Prose Poetry Easter Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Easter

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

The ' Hoppy Ban '

So sad..Hopping in and Out of one' s life....

It's Peter Rabbit for Pete's" sake...

He comes by each and every year...

For this they say we should fear ?

Just to share a Spring holiday ?...

He's a horrid creature, so they say...

He has big ears and a cotton tail...

And sometimes he even carries a pail..

Full of candy, and colorful decorated eggs...

This day is between Valentine hearts , and Green Beer kegs....

He's rarely ever seen...

And has never ever been mean...

So why are all these American States...

Having all these holiday debates ?..

I await my basket filled with a chocolate kiss..

I only hope his picture does not end up on...

The Post Office " 10 most wanted list "...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

This Perfect Day

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.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Poem For You

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.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Day The Stone Cried Out

The stones were silent on that day when Jesus rode to town
While cries of loud hosannas came from people all around.
Some said that they should hold their peace and tried to still their voice,
But Jesus said if they would stop, the rocks would then rejoice.
But these were not the stones God chose to lift their voice to praise,
And so the voices of the crowd continued to be raised.
Then soon this happy crowd became a mocking crowd that cried,
“Away with Him!  Away with Him!  Let Him be crucified!”
He trudged along a stony street, the heavy cross He bore,
His body bleeding from the wounds and crown of thorns He wore.
And these stones, too, were silent as He headed up the hill,
For they were not the ones to speak, nor was it yet God’s will.
Then darkness veiled the noonday sky there on that awful day
When Jesus was left all alone, His Father turned away.
And as He spoke those final words, an earthquake shook the ground
And some were raised to life again from gravesides all around.
The restless rocks so wanted then to speak with their voice,
But they, too, then were quickly hushed, for they were not God’s choice.
They took the Savior from the cross unto a borrowed tomb,
They placed a stone to keep Him there and all seemed full of gloom.
This was a stone nobody thought would ever speak a word,
But after three days with a shout its loud, clear voice was heard.
That stone so silent all those years cried out upon that day
As with a thunder on the ground it loudly rolled away!
That was the stone that God had chose to cry to everyone
They could not keep that body there--He was God’s victorious Son!
That stone cried out that glorious morn, it still cries out today,
“The sting of death, the curse of sin is taken all away!”
That stone speaks of the one who died and went to hell for me
And conquered Satan and his foes and now He holds the keys!
That stone still cries to you today, oh listen to its voice,
Come to the Rock of Ages now--make Jesus Christ your choice!

Copyright © Clarence Billheimer | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |



King of Kings,
And Lord of Lords.
And He shall reign,
Forever and ever.

Are these not the words of Christmas?
Did Jesus lose Sovereignty after His birth?
Do we just forget this through the year,
Does the Son of God lose His worth?

The Christian Faith lives in a Person,
Not just an accepted creed.
He was born, lived, died and arose from the dead,
This is the Christianity we need.

Christ is the personal, Living Center,
Of all things we believe.
He remains the Church's Sovereign,
His resurrection saved you and me.

We know the enjoyments of this life,
The pleasures that come our way.
But the Christian belief within us,
Helps us make it through the day.

Christianity is more than a history,
Of ancient writings told.
It is the very source of truth,
That comforts when we are old.

We are different Christians than our parents,
Who lived a life so true.
They gave the love and knowledge,
That would guide and comfort you.

We are challenged to pass this message,
A belief in God and His son.
So that our children may know and learn,
He truly is the one.

This Easter is a reminder,
Of the Christmas message brought to all.
It took His Death and Resurrection,
To save us from the Fall.


Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Circle

My dear friend Happy Easter to you !
May this Easter blessed with love , joy and happiness.
With love Maxima

The Circle
Suddenly, you trembled, my darling
As if craving to turn a fluid wave
A magnificent wave that
Overwhelms the endless spaces
of our hearts
Into eternity
And, I, my dearest,
I feel pure joy
Dazzled by this feeling
The endless tender kiss
Has formed a magic circle
The source of our being
Somewhere among the stars
Of the brightest constellation
I love you

Copyright © Stefan Maxima | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Easter Egg Thrice

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.

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |

Magnificent Psalm: following the Holy Virgin Mary


Glory to this confusion: man and God
So simple, and so mysterious, a Triune Godhead!
Glory, glory, glory to our glorious God
LORD and King, Yahweh and Adonai, Elohim and El-Shaddai
We all must have, all must sing, Magnificats
Like Mary, who had heard of the LORD 
Through Gabriel, Archangel and awesome:
(Yet in her day, a teenager dare not fall pregnant)
Faith comes from hearing … and she had heard of Israel's hope and salvation, The Messiah, and when Gabriel said the name, YESHUA, God is Salvation,
Knowledge and wisdom invaded Mary's mind, then her womb

Would I be willing to speak to a man in authority over me
And let him know he will not receive my first loyalty (Less than Mary)

Luke's Gospel contrasted a literate Priest Zechariah's disbelief
And possibly the "illiterate Mary's" question of a similar kind
He was muted (He had received much; was punished for believing less?)
The Virgin Mary willed herself to be used for Israel, for her LORD …

Yet she did ask, How is this to be since I have not known
A man, Aha! “Seed of woman” dispenses
With the seed of man, for that of God
Praise to the Holy Spirit, our Comforter

LORD we magnify you, glorify thy name
We are saved by faith, that begins with hearing the WORD
We can't do enough to be good; Adam showed that
The love of Jesus makes all things that are impossible, possible,
By faith in He who died on a Cross, the cursed tree
We have become children – to become co-heirs with Jesus still -
Beyond friend, as with Abraham, where we begin
Glory to God for Abraham and his obedience
Now we have surpassing access to God and Jesus
Yet, like all freedoms, this is not free ...
Were you there when My Savior hung on a Tree?
The psalmists and the poets, the singers ... know mysteries.

(c). Anil Deo, Good Friday 2017

Copyright © Anil Deo | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |


Dear readers,
Dear Believers,
Dear Christians,
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I wish you 
A pretty  and pious
Holy Easter Time!
May the Passion, the Death and the Resurrection of
Our-Lord Jesus-Christ
Bring you a deep fit of Love, and
May also this great moment 
Give you a surge of Faith!!!

Copyright May 2014- Rita Solis Radius - Poet woman and letter-writer - Faith poem 'The Easter Rebirth'.

Copyright © Rita Solis Radius | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


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. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |

Portrait of a Water Lady and I

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.
Alyssa Couture

Copyright © Alyssa couture | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |


Christ Crucified. 
The Cross 
 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. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |


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. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |

Jehovah Witness

 Jehovah Witness 
Jehovah Witness 
this is a picture of an actual Kingdom Hall 
Fighting Jesus 
Fable Fourteenth 
 Judgment Call 
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. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |


its a prade
that don't fade
crowed streets or near
to watch

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

That Last Sabbath, An Easter Story

A different kind of rest was forthcoming.
But first, captives had to be released from
Hades and led to freedom.

But first, the bloodied and pierced radical
From Golgotha had to demand, not request,
The keys of death and of hell.

But first, the dine of demons in the devil’s banquet
In the regions beyond, had to be broken up; hell’s
party had to be reeled into a frenzy of disgust; and 
Satan’s parade had to become a shattered disappointment.

But first, as the devil and demons rocked and rolled in hell,                               the Christ of Calvary rested on Saturday’s Sabbath;                                     not home yet, but somewhere alone until Sunday.

And then!  On Resurrection Morn, hell‘s scorning ,                                           the laughter of the beast, and the mourning of saints                                    were compelled to cease!  Messiah’s new message was born.

Friday’s stone was gone!
Saturday’s rest was done!!
The Temple’s curtain was torn!!!
It was shouting time on Sunday Morn!!!!

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |



over the oceans from whence we came
amid war and random bloodshed
struggles a people as noble in name
as the men and women by which they're led

they are the Jews, and how they suffered and why
when their actions in antiquity brought salvation
had Jesus not bowed to be hung, and to die
our God would be merely a distant relation

He taught them, fed them, and gave of His heart
they argued yet listened, scoffed and still praised
then Pilate, seeking an end, made a new start
Christ was tornm from His life, and today He was raised

Easter is very much more than a rabbit with eggs
more than candy, sales, and succulent ham
the Lord died in pain amid societies dregs
crying,"Forgive them their sacrifice of this Holy Lamb!"

"For they know not, 
they only follow,
through what they have wrought
My Grace they will know."


in the Holy Land, there is hatred and fear
in darkness they search for a light
let them, and you also, know He is near
God is watching, His love burning bright

though i am only a man, born in sin
and He is far away, it often seems
i know that as of today, He lives again
not a concept, or a product iof desperate dreams

He is the Giver, the Creater, and the Defender
He is the Strength, we find when we need
He is the source, of all that's gentle and tender
through every dark deay, He will quietly lead

though a man be cursed
through His will he may see
by resisting the worst
we may love, and feel, and be free

not of sin
not of care
not to win
but to share

on the day of Christs rebirth
through little effort or thought
i may again proove my worth
sharing the Love that i myself sought

happy Easter, to everybody the same
let's take a moment from the busy day
to hear, and savor the sound, of His name
to hope, think, and even to pray

in my frail, and grateful place
i stand still and give Him His due
His is the Presence that leads to Grace
so even this flawed vessel, can become anew!

happy Easter!!!!!!!!!


an excerpt:

[ seek His Son, who died to save
unlike us, He didn't have to fill a grave
and yet He came to us, to live and teach
and then to die, and rise up from Satans' reach

can you imagine Satans' fearful surprise
when he was faced with the Power, of his Prize?
Christ is Mercy, Love, Deliverance, and Understanding
yet with all the Power of God commanding!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Copyright © solomon storm | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |


it had to fall
for us all
so we could begin
he died for our sin
he raise his head
for all our blood is red
its for me you too
and boy and girl

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |


There were much agony and tears
Painful words entered my ears

Sorrow filled my troubled soul
Yet I knew this was no time to fold

I took three disciples to watch with me,
but they could not; sleep got the best of them

Sweat poured from me like drops of blood
I felt the gloom, but never void of My Father's love 

"Father!", I cried. "Please remove this cup so bitter?"
But my Father made me a gallant fighter, not a quitter

I knew that this cup was filled with the sentence of death
Its contents meant a brief separation between me and my Father

So I persisted, "Is there any possibility that I don't drink this cup?
Three times I asked, and three times, my Father said, "No".

Finally, with love for mankind, I surrendered to my Father's will.
My closest friends forsook me, for fear that they too would be killed.

With My Father's love, I drank the bitter cup designed only for me.
With my Father's love, I drank it for her, him, them, and for you.                                             

04052017 PS; Poem Written in April(Not for Contest), Laura Loo                     I felt God's love embracing me as I wrote this. I pray you also will experience such overwhelming love as you read it.

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017