The Way of The Cross
Our Jesus is condemned to die
Oh, Savior, now from Earth you part.
You do not sigh, nor do you weep,
Though our sins have pierced your heart.
Dear Jesus bears the Holy Cross,
Our Savior of all humankind,
For us you start this journey now,
Still endless love for us you find.
Our Jesus falls beneath the Cross;
So dreadful now to bear this pain.
Dear Jesus, when we fall in sin,
Please help us rise up once again.
Our Savior meets his Mother dear,
Mary, anguished and depressed,
Please help us face our sorrows too…
Live up to all our trying tests.
A man named Simon of Cyrene
Appears to help our Savior’s plight
To lift the weight of his great Cross…
Lord, burden us to spread your light.
Veronica wipes our Savior’s face.
Look now! His imprint there to stay!
Please on our souls your imprint make
And help us keep it there, we pray.
Dear Jesus falls down on the path,
Again now for the second time.
But soon he rises to go on,
Lord, help us up to stay in line.
Our Jesus meets some women now,
They kneel down to mourn and weep.
“Weep not for me,” He says to them,
“But for your children, the lost sheep.”
Our Jesus falls again, this time
His journey's nearly at an end.
Dear Jesus, when we fall in sin,
Please grant us wisdom to amend.
Our Lord now stripped of all his clothes—
This torture is so sad and cruel.
Please, Jesus strip our souls of sin,
Our hearts and souls you always rule.
Our Jesus, now nailed to His Cross—
Your death, dear Lord, is very near.
Sweet Savior nail our souls to you,
And grant us grace to have no fear.
Oh, the dreaded Crucifixion!
Our Jesus now so humbly dies,
While all the sins and sins to come…
Are placed before his tear-filled eyes.
Our Lord is gently taken down,
In his dear Mother’s arms is placed,
Oh Mary, Mother of our God,
Help ease our sorrows to be faced.
Now, Jesus placed within his tomb,
To rise again on Easter Day—
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
Oh, great day of Resurrection!
From tomb he rises up to sky,
With all God’s angels by his side
He joins his Father up on high.
Oh, great day of Resurrection!
He rose again on Easter Day!
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Death and Resurrection of Christ
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Copyright © Sandra Haight
In quietude of early dawn
she stood on Easter Day,
where rested now her dearest son
too early passed away.
As light’s first rays peeled shadows from
the grave’s cold marbled stone,
she leaned and whispered into wind
her words of sorrow sown.
“I’ll never see his face again!”
she cried to wind and God.
“Why you, my son?” With stifled sob
she fell to grassy sod.
And then resplendent in the east,
as if to give reply,
the sunrise broke and seemed to loose
the truth from crimson sky.
Though blind she’d been, she now could see.
As earth was bathed in red,
it dawned on her that Easter morn
how Christ for all had bled.
Our worldly time is very short;
immortal all shall be.
The Comforter assured her this;
her son again she’d see.
By Andrea Dietrich
For the "Easter Inspirations" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
Many years ago, on a cold afternoon,
someone was killed on the place of the skull,
there were people at the sight and they all agreed,
the man who was killed was not a false man at all.
Now that he is dead, on that cold afternoon,
I could have saved Him, if I had been there that day,
but then His mission would have been incomplete,
He would have lived and changed His history my way.
But after three days His tomb was empty,
and the Son of God had vanished from His grave,
so His victory was complete,
and I from sin am no longer its awful slave.
Now I think of the man, who died alone that day,
he was not just a man, the Son of God they say;
nobody knows, nobody cares,
nobody cares, but me!
Everybody knows, everybody cares
everybody cares, as well as me!
Copyright © Alfred Vassallo
the day is comming
and is almost here
that glorious sunday
of easter cheer
kids will be wearing
their brand new suits
with spring time colors
and looking cute
and sunday morning
they'll say their speech
little do they know
it's the first lesson they'll teach
the easter egg hunt
will soon pursue
colored eggs and candy
hidden from view
all the children gathering
for a special day
the real hidden treat
was jesus walking out of the grave
Copyright © The Situation
Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.
Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.
“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?
No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.
Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Copyright © Caryl Muzzey
This Easter season, let me stay
With my Lord, as He wends His way.
To turn away would be treason
Let me stay, this Easter season.
Let me be she who lifts the cross,
Who comforts Mary in her loss.
Right by His side I long to be.
Who lifts the cross, let me be she.
I want to be of lonely few
Who are still there in morning dew,
First the rolled away stone to see.
Of lonely few, l want to be.
Let me go forth to spread the news.
Our dear Lord chose His life to lose.
He died for me of little worth.
To spread the news, let me go forth.
The Easter story, often told,
Is fresh as in those days of old.
Let me tell of its pure glory.
Often told, the Easter Story.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
Chocolate bunnies and Easter eggs,
Fluffy chicks and lambs at play,
The spring of the year is a beautiful time,
And we celebrate as the time draws nigh,
To remember the reason for all our good cheer;
For now is the time The Resurrection draws near.
We celebrate Jesus who conquered the foe,
Of Sin and Death and delivered our souls,
Up from the abyss where we languished in wait,
Beneath the burden of unspeakable hate.
He marched into Hell and in triumph brought out,
All who are His and they came with a shout;
Victory is ours because Jesus lives,
He's salvaged our souls and He's cleansed and forgives,
All who will come to Him, on us He bestows,
A robe of His Righteousnesss as it was foretold!
We honor the Sacrifice made by Father and Son,
And we honor the love that redeemed us as one.
We celebrate the Victory won over our foe.
We celebrate Jesus, our Conquering Hero.
"BUT I AM TELLING YOU THIS STRANGE AND WONDERFUL SECRET;
WE SHALL NOT ALL DIE, BUT WE SHALL ALL BE GIVEN NEW BODIES.
IT WILL ALL HAPPEN IN A MOMENT, IN THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE, WHEN THE TRUMPET IS BLOWN; FOR THERE WILL BE A TRUMPET BLAST FROM THE SKY AND ALL CHRISTIANS WHO HAVE DIED WILL COME ALIVE WITH NEW BODIES THAT WILL NEVER DIE.
AND THEN WE WHO ARE STILL ALIVE WILL SUDDENLY HAVE NEW BODIES TOO FOR OUR EARTHLY BODIES WE HAVE NOW THAT CAN DIE MUST BE TRANSFORMED INTO HEAVENLY BODIES THAT CAN NOT PERISH . WHEN THAT HAPPENS THEN AT LAST THIS SCRIPTURE WILL COME TRUE,"DEATH IS SWALLOWED UP IN VICTORY. O DEATH WHERE IS THY VICTORY? WHERE IS THY STING? FOR SIN, THE STING THAT CAUSES DEATH IS GONE AND THE LAW WHICH REVEALS OUR SIN WILL NO LONGER BE OUR JUDGE. HOW WE THANK GOD FOR ALL OF THIS. IT IS HE WHO MAKES US VICTORIOUS THROUGH JESUS CHRIST OUR LORD.
For LindaMarie's Easter Inspirations Contest
Copyright © Judy Ball
What a sad day
No more Easter bunny
I don't mean to laugh
But some tales are funny
I think in the end
It's really his fault
you would never guess
Who was locked in his vault
The bunny was Jealous
Of jolly old Saint Nick
He felt like second fiddle
To a jolly white haired prick
So when the vault door opened
He pushed old Nick inside
He thought to himself
I'll take his sleigh for a ride
Before he got going
He loaded eggs in the back
Each one carefully packed
In poor Santa's red sack
On Donner on Blitzen
They flew up in the sky
An inexperienced flyer
Is now a very dead guy
His tiny bunny body
Was bounced out from the sled
Rudolph tossed him out
So now the Bunny's dead
March 9th, 2013
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux
‘ ‘’’’’’’’’’ ‘ ‘
Weighing scale breaks for a gal too plump
Nibbling chocolates instead of carrot sticks,
“I want to be a model, why is life such a dump?”
So off to the gym she heads for a quick fix, fix!
Her waist still a round 31- inches after months
Of high fatty food she can’t scratch on her note,
Auditions call, she’s craving to fit into slim pants
With more Easter honey making her bloat, bloat
She meets a retired, old magician who can nail it
At last, curved figure she’ll have without big tummy,
Swoosh! He pulls her from wrapped cage like a rabbit
And swirls, turning poor gal into a fake Playboy bunny!
For Carol Brown’s Bunny Rabbit by nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud
there it lies on the Bunny trail
a chalked outline of the victim
Easter Bunny dead plans derail
who did this is it Tiny Tim?
Copyright © Robert Heemstra
What happens after Easter?
Does Jesus go away?
And does He only rise again,
on resurrection Day?
The answer to these questions,
Jesus wants to share with you.
He's been knocking on your door.
But the decision is up to you.
Copyright © Darlene Gifford
Like He who stood upon the hillside
Would crush the small ripe and garnered seed pods
With thinking fingers, and thinking eyes
And study in his palm the ways of God
I will go where words fall true and fair
Looking for Him wherever I can find Him
How shall I know if my view is clear
Or if my self indulgence cloaks my insight dim?
Stones of self indulgence must roll away
From the self that I might become
Stones of self-concern, or of apathy
Must be crushed from pebbles to crumbs
Wherever these stones of me are made uneasy
From deep places, if pushed away today
Happiness and peace will reside within me
With every stone of dark that rolls away
For John Freeman's Contest
Copyright © Carrie Richards
There once was a gray cottontail rabbit.
All of her brothers and sisters were brown.
The gray one, named Suzie, had a habit.
She would hide when the family went to town.
One Sunday they were on their way to church.
All the brothers were clean with white pressed shirts.
But Suzie did her brand new dress besmirch.
Chocolate and yummy nutty filberts -
Come now, my sweet bunnies their mom did call.
It's Easter Sunday, let's be of good cheer.
The babies ran to mom who counted all.
A perfect celebration please, this year.
But they panicked when they found Suzie gone.
Once again, they went searching everywhere.
They saw Suzie's tail, a pink bow thereon.
She was hopping to a basket with flare!
“Come here, now, Susie rabbit.” Mother called.
But inside the basket were colored eggs.
Thus, Suzie had become very enthralled.
About then Suzie felt some hairy legs.
Giant bunny put his eggs on the ground.
When he saw her, he jumped back pretty quick.
All the while, Mother called her with a frown.
I must be brave, she thought, in a panic.
Her whole family swiftly hopped to her side.
But Easter Bunny picked Suzie up fast.
He stood straight tall with two feet far astride.
Wide-eyed, terrified, Suzie shrieked aghast.
Easter Bunny held Suzie in his lap.
I heard that you hide when you go to town.
You must stop or ensue an evil trap.
Then he hugged her and set sweet Suzie down.
Her mother, brothers, and sisters all sighed.
Alas they were together once again.
They hugged her and loved her; everyone cried.
Then, took Easter eggs to the preacher, Ken.
© February 28, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
The Easter Bunny left some eggs.
Hard hollow chocolate sweets.
A wicker basket holding them
still packaged bright and neat.
The tallest treat a solid bunny.
The basket handle touching.
Two hundred grams of gnawing fat
below the handle crouching.
A nest of shreded tissue paper
holding all things in.
Enough to make you fatten
when you'd rather you were thin.
Your basket coloured purple
suited for an Easter Spring.
The feeling spirits risen
more than chocolate candies bring.
Copyright © Trevor McLeod
There was a king who invited Artists to sketch the exact hand of Jesus so he can hung it in His palace
One of them depicted a Jesus with an Animal looking hand
Another depicted that He had the Square or the working hand
One of the Artists depicted that Jesus had a skillful hand
Another established that the Savior had the Philosophical hand
The final Artist sketched a Jesus with a Plane hand
The king wasn’t thrill by all the art works, so he never signed it. Why?
Because none of the sketched hands reflected the crucifixion of Jesus.
Hand’s which once held nails and wood
Now being held by nails and wood
Battered and tattered hands
The hands of a village Carpenter
He nailed splinters and carved timbers
He gripped lumbers with his bare-fisted fingers
In an age without gloves and hand creams
In an age without sunscreen lotions
A Village Carpenter hands, God’s chosen Son
Hands that labored under the harsh eastern sun
Hands that raised houses and erected buildings
Hands that fashioned furniture and repaired kids’ toys
Hands that broke bread and fed multitudes
Is now being broken to feed multitudes
These were the hands that fed the poor
These were the hands that healed the sick
These were the hands that made the sea and the fish
These were the hands that took bread and dipped it in a dish
And gave it to Judas as a gesture of deep love and affection
Here was the bread of life Himself, the Son of the living God
These were the hands that framed the stars and the skies
These were the hands that opened the blind man’s eyes
These were the hands that loosed the cold hand of death
These were the hands that disarmed powers of darkness
These were the hands that washed the disciple’s feet
These were the hands that cleansed lepers in the street
Oh gentle hands! Never slapping another back
Oh lovely hands! Never touching too roughly
These hands that bore scars that no lotion could heal
These are the hands of Jesus, so powerful and so real
These are the hands that convey love, so lovely
Oh! What a powerful hands! Oh what a lovely hands
Copyright © Gideon Foli
You allowed Judas to kiss your cheek and turn you in.
Knowing that with his kiss the hour of your death would begin.
Those who once praised your name now with anger shout
To crucify the man who uses the devil to cast demons out.
In front of the same crowd they whipped you until near killed.
Now because of your stripes I AM HEALED.
After all that you managed to carry the cross of OUR burdens on your back.
Only you knew that turning from sin would be a strength my soul would lack.
With a crown of thorns and three nails you hung naked on the cross.
From on High you asked GOD to forgive your lost.
As the crowd started to leave you announced that it was done.
At that moment they realized they had killed the one.
But a poor peasant carpenter is a King sent by GOD? How could that be?
It is because you opened your arms wide and showed your rather DIE than LIVE without me.
Now like a FATHER coming Home you are calling to your Children
saying "I'm willing to forget and forgive. Confess all sins."
"It is time to crucify the flesh and take up your cross."
"I have been here the whole time. You were NEVER LOST."
"When times got rough you chose to go at it alone."
"Now that you have learned...WELCOME HOME!"
Copyright © Christina Hons
THAT AIN’T NO EASTER BASKET
With any luck at all I will be dying soon
Yet none of my friends or relatives will be crying soon
But hopefully I’ll be encased eternally in a grand casket
So I’ll be well adorned when I reach Hell to which I’m headed in a hand basket
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE……~free cee!~
Copyright © jeffry cohan
Meaningful night, to him, a last
Take a moment and reflect
At this time in the past
What was found and what was lost
Copyright © Michael Quinn
BETWEEN A KNOCK AND A HARD PLACE
Where is she?
She was with me yesterday?
Where could she be?
To find my lover a fortune I would pay
The last thing I saw her doing was preparing a meal
She diced the carrots, sliced the onions, and added some spice
Her being missing like this just doesn’t seem real
But sometimes a sinner has to pay the pious their price
The cost they were asking was absurd at best
Yet I’d give them diamonds and other gems
I beg thee god of love don’t put me through this test
Because a wounded heart is from where my sorrow stems
It’s too quiet in here without her casual and common comment
Wait now, I hear a knock on the door, but my lady has the key
There stood a man I didn’t know who said “here’s a notefrom a pretty lady sent”
And all it said was she has needs to fulfill and simply signed it “me”
© 2010.….free cee!
Copyright © jeffry cohan