These Easter Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Easter. These are the best examples of Easter Prose Poetry poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Does anyone have an Easter chick?
We have four, a rooster and three hens
Named Junior, nugget, chirpy and twin
These bitties love to snuggle and watch TV
They have taken me for their mom
The rooster likes to be a daredevil
He will run right up to the dog and tempt his fate
The KFC commercials make them cry!
Friday had been the saddest day
That my young life had ever known
The loneliness that my heart felt
Just would not leave me alone
The clouds that filled the afternoon
With their darkness and their dread
Left remorseful feelings alive inside
Along with feelings that seemed so dead
On Saturday when I did awaken
My world was much worse it seemed
For the gloom and darkness it embraced
Left my mind aloof in sad daydreams
Of what my eyes had seen to transpire
On that dark, cold Friday afternoon
I only prayed and hope what was written
Would come to fruition so very soon
As the last twenty four hours ticked away
The hope in my heart did begin to rise
For it began to beat so steady again
Waiting for the prophesied moment to arrive
But many in the room praying around me
Saw their faith begin to slip and fade
Not believing that what was happening
Would be much more than just another day
My heart awaiting the time to come closer
Anticipating the joy it would soon receive
Felt the rhythms of the approaching moment
For deep within it never failed to believe
I heard the most beautiful enchanting melodies
Embracing me from deep within His tomb
And upon hearing the hearty voices of angels
I sensed He would be rising so very soon
And the last twenty four hours did finally end
Sweeping my sadness and loneliness away
Replacing it with pure joy, and happiness
For He rose from the grave on a perfect day.
This is mye Easter Sunday. This is the LORD Jesus Christ is Risen day and EGG day and
Bunny day all rolled into a dry mourning in the homeless sack. A religious holiday day.
Today eye found the secret of creation there is color added just to stones the rocks around
us there is JESUS shades of blood permeating the stratus zones around us. Some quartz
near eye today was strangley coloured in the mourning light some almost purple some dark
red some a lighter almost white but gray slate is almost pink in early desert light. Perhaps it
was just a fancy for eye was looking for delight in such a small desert spaced out place a
mosaic there of the SON of GOD uncovered now for all the world to read about in EGGPoem
thrice. Happy Easter Ewe on this wonderful Easter Sunday Sunrise penned in Notebook for
Easter Egg Thrice.
There she is, rainbow hued, hazy viewed clues.
The whistle chimed waves clear her unspoken throat.
Pardon Lady's wispy tension, a molder of falling sand.
A maker of details form the reality of dreamlife.
It is not man-made, it's spirit.
From one withheld, on a roof full of heating.
It's the heart vision, it's her only heart vision,
The only seer of the whole.
The sea dragon's bucket of snails
make it through the tunnel portal,
and we all gather through.
There Lady then goes,
off to the Wizard's shell. He's cloaked in
red and white, the colors of woman and man.
They're both pleading, seething,
kneeling beside the shelled faces.
Sparks, that near cover her wreathed, flowered, dress of sea flowers.
As iridescent pyramid easter eggs rain down.
Armored in bright lace, the rhythms of twirls and braids shall
claim pertinence to the deep blue whale's song, the whale clothed
in water, salt, and Lady's most hidden dreams.
A Wizard Whale's Lady, protected with beauty.
Zero point with no ego, no confession to claim.
The breathed memory between her salty fingers
lights a candle to rebirth her soul.
Hello my little fellow,
long lost pearly weeping willow,
I've come to find my ocean.
My voice adorned with sight.
I flew to and from her, a maker of undone.
She was veiled in white memory,
a blanket of weight brushed off her.
A flaming moment floating in her watery hoping heart.
Sunk under sun drenched waters,
gazed shackles flew away.
Exceeding through three door frames,
not separate from the grey portrait of a sculpture.
Tightly knit and finely tuned,
with heavy chisels of confirmation.
I will spit if I have to, and then I will cry after.
For I will only listen to my bloody heart.
The emotions are blatant, the tuned in
question that purge's forth,
is more meaningful with an identity gone.
But we are never lost,
we are dreaming in the ocean's Wingdom,
the Angel's castle cloud held tight.
Eye came unhurriedly into the Ronstadt center walking unhurriedly for it is a Sunday
Schedule on the Bus Sun Tran couple this with Easter and a holiday to boot upon the land of
this renewed AmeriCa, may GOD in Jesus help mee eye forgive her; When to mye surprise
delight a happy Easter eye surprised the EGG just laying there forlorn and forgotten from the
Basket on a ledge where bus patrons sit and Gather dust just waiting for the buss there it
was boiled and purple colored Easter Egg with White left interspaced and looking closely eye
discovered some spattered mottley colors there none of them a primary some EGG childe
artiste had created this created creation just for eye to find so eye peeled it carefully of shell
but some color still remained on EGG transporting me back home to MOTHER and to Yard
again while eating EGG a man now eye took half of it away with just one bite while eyeing
yellow yolk inside a smile then one more bite egg was gone a swallow a lifetime
remembered happy childhood was revisited all in one short moment of an Easter Sunday
Suntran Bus day. On this mye Easter Sunday.
For EWE Easter Sunday
IN a series of three egg poems it stormed. It rained ICE into the desert there is still ICE
there on the hill side in mye distance the stuff pelted my covers all night forcing me into a
fighting crouch to stay alive eye resembled nothing lest except a baby falcone inside her egg
before She hatches eye waited for the daylight coming trying to accept the fate of all
homeless people when then the sun arose all around me long enought to let me dry mye
things before putting toys away when the falcone come she sat her distance preening drying
feathers twisting head just giving me theye theye theye she turns her head this way and that
sort of drinking eye with heart and sight so nice it was to see mye falcone scrye. It cleaned
mye heart of hate and once again renewed eye faced this Easter Sunday day. Iff this were
not enought an added ancedoted ed.note.ed see charlaxfabels the falcon cry fable number
one then continue on to egg poem too and thence to number three or egg poem thrice.
Everytime I bring forth your image
From deep within the well of my mind
My heart begins shedding joyous tears
For your beautiful love that's mine
I can never escape feeling all the emotions
For they seem to overwhelm me each day
But just like the very first time I embraced you
The raging passion of my love will always stay
I was blessed the day you embraced me
That first moment you became my friend
And ever since your spirit held me close
My life changed as I was truly born again
You have never forsaken me a single day
Of the spiritual things which in life I need
And I love those very special moments
When your living word we together read
While I lift up my song of sweet love to you
Your daily showers of heaven's joy begins
I humbly thank you for giving your life's blood
A perfect Easter sacrifice to forgive all our sins.
They took him from the crowd apart and nailed HIM both hands and feet unto the
instrument of torture the cross of Golgotha complete the scriptures had prophecy
concerning this event to complete the salvation of all of man. The LORD of all
creation hung and suffered ridicule and thirst and hunger of a different sort for
Heaven he was thirsty then. They cast lots upon his garment.
The prayers were hardly out left far behind when eye began to reap the benefits
of health improved my finances of wealth increase can be explained away by
fools but ewe we knoe the truth for JESUS gives. My target Heaven my wealth
health and all my food my found and scrounged and Easter egged 2 all come
forth from HIM. A Poor and sinfilled man quite given to the drink may lie and steal
and say he found it near his drink he “assumes someone has left it there” is
what he barks at the beertender the drunk outside may soon die from his
concussions the man left near the bathroom door he took a wooden batted
thatch knocked upon the drunken noggin put the man all out took from him his
wealthy purse to pay just for one more night out seeking oblivion again to drink
perchance to dream the detectives came to task the man for overall complaints
the thief he muttered “HOW? did you know that it was me ,yes? HOW?” Detective
Fabel was on the case he was pushing by the place the alleyway and heard the
cricket paddle whack the commoner went down he is bound to get better now in
the hospice we have found for him but you will only get worse in the old
hoosegow. The old banded man in the alleyway digging in the trash can has
more hope than you as they take the thief away the scrounger finds a basket full
of boiled eggs left there an Easter 2 colored all purple and white inside the
yellow yolk looking like a big surprise the color of a dandylion sunrise.
this is a picture of an actual Kingdom Hall
Ode to Edgar A Poe
Ode to be remembered with three red roses and a half a blanc of wine the
certainty of summer in Ravenswood combines with sultry summer pines and
odors of the firmament decay to play a mournful tune of odious deliverance. How
can such playful creatures of this life become so dark at night time coming to the
Earth to preach a GOD of everyone of Earth to say this world is pleasant when
poor Edgar knoes it's not? He never seems to want for sympathy a poor man's
plot is seldom visited the visitor is not out a lot the roses at three p the half a
magnum drank he stank he must say some words at grave like Quote the Raven
Eleanor never more have a drink old plank would anyone come and leave a half
of soda and three small purple flowers on my grave? But reminisce about the
meeting done they grabbed me by both arms but not before my head was
pressed against the glass of double doors and tossed hurriedly away outside
don't listen to the homeless one he stinks he sleeps in clothes unwashed how
can anyone like that can knoe his GOD? Then eye turned a swollen eye upon the
meeting place and did a little dance a little prancing just in place and cried Jesus
hallelujah yes they threw me out of judgment hall please bless the place eye
dance. Poor Edgar cannot prance. CharlaX loves his stance. Half a soda and
three purple flowers every Easter on a poor place to stay someone reading this
may do so to remember me this poet needs to be.
Young ladies in their pastel Easter dresses pooffed out with crinolins dancing in the Eastern
Sky on this early Sunday morn added a aura of cold to the frosted grass in the pasture. The
sun was brought up by the constant crowing of the roosters across the creek. Their necks
must have been stretched to their full extent for it to be possible to produce all that powerful
sound and bring such color to the morning sky...