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Religious Easter Poems | Religious Poems About Easter

These Religious Easter poems are examples of Religious poems about Easter. These are the best examples of Religious Easter 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.
Just then I saw a band of men
approaching down the narrow road;
there should be one among that crowd
aho 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 dines 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 will wash His feet with tears of love
and with my hair wipe the sand away.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Ask The Lord's Forgiveness

All the things we are on earth- 
And all the things we're not.
All the times we've hurt our Lord,
By word and deed and thought.
All the days we've made Him sad,
Through hateful acts of spite.
We need step back a pace or two
And make the bad things right.
For heaven's not that far away-
Could be . . just round the bend.
And none of us can ever know
The moment of our end.
Be grateful for the blessings
He's bestowed on you this while.
Offer thanks by honoring Him,
In ways that make Him smile.
Ask for His forgiveness
For the times you hurt Him so.
Accept the blood He shed for you
Before your time to go.
Our days are but a platform,
Where we stage the life to come.
Thus all the joys of heaven
Are not there for everyone.
So bid the Lord come to your door
And then invite Him in.
Ask His grace as you confess
To all your earthly sins.
He will know what's in your heart
And if you are sincere . .
You'll have your place in Heaven
And dispel death’s dread and fear.

Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

He Arose

Long ago Man soaked alters in blood
by sacrificing animals to God.
And despite Noah and the great flood
ploughs were hammered into sword and rod.

Civilizations grew and flowered
only to vanish with little trace.
And men of peace were labeled coward
while women were chattel kept in place.

God was always at war with Mankind
smiting pagans with His Holy wrath.
And compromise was so rare to find 
there was no hope for a peaceful path.

Jesus didn't think of God that way
wanting to remove hate from His faith.
And preaching love taught us how to pray
purging souls of unclean thoughts and wraith.

Challenging what the people were taught
some demanded His blood for His love.
And crucified Him, yet His death bought 
us eternal life through God above.

He was mourned and laid out in a cave
where for three days He suffered in hell.
And then He arose and left that grave
called His apostles and bid them tell.

God The Father now lives in our heart
blood is no longer offered to Him.
For through His Son, love got a new start
and the fate of Man’s looking less grim.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Senryu |

Senyru- it is done

in one last death gasp
      a son calls with a sad   sigh
                it is done father

April 11, 2017

Senyru/it is done
Copyright Protected, ID 891651

For the contest Easter Haiku or Senryu
Laura Loo

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2017

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

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

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

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2014

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
He is sure to set your life
On the upward way.

Copyright © Andrew Bovell | Year Posted 2013

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 wood chips 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 Heaven 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?

Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

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 had 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?

© Faye Lanham Gibson, 1987

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

He Just Began

I went to the chapel today
And I thought of a mother's loss
When I saw a picture of Mary
Praying at the foot of the Holy Cross.

To see a child suffer
There can be no greater pain
Especially one of your own
The one you have blessed with name.

She was there for the Crucifixion
And after His persecutors had gone 
They had tried to end His Sacred Life
"But the Lord had just begun!"

Brenda Elizabeth Rose

Copyright © Brenda Rose | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

As We Look Back We Also Look Ahead

As We Look Back 
We Also Look Ahead.

We look back a few short days.
We’d trimmed a “Christian” tree.
For all the Season to enjoy.
To see how ‘changed’ we all might be.

For there upon that lovely sight,
Was the story, how it all began.
Of many things the Bible says
How our Savior took His stand. 

But let’s not stop our story here
Easter time is coming fast.
That will announce this stories end
Our Saviors come to save at last.

For though at Christmas time we cheer
The humble birth of “King of Kings”
Most Christian folk remember well
The death of Christ this season brings.

With pieces of the “Stable” story
Still hung upon our “Christian Tree”
Our Savior’s body would also hang
For all the world’s lost souls to see.

Let’s keep this rhyme close at hand
So while others await the Easter Bunny
Dyeing eggs and munching “Peeps”
We see Easter’s not the least bit funny

What we will see is God’s own plan
Written down all across the land
Preserved for us to learn and live
All carried out by His “Right” hand.

Lest I forget the exciting part
It doesn’t end with a buried preacher
For in coming days many would see
Walking & talking, their Blessed teacher. 

 For God had long promised A Messiah
A Prophet, A Priest, A Healer, A King
A Deliverer, A Savior, an Intercessor.
This Jesus would prove to be “everything”.
So if you pray before bed each night
May it be Christmas Eve or Easter’s Lent
Remember always to share with others
That wonderful Savior our God has sent.

And if by chance you haven’t done it.
Remember always He wants you too.
Invite Him now, to rule your heart.
Time may be short. Our days be few?

Written by oldbuck to encourage some serious
moments into days often completely filled with 
Joy & Laughter. To bring “hints” of the “rebirth” to come.

Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

He Lives

Here on this early,
 beautiful Easter morning.
Thoughts run through my head
 that gets me contemplating.

Jesus Christ and his
 miraculous and great resurrection.
That saves us from death
 all through his connection.

  Our perfect brother
   through God... yes He lives! 
  Our friend, our redeemer.
   I know now He Lives.

As the clouds slowly part
 and the sun shines through.
With a steady beam of
 light so pure and true.

Now in my heart and mind
 I see my descending Savior.
Could it truly be
 this souls lone creator?

  Our perfect brother
   through God... yes He Lives!
  Our friend, our redeemer.
   I know now He lives.

Copyright © Mark Mason | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Blessed Mother

Blessed Mother

Blessed Mother you answered the call
Holy Mother of Jesus and of us all

It must have been hard to watch him grow to a man
Knowing that "He" was the sacrificial lamb

Did you call out to God to change the plan of salvation
To save your son over all creation

I feel your pain, your anguish and tears
The times you wanted to hide from your fears

To steal Him away, protect Him from fate
Begging the Father to let him escape

But deep in your heart you stayed true and strong
You knew to obey, to resist would be wrong

Knowing from the start, His destiny was set in stone
You raised and loved Him, though not truly your own

I honor you Holy Mother of God
I thank you for this rocky path you've trod

I pray to persevere in the trials I face
To use your model of love and grace

Debra Irsik

Copyright © Debra Irsik | Year Posted 2015

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

Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Easter Day

Easter is glorious day,
Not only to enjoy,
The candy and Easter egg hunt,
But a day,
To rejoice,
In the Lord's resurrection,
Where He gave us,
His life,
To save us from our sins,
Which we all should remember,
And charish,
Each and everyday,
Of our precious lives,
In this world,
That His Father created,
For us all to live,
And gave us a choice,
Between right from wrong,
Which is not always easy,
But if we always turn,
To the Father and the Son,
We will always find,
Them by our side,
Carrying us along the way.

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2014

Details | Limerick |



Taking sides in discussions holily
About whether Uran used his willy
Means you're trapped in their game -
Either side is the same:
Cock distracts, cash departs, crowd stays silly.


The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. 


Copyright © Julian Bohan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Christ's resurrection

Today we celebrate Jesus Christ rising from the dead.
As he was nailed to the cross, he suffered and bled.
After Jesus died for our sins, we didn't have to sacrifice animals anymore.
He's the son of God and his teachings are something we can't ignore.
When we ask to be saved in his name, we will not get a rejection.
Today is Easter Sunday and we celebrate Christ's glorious resurrection.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Pre Easter Prayer 2015

Pre Easter Prayer 2015

In the name of Jesus Christ who is our Lord and Savior,
I start by closing my eyes,
 And sending my spirit in the heaven closer to our God,
I speak a holly tongue,
I open the entire heaven and let the holly wind blow to whole earth,
And let the fire of the Holly Spirit to clean every dark in this world,
The sword of fire to cut the connection of the space and of earth,
I confirm the arrest of Lucifer,
Whose hands is cuffed by hot wires,
I speak to everything of this earth to listen to the word,
I tie the hearts and the mouth of the darkness,
I sprinkle the word Jesus to all their spells to confuse them,
And number 7 in all their numbers to dilute them 
I tie all their hands and legs by hot rods,
Their mouth by hot glue,
I save every soul which was meant to be lost or suffer according to the darkness,
And any part of earth which was meant to be destroyed,
I again send fire to the houses and the hearts of the witches,
To burn all their tools to ashes,
I declare the Easter anointed, blessed and protected to everyone,
As everyone go through this Prayer. Is anointed and protected.
Today, tomorrow and forever…..

Copyright © Mulaudzi Ndifelani Eric | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

The Sacrifice

God required a sacrifice,
unspotted, perfect, clean;
nothing less than His own Son,
the sacrifice supreme.

His life was laid down willingly
to redeem lost, fallen man,
without protest, without a word,
my sacrificial Lamb.

His blood was shed, poured out,
my soul to purify;
the Spirit's all consuming fire
the sacrifice applies.

Blessed, holy Son of God,
sweet perfume, divine,
the essence of Your sacrifice
has won this heart of mine.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |


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
over 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.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

My God, How It Hurts

My God, How It Hurts

We have forgotten
How dangerous is this man
Refusing not to do miracles
Abjuring not to love
Going beyond His mother's pain
Beyond being a good son
To do the Father's will.

We have forgotten
The depth of evil
He allowed to drench Him
Bleed and bruise Him
Beyond all human endurance
Gleefully denying Him
For whom He was born to be.

We have forgotten
The love of the Father
So fully developed for us
He had to turn away
At that moment on the cruel cross
When God-given life
Was given up.

We have forgotten
How dangerous is this man
Whose love was more than life
This Son of God
Whose promise to us meant so much
That He shrugged off death
And He arose.

by E. Marshall Evans

Copyright © Ed Evans | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |

Song of the Troubadour

A troubadour came by my house;
beneath my window he did sing.
I had never heard such melody
or listened to like lyrics ring.
He sang a song I understood,
a song of love for me alone;
and , gazing through the latticed frame,
I knew that I would be his own.

The haunting strains, they wound their way,
even before I could resist,
my heart was bound by cords of love;
forever to his song I would list.
"I long to follow you." I cried,
"fair, wandering minstrel, gay and free;
I want to be your gypsy bride
and sing sweet songs of love with thee."

He bade me follow with a look--
a look my tongue cannot describe--
so tender that my heart leaped up.
"I will follow you! Oh, yes!" I cried.
And then I saw, just as I turned 
to go with love forevermore,
what I had thought a laurel wreath
was but a crown of thorns he wore.

The robe which from his shoulders hung--
it had seemed spotless, white as snow;
but, then I saw it stained with blood.
yet, still with him I longed to go.
His feet and hands were bruised and torn;
"oh, who had wounded one so good!"
Just then I saw the lute he played
was but a rugged cross of wood.

"Oh, Love!" I cried, "dear, fairest one,
who dared to harm and hurt you so!"
and then I heard the song again...
"It was for you; did you not know?"
"For me? I do not understand;
for just today I heard your song."
He turned to speak what now I know.
"My love," he said, "I called you long."

We sing the song together now;
each day is but a new refrain.
Yet, still I marvel when I hear
a note of joy wrung out of pain.
I did not know when first I heard
his music calling to my heart
that love is not triumphant
till wounded, pierced and torn apart.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | 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 | Narrative |

Betwixt food and human relationship

It’s good to get together as friends and confreres
like in table fellowship or religious convocation
and then, enjoy the company of each other’s culture
as Italians, Colombians, Filipinos or Brazilians.

The day after Easter Sunday adds another occasion
for us Scalabrinians to be reunited at this point in time
sharing the gifts of food, life, humor and relationship 
with a space for fraternity, some updates and good wishes.

Truly, it shows the spirit of oneness and fraternal fellowship
sharing the commonality of our commitmment to faith
as brothers in Christ and members of our Founder’s order,
the religious congregation that cares for migrant people. 

There’s much to do and plan for what we aim to materialize
in today’s world where migration poses a huge issue
like a salad bowl with mozzarella, tomato and olive oil
a metaphor for migration that deals with human cultures.

Described in the Bible as a growing missionary virtue
hospitality as a key to open one’s heart in this journey
With fearlessness and confidence, it’s a major issue
depicting the picture of global movements raised in action.

Our days of darkness, our bickering confreres in places –
where community life matters and features one’s emptiness
in dealing with one another in our quest for human and divine.
it’s indeed a challenge and will always be a test of faith, thus far.

This helps us understand through our setbacks, pains and joys,
with friends around and those who share with us many times
those sacred stories of being called to worship God and be present
especially in the Eucharist that nourishes our souls to be whole.

Copyright © mark escobar | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative |

2015 White House Easter Breakfast

At the white house Easter breakfast
Obama showed his stripes
He showed us his true colors
For Christian way of life

Never mentioned harm that's done
To Christians far and near
But he got in a "Nasty Dig"
Like National day of prayer

His disdain for everything
That is not Islam based
He shows it every day in life
That bitter ugly taste

Christians all throughout our land
Just listen, and they wait
Hoping for an apology 
But he just spews more hate

There's millions that still love him
Some slowly fade away
Embarrassed by the guilt they feel
They don't know what to say

You heard the moans from his remarks
But no one dared to leave
Afraid that they'd be labeled
An honest American breed

His lies surpass his "swearing in"
His hate is seen by all
His tearing down the Christian faith
His true belief will fall...

Copyright © Pete Yuhas | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ottava rima |

Jesus Christ's Final Days on Earth

Jesus Christ’s Final Days on Earth

His ride to town began with human praise.
And palm fronds paved the road that Jesus chose.
The will of God the Father Christ assays.
Upon an ass with humble heart he goes.
The lessons that he spoke on Earth’s byways,
All words he taught amid the crowd echoes.
And men began to feel the higher law.
So, on that day they greeted him in awe.

Alone amid his friends he sought to pray.
No man could understand His strength and pain.
The drinking of death’s cup for sin would pay. 
The Son of God knew well he must be slain.
His fear of mortal death would come that day.
He bleeds from every pore as man’s sins reign.
Upon himself he took the flaws of all.
Submitting to God’s will that death befall.

Through trickery and lies his words were banned.
Some Sadducees distained lessons he taught.
The Pharisees paid Judas; and they planned.
Determined that Christ’s life would be for naught,
The soldiers knew the signal as preplanned.
The kiss of death sent Judas to his grave.
The news of his arrest filled all the land.
Lord, Jesus greeted wrath but he forgave.

Disciples ran away to save their lives.
The temple heard the angry shouts of hate. 
Imperfect men succeeded with sins’ strives,
The hatred of the mob did not abate.
With strength Christ sought to save their afterlives.
As for the crucifixion he did wait.
In silent love he bore that bitter cup.
Because he loved our souls are lifted up.

Despised, rejected, hated by his own,
Upon the cross that perfect man was hung.
Because he loved us so, he did atone.
And since his death, great praises have been sung.
For man no longer walks through life alone.
As to the gospel faithful saints have clung.
Arising from the grave he overcame.
By righteous faith, his saints can do the same.

Copyright March 23, 2015
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Resurrection of Christ

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |

Good Friday

Deep in the night one more candle is burning.
I am taking a sword and hatred is created.
I am one of those on the Mount of Olives,
we are listening to the blessed light that speaks to us.

And once again my heart will betray me,
on Good Friday,
and again I will see the bottom of my soul.
There you can find the crosses...
choose one and the other are broken down.

Copyright © Željko Sitar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Spring summer

~ 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 | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |

A New Dawn

Copyright © 2013

A New Dawn in His Glory
  foretold in a biblical story

Coming for those preparing
  skyward we will be starring

Like descending parachutes
  sounds of trumpets and flutes

Captivating our hearts
  giving us a new start

A New Dawn is coming 
  listen, nature is humming

Idelology clashing blows
  a tale between 2 foes

Revelations foretold a day
  when more begin to pray

World events getting crazier
  humanity's future  hazier

Waiting on ONE to stop this mess
  or, were we just another lab test?

by LP

Copyright © Les Pruitt | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,


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


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


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

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013