Song Easter Poems

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

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The poem(s) are below...



Details | Ballade |
                 
                 Wave a sea softened
                  and a pain and a tenderness
                   throw dreams in fascination
                   of the blue.
                   And let shave the waves of
                   Your eternity , oh, weigh
                    above me,
                    oh,weigh a  coast of years.
                    Carry far in azure, spiral
                    ships,
                    with bulging little abdomens,
                    flutter with mahagony pinions
                    and already in vain  expect you
                    to stop the scales harbours 
                    with hot flames for You are
                    open.
                    Far away, far away ,far away,
                    stretched string,
                    heart and frank await the 
                    hymn of June.
                    All sea sisters are dressed in
                    mother-of-pearl garment
                    embroidered of kiss of 
                    eternity. 
                    In the morning hunts them
                    fishermen and revive with
                    breath of their man’s hands.
                    In the evening girls wash 
                    their black tunics,
                    in their blue hearts,
                    their feet white ,who cadge
                    heavy chains.
                    The night is squeezed enigma
                    and ugly,
                    predatory like a bat pecking
                    of scarlet fig.
                    Sea sisters, sea sisters,
                    remember His steps 
                    which go through you noiselessly,
                  and ou swing like
                  bloody wine-
                 hold in His fingers Herod,
                 Pilate washes his hands,
                in Yours heirs
               and they bristled like winter
               icicles bristles of innoncent blood .
               There at Golgotha 
                hearing terrible cry,
                blood gushes like
               wounded river disappear
               like Easter roses,
              in weeds of flushed 
     preditory crowd,
     to open way of
     saving.
     Who is He?
     Do you heard 
     His name ?
     He is Messiah,
     God’s anoited
      Jesus Christ.
      Like little sheeps,
      clouds of candy floss,
      they welcome festivaly.
       Barefooted are feet 
      of lovely swarthy steps
     of the sun, came to bow,
      before You , Creator.
      The sea throws his 
       magnificent silver flesh,
      blue like heavently lace,
       to swallow all stars 
       only Bethlehem’s
      stays inextinguishable,
       pretty like uncreated
      like an apple of not 
      born girl.      

Copyright © Nina Mindova | Year Posted 2012




Details | Couplet |
I do not write in April, because that’s the month that comes before May.
I do not write in April, because then June would arrive in total disarray!

I do not write in April, now, although I have before this day.
I do not write in April, actually, although with words I’m known to play.

I do not write in April, when there’s ANZAC’s, Easter and Palm Sunday.
I do not write in April, and from that delicate decree I’ll not go astray.

I do not write in April, but exactly why, I can’t quite say.
I do not write in April, and it’s for the best, that here, I don’t betray.

I do not write in April, although I do read papers from my in-tray.
I do not write in April, so you won’t find any papers in my out-tray.
	
I do not write in April, when I’m outside whiling my time away.
I do not write in April, for that fills my insides with strange dismay!

I do not write in April, for I’ll not wear a wreath like a gloomy lay!
I do not write in April, but I’ll cheerfully whistle down your way.

I do not write in April come whatever, come what may.
I do not write in April. I do not write in April I say!

I do not write in April, but I’d gladly sing a song for Spring to stay.

Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
"The Kitty and the Bunny" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Pop! Goes the 
Weasel".

'Round and 'round the dogwood tree
Kitty chased the Easter Bunny,
'Til Bunny tossed an egg
That broke Kitty's leg;
And Kitty cried, "This game ain't fun-ny!".

Bonus activity: Give children some crayons and paper and have them turn this poem into a comic strip. Tell them you would use four boxes for your comic strip: one showing Kitty chasing the bunny, the next one showing the bunny tossing an egg, the next showing kitty holding his paw, and the last one showing tears streaming down Kitty's face. But, tell children they can use as few or as many boxes as they like for their comic strips and even change the storyline. The dogwood tree becomes an apple tree and bunny is seen pelting Kitty with apples. Perhaps squirrels join in the fight and start throwing acorns at Kitty.

Copyright © Cherie Durbin | Year Posted 2011




Details | Lyric |
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 | Lyric |
The Passion They called it “The Passion”— His passion for lost souls; Crucified and murdered For so called religious goals. Christ’s passion for the hurting, Tempest-tossed soul; Sacrificed His earthly life; Man’s eternity His goal. Chorus The Passion and the cross Is a story to be told, Until this world ends And judgment unfolds. A carpenter turned preacher With no sword in hand Was led to His death By Judas’ evil band. Taken in the evening From Gethsemane’s garden; Hung from a cross That we may be pardoned. To be cruelly beaten Without human reason; Mocked and spat on In a prophetic season. Made to wearily carry His instrument of death; A heavy wooden cross; Laboring for breath. Crucified with wood and nails, The objects of His trade, Because He preached His Father’s love; His Passion was forbade. Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2012 Featured in my Easter Poem’s Book published 2012 www.maureenlefanue.com

Copyright © MAUREEN LEFANUE | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |
"The Easter Bunny" is a song, sung to the tune of "I'm a Little Teapot".

I'm the Easter Bunny;
Look at me,
Hiding these eggs  
So swiftly.

When I get all finished
You'll come out
And, "Look! I found an egg!"
You will shout!

Author's note: "The Easter Bunny" makes a great activity poem for children. To get 
those kids moving, switch to the version below:

I'm the Easter Bunny;
Look at me, (child forms bunny ears by wiggling fingers on top of head)
Hiding these eggs (child holds a pretend egg in the air)
So swiftly. (child races around room pretending to hide eggs in various places-behind 
plants, beneath furniture).

When I get all finished (child wipes pretend sweat off forehead)
You'll come out (child pretends to open a door and step outside)
And, "Look! I found an egg!" (child holds a pretend egg in the air)
You will shout. (child cups hands around mouth and pretends to shout).

Copyright © Cherie Durbin | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
Woke up this morning, in my home all alone
Set up your picture, in the hall by the phone
I glanced at the kids faces, hanging there on the wall
Dropped to my knees and prayed, there in the hall

I looked out in the yard, through the kitchen window
Saw white and yellow tulips, blooming beside our broken home
And there on the table, set the empty Easter baskets
Oh! Now my heart is filled, with all of my regrets

Today the sun is shining down, on the yard so bright 
The grass is all new, looking so fresh and green
Oh! darling It's Easter, It's Easter
Last night you packed and left, after our terrible fight
Oh! but darling, you have to know 
That those words, I didn't mean
Darling It's Easter, It's Easter

Now I'm standing here knee deep, in this bed of  flowers
As my eyes start to drop tears, down like April showers
Oh! darling I can't bare, being alone on this Easter day
My God  please open your eyes, and turn around today

I know now, that I've been taking you for granted
But if you come back, I promise I'll be the man you wanted 
For this is to be, one of the happiest days of the year
But darling you left because of me, and now I shed these tears

Today the sun is shinig down, on the yard so bright 
The grass is all new, looking so fresh and green
Oh! darling It's Easter, It's Easter
Last night you packed and left, after our terrible fight
Oh! But darling, you have to know 
That those words, I didn't mean
Darling It's Easter, It's Easter

Copyright © George Martin | Year Posted 2007

Details | I do not know? |
He died for us on Calvary’s Hill
Fulfilling His Father’s will,
But this was not the whole of his part
To turn to the Father all man’s heart.
It all began with his birth in a cave
But did not end with the life that he gave.
He taught by the life that he had led
Even by the multitudes that He fed.
He rose again on the third day.
The price of death He did pay.
He taught us then and teaches us now
To love each other and to serve how?
With all our heart, strength and mind.
In serving others joy we’ll find.
This Easter season let us do our part
To show we’ve taken His lessons to heart.
Praise Him in word and in deed and in act
And let no one ever forget the fact.
He lived for us and lives for us still
So let us be about doing His will.

Copyright © Richard Rogers | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sonnet |
When bird song rumored dawn, I climbed a hill,
A hill I've climbed before, again, again.
I came to learn a song so glad and still
It only sounds at dawn, just when...Just when.

I climb because He said the shadow lifts
Like mist is burned from silver mirror lakes,
Then new reflection on the surface drifts
As all below the surface breaks.  It breaks.

A breeze strummed grass, and gold announced the dawn.
The common graces seemed to chant the start
Of day;  yet only this day breaks upon
The symphonies inside your heart.  Your heart.

Among the miracles that Easter gives
Are songs of Always.  Listen now.  He lives!

Isaiah 42:10

Copyright © Barbara Long | Year Posted 2006

Details | Quatrain |
Every spring, I remember the Exodus story.
How the twelve tribes became free from slavery, 
Escaping across the wind parted Red Sea, is a mystery. 
Easter in Italy, "Pasqua" is an echo of Passover history.

In England, Easter is the modern Exodus.
Good Friday through to Easter Monday.
It's a good long weekend holiday for us,
To be spent driving on a jammed motorway.

Hurrah! At last we see the sea at the seaside.
Saturday starts with "Full English Breakfast".
Then, promenading on Brighton Pier with pride.
Easter Monday evening, time to go home at last!

Romans demolished Jerusalem's Temple for all to see.
The twelve tribes became slaves in the diaspora.
In Rome these captured slaves eventually became free
To sing the "Song of the (Red) Sea" at Pasqua.

Copyright © Michael Sender | Year Posted 2018