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Easter Religious Poems | Religious Poems About Easter

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

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Details | Narrative |

Mary Magdalene

One summer eve in Galilee
I stood before my open door;
To me it seemed just one more night--
Like all the others gone before.
Someone would come and, passing by,
Would hear the tinkling of the bells,
Would see the garish harlot's robe
And painted eyes beneath my veil.
Someone, a man like all the rest--
It did not matter much to me--
A nobleman, Samaritan,
A Roman or a Pharisee,
Someone would pause and with one glance
Strip me again of maiden pride,
And leaving, later, never know
The shame and shattered dreams I hide.
O, he would think me very gay;
He would not see my hollow heart
Nor hear me curse him for his pay.
T was then I saw a band of men
Approaching down the narrow road;
There should be one among that crowd
Who wants the favors I bestow.
Kind eyes met mine, and with one look,
He saw what others could not see;
He saw the hunger of my soul,
My loneliness and misery.

I only know that since that day
I live to walk along with Him.
His look of love has changed my life;
I need not sell my love again.
Tonight He sups at Simon's house__
All day the dusty paths we roamed;
But, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed;
Small courtesies no one has shown.
My love for Him! It rolls and swells
Till from His side I cannot stay;
I'll wash His feet with tears of love
And with my hair wipe them away.


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 today have gotten into a bad 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


Details | Lyric |

I Wonder

I wonder what the people thought
Who did not know the prisoner's name;
So many men had staggered by
In public solitude and shame,
What was He more than other men
Who'd walked outside the walls to die,
And those with tears who followed Him--
Do not most dead leave some who cry?

I wonder what the children thought,
Who just a few short days before
Had waved palm branches in the street,
Crying, "Hosanna, to the Lord!"
Why was the kindest man they knew,
Who understood their ways and needs,
Bearing a cross through Jerusalem
Like those who did unrighteous deeds.

I wonder what the soldiers thought
Who rudely mocked a silent king;
How many flogged and tortured so
Had never spoken anything?
Was only one of all who stood 
On guard for Rome to watch Him die 
Able to say with contrite heart,
"This is God's Son; He did not lie."

I wonder what the women thought,
The ones who would not hide in fear
But followed even to the cross
To watch him die through veils of tears.
Did they not know that He could take
Their dreams safely through death with Him
And on the third day rise again
Triumphant over death and sin.

I wonder what we would have thought
In our self-righteous ignorance;
What role would you or I have played,
If we had known such circumstance?
Would I have been a Pharisee,
Or just a stranger passing by,
Herod, Pilate, a Roman guard,
Or a Mary on the day Christ died?


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 | Rhyme |

What Easter Means to Me

What Easter Means to Me! I think about what Easter means to me. There’s message that I hope you’ll see. There is a truth, a purpose for believing. But too often, it’s lost it’s true meaning! In this society, there tends to be a habit. Of comparing Easter with the bunny rabbit. There’s chocolate, candy and eggs in the store. As people come back, looking for more. There’s a message of God he wants to tell you. A message a life. Don’t let others fool you! A new life in Jesus, can be yours for the asking. An abundance of HIS love and life everlasting! HE is alive! He arose from the dead! His message of life eternal will forever be said! His gifts of love and mercy is for all to receive. He stands at your hearts door. Won’t you believe? What Easter means, is that Jesus is risen! This day… You can be cleansed and forgiven! Won’t you allow HIS message to touch your soul? The risen Jesus can make you whole! Let’s proclaim God’s message and make it clear! Jesus Christ is alive today! He is right HERE! The tomb is empty! The stone is rolled away! This is God’s time! The Lord’s resurrection day! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Narrative |

The Carpenter

The Galilean sun smiled down
Upon the dusty little town
And lingered o'er one humble spot,
A peasant's home and modest shop.
Long shafts of light fell 'cross the door
To lay bright carpets on the floor
Where children played in perfect peace
About the shop. Their joy increased
Each time they caught a glimpse of Him,
The carpenter who worked within.

His face was gentle, eyes were kind;
And  as He worked, He did not mind
Their ceaseless chatter, endless play
Nor did He find them in His way.
Their laughter rippled round the room;
They scattered sawdust with a broom.
The woodchips falling at His feet
Became for them a fishing fleet
Or beds and chairs for little dolls,
A manger or a cattle stall.

Surrounded by the commonplace;
And yet, uncommon was the grace
With which He faced each daily task
As if all Heav'n lay in His grasp.
A carpenter He was by trade;
The wood responded, unafraid.
Beneath His hands each piece was formed
Into an object to perform
Some deed of usefulness or skill,
The needs of men to fitly fill.

Precise He was in all His craft
From oxen yoke to shepherd's staff
To couches for a nobleman;
He was a careful artisan.
Each part was polished, sanded, ground;
No painful splinters could be found
To pierce the flesh of those who bought
The items fashioned in His ship.
There wood was sacrificed for man
Beneath its own Creator's hands.

Does it seem strange that He would die,
Suspended between earth and sky,
Upon two rugged beams of wood,
This carpenter whose work was good?


Details | Rhyme |

The Blood Of JESUS

The Blood of Jesus saved my soul
The Blood of Jesus
Made me whole.

The Blood of Jesus is
The means by which
I have become truly Rich.
I speak not of mere material things
But the Hope of Glory which it brings.

As we think of His Blood,
Let us not forget the Man,
Nor fail to realize that He has 
A Master Plan.

For us He has made the Ultimate Sacrifice,
And now, it is only fair for us to give him
Our lives.

There really is no doubt about it,
He is in control,
And He also has the power
To make you whole.

So won’t you seek him out
Today?
He is sure to set your life
On the upward way.


Details | I do not know? |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,

Buddha, 
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

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

Though,

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,
stings.
stabs,
whispers still,
for us to hear,
through the din of the cacophony of prayer.

Buddha,
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

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

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.


Details | Lyric |

Quiet

Moments of quiet unfolding:
Quiet probing my spirit's depths, 
Like a rose, petals unfolding
To drink in the dawn's sweet breath.
Quiet like the peace that lingered
O're the waters the Master stilled;
Quiet that in the tomb trembled,
Pregnant, waiting to be fulfilled.
Quiet that marched on the victor
Robbing death and defeating sin;
Quiet that stood in the garden
And shouted, "Christ risen again!"
Quiet that is the cloak wrapping
God the Father, Spirit and Son,
Before whom life's vulgar turmoil
Surrenders her tongue and is dumb.


Details | Haiku |

Easter Joy

Dance a little dance!
Christ is alive! Easter’s here!
Shed some joyful tears!


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