Religious Spring Poems | Religious Poems About Spring
These Religious Spring poems are examples of Religious poems about Spring. These are the best examples of Religious Spring poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.
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
Copyright © tara jennings
Mother Mary appeared 18 times
Young woman Bernadette Soubirous
Announcing: “I am the Immaculate Conception”
Mother Mary helped Bernadette
Discover a hidden spring of grotto
That Spring was soon to become
Fountain of faith, hope
Healing for millions of pilgrims
Lourdes, truly a place of healing
Church recognizes 66 miraculous cures there
Thousands more have been reported
Lourdes a place they found peace
In coming to understand
Accept Eternal God’s will for them
To all who are sick in body and spirit
The Lord brings hope
Comfort through Our Lady of Lourdes
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza
~ Where should I start this poetic trace? ~
Supple summer, season scene
Takes off coats and welcome warmth
And tranquil under soften sky.
Spring 'O' Spring precedence over summer...
Summer host long light evenings,
Carol patterns and seldom pit-a-pat.
Fertile season, holder of juicy jubilee
Easter burners' night, palm Sunday pedestrian...
And good Friday chorus.
March-to-October, love you so much.
~ Hope I am not missing out? ~
Dedicated to the lover of the above poetic summer season.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole
With each stone,
A certain size,
A distinct color,
Water flows gracefully
Over each backbone of the brook.
Along the brook,
The water is pristine,
Yet calm and quiet,
Rolling over stones
And pebbles, the water streams into
A natural spring.
The spring dwells
Offering life after passing.
Copyright © Sarah Cassleman