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Easter Lost Love Poems | Lost Love Poems About Easter

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

Details | Free verse |

Three days Saved

It's been nine years, I have counted the tears-
  they have made trails of guilt
  worried into my heart 
  then filled with loneliness and bitter despair
but by your grace I have been shown...

For the first time, in these nine years, I have not wept
  nor held a vigil to honor our grief
though the loss still burns, this time it is transformed

Peace from your love still reaches through death
  and through your eternal love I am reborn
  
 It is Good Friday. 
When God took your spirit home
  and left me dying to know,
  how to love him for his sacrifice
  when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?

Through your love I was born, and in your arms I grew
 and it has been your love the kept me whole
 that taught me how to be reborn
    for even though your body has gone
    your words lost in the wind and breath no more
The essence of grace and strength you lived
- it grows still in your daughter soul

My being and existence came from your womb
  my heart and mind shaped by your enlightenment
I have lived a life you gave me and for once
   I live it in pride to honor your sacrifice
your words giving me the guidance I'd lost nine years ago.

Alas, I've come to know, that as you died
  and went home with our Lord, you saved me from my death
not in your dying, my grief and love can attest,
    but in your living strength and loving example
       you showed me how to live a life
             open to our Father's gift

We knew it would not wait, but the parting was too fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
   what of my soul will rise with his?"

And now sitting Easter morning, 
  holding my sons candy-filled basket,
I realized Three days passed.

  He took you home Friday morn, but left me love,
that eternal love that never dies
whose comfort is unending

I honor your love by giving it to my children
         and Easter morning I felt your hug, your kiss, and knew 
                                 you have never left me
.
Though God took you home Mom
I know you have never left me
for as our Savior died and rose
you too still live in my heart, 
showing me proof our Father's blessings

    because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am strong enough to give this pain up 
       to honor his sacrifice and transcend,
           to be humbled by the grace and mercy
          that could forgive such lost lambs as I


Details | Free verse |

Three Days Hence

It's been seven years, I almost forgot-
not this day: but the distance we've climbed.
I couldn't remember my age, because it correlates
to years we've been apart.

I forgot to be apprehensive, this time it was sneaky.
It waited for the first happy holiday wishing
from some idiot to remind me.
   It was Good Friday. 
When God took your spirit home
and left me dying to know,
how to love him for his sacrifice
when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?

I blasphemy, I know, but you loved him more
in sight of you that graceful place grows
pale in and foreign in mine eye.

Alas, I fail the test, I could not be as strong as you.

We knew it would not wait, but the parting was still to fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
what of my soul will rise with his?"

And sitting easter morning, 
  holding some idiots well wished basket,
I realised Three days passed.
  He took you home and left me lost on Friday morn,
I wailed my loss through Saturdays more,
         and Easter morning I felt your last hug, your kiss good bye.

I cursed my self for asking, if my soul would rise with his,
    because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am not strong enough to give this pain up 
       to honor his sacrifice and transcend, I sit still lost and wonder:

I believe and I love, but I don't know how to rise
I don't now how to live again. 
Faith crushed I don't think I can trust.
I am the shell of your grace trying once more 
to live in the love that failed me, as I failed the gift of his sacrifice.


Details | I do not know? |

Hollow

I burned my hand 
on the stove again
longing for it's heat
thinking it a friend
But instead it scars
Instead it burns
Sucking my oxygen
It seems I'll never learn
Like a moth to light
Tricked by it's beauty
flickering and bright
It feels so warm 
it lures me in
I long to meld into it
to peel of this skin
A chocolate Easter bunny 
Just waiting to melt
Destined to desire
This fire I felt.


Details | I do not know? |

lost

It was a cloudy Easter Sunday.

I went over to my grandmother's house for dinner.
 
We were getting ready to set the table. 

When she told me to get the champaign glasses ready.

As I reached into the cupboard. 

0ne glass missed my grip falling to the floor.

Hundreds of glass shard covered the floor.

It was the same champaign glass that I 

used on my sweet 16.

The sweet 16 that made me realized that I lost my father.

The shattered pieces of glass reminded me of the day.

The day he broke my heart.

I remembered promises which were never kept and trust broken.

Like the glass I was looking at now.

He told me he would come.

Come to my sweet 16, PTA 

meetings,graduation and prom.

He never did,leaving me to wonder.

What was more important than his little girl?

I never found an answer.

I began to collect the pieces.

As I lifted them from the ground.

I cut my finger and a small drop of blood appeared. 

The pain was sharp. 

And as I looked at the cut I understood.

It was like the pain that my father caused.

It was unpleasant.

But fleeting and it would heal if I gave it some time.

Leaving nothing but a faint scar.

I collected the pieces and threw them out.

As I looked for the last time at the glass.

The glass that symbolized my coming into maturity,

I thought that my father missed out on the good things.

The good things that happened to me in my life.

And as I closed the garbage pail.

I thought that it doesn't matter anymore.

He lost.... He lost a relationship he can never recapture.








Details | Free verse |

Something Even Worse

It's easy to cry in your beer
About being alone on Easter day
You feel cheated out of family
And though in fact that is sad

You could be much worse off
It could be something much 
more,
A thing that has turned ever so bad

You could be stuck with someone
you do not love...
Someone you can not stand...
But stuck you are,
And stuck you'll be
As if you've found you have
a tightly tied hand

That is worse,
Let's hope it's not you
Cause you'll wonder how,
Or, why, and surely what to do...


Details | Rhyme |

An Easter Kiss

I wish that you a Happy Easter in person.
I hope that you are okay.
I still love you in a special way.

I wish that I could give you an Easter kiss.
I really hope that you are thinking of me.
If you were here, 

I would have on my bunny ears.
Giving blessings of love, kisses, hugs, 
And caressing your carrot,

Even though this time I know,
 You are once again getting married.
I’m blowing you a kiss.

I am sure that it will reach you
Again Happy Easter from me
I love you and you’re the only man,

That I’m thinking of other than God.
I thank Him for the time I spent with you,
I pray that He will send you back to me,
So that we can share more precious memories.

wrote  3-23-08




Details | Blank verse |

Loss Of The Love Object

It is gone forever now, a swirling mote of dust, 
  above the hills and fields, memorial fleck of dying love, 
vanishing from tear swept sight, away from the world, 
  oh how can life continue now, how can it go on? 

In cruel desolation, such cold, numb emptiness 
  where scalpel sharp pain wields a wafer thin blade 
daily drawn, lacerating nervous tissue and nuances of emotion, 
  slow, meticulous, precise, a living thing this pain.

Silvery and honed to savour each slash and each nick 
  with the sick sadist glee of a diligent torturer; 
tears cannot be cried anymore, dried out now, Winter cold, 
  desert arid and Easter Egg hollow, a screaming skull inverted. 

Bleeding dry, bleeding dry, a pale anaemic husk; 
  eyes look but do not register the living world, 
fingers touch but do not feel the pulse of regrowth, 
  ears listen but do not hear the words to set things right.

One of the almost dead who envies the truly dead, 
  the truly dead for their interment to inanimate peace, 
for where will my love find the object to lavish itself upon, 
  who will hold me now as one who did before? 

No courage at all, only the curse of the craven to endure, 
  less than surreal, no longer human, nothing outwardly tangible 
save a mass of screaming, electrifying pain 
  howling down the empty corridors running beneath the flesh. 

The hardest of hard lessons are learned and learned so well, 
  taught as only a past master of deranged ardour can teach; 
the loss of sanctity when expelled from the mother womb 
  is the outset of the clue to life's meaning. 

From this point forth, the love object is a thing to be lost, 
  family, friends, possessions, innocence, integrity...mind, 
eventually life itself, for all is ultimately stripped away, 
  with each love object finite and thus both fabulous and terrifying to behold.

If loss be the meaning of life, vice versa, the meaning of life be loss, 
  instilling life with it's value and fragility; 
your trauma spills indistinction, uncertainty - the loss of the love object, 
  wreaking ball on my defences - and likewise my refuge from pain...