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Social Easter Poems | Social Poems About Easter

These Social Easter poems are examples of Social poems about Easter. These are the best examples of Social Easter poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Light Poetry | |


I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.

Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Acrostic | |


Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children

Copyright © Amy Rose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic | |


Earths people, it is time to wake up, the ‘Prince’ is alive! 
Ascension available, access through your heart 
Seek and you shall find! 
Time is short, personally unite, connect as one
Eternity given
Rise to the occasion, celebrate the gift of life, bond, with ‘our lord Jesus’ and ‘our Universal Father in heaven, building a bridge, experiencing kinship, between human and spirit

                     ***Happy Easter Everyone***

Copyright © Amy Rose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The True Meaning Of Easter

The True Meaning of Easter

The true meaning of
the Easter story,
Is God’s Son came down
to Earth from glory.

Jesus really does
love you and me.
He was born to die 
that you might be free.

For 33 years, he lived
among sinful men.
Then one day was to be
an atonement for our sin.

He who was born of the
virgin Mary’s womb.
Was to one day rise again
from an empty tomb.

So many people have
gotten into a habit,
of replacing Jesus
with the bunny rabbit.

So please reach out to others
and let them know,
Of the lover and redeemer
of their soul.

The true meaning of Easter
must forever be said.
Of God’s son who died,
but arose from the dead!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? | |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,


Enduring the whispers of time,
through creeds professed,
sermons preached,
and a million sins confessed.


the essence,
of these banished revolutionaries,
is ceremonially muted by ritual,
and gleefully crushed under,
grandiose edifices,
that serve Religion Inc.

"And the meek shall inherit the earth",
an incendiary thought,
conveniently discarded,
for the pie in the sky that must be sought.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
whispers still,
for us to hear,
through the din of the cacophony of prayer.


The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
each day that we choose,
to shun the meek,
and mouth conscience-salving prayers,

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |


Rumours spreading ink 
          Blots on a character,
Insidiously virus like, 
          Duplicating cells,
Touching and impregnating 
          Once lucid beliefs
With embryo taints and 
          Darker schema.
“So, that’s him, there he is
          That’s what he did, 
Let’s hear more;”
          Truth warped out of shape,
A shifting balloon of 
          Malleable bad blood,
Twisted beyond all 
          Former recognition.
Poison pen Chinese whispers 
          Uttered, scratched,
Scrawled, trickled asides, 
          Poured and decanted
Into the ears of those dupes 
          Susceptible enough and lazy enough, 
Evil enough
          To propagate the lies.
If said enough times, 
          It becomes tangible, factual,
A construct of the real world.
          Initially I trod 
Upon an ant,
          By Easter 
I killed Jesus;
          By Christmas, guess
I’ll hang for it…

Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse | |

Easter 1963

Every fragile flower
Weaves a different sense of power
But the old gardener 
His hands and fingers soil stained
Wears the same disguise
Over his disdain for the poor and trodden mass
The beleagured hair in relentless hands
The squirming bodies bruised and broken
The trying cross of love despised
They gathered the ignorant and stygmatized
And while sun glinted on shiny coffles
The wine cup is poured
To feast the figment of a frazzled mind.

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Easter Sundry

Easter Sundry 
Easter Sundry 
  Easter Sundry 
For the 16 0f april Easter Sunday 

Ties and coats, dresses and hats, 
oh brother, where does he think 
he is going like that, dirty and 
homeless carrying his stuff. 
Does he not knoe it is Easter? 
We are all gussied up, our money 
in hand, ready to preen and to 
prance.Where did he think he was going? 
To Church like that, all dirty and poor? 
Not next to me and my family. 
We are the members of our community. 
We are Ties and coats, dresses and hats. 
We are ready for Easter. 
Homeless is not to be seen. 
Homeless is not to be found. 
We do not want the old homeless around. 
Does he not knoe it is Easter. 

Charles Robert Hice 

Copyright ©2006 Charles Robert Hice 

Charles Hice 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2006