetry; I really appreciate the remarks.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s