Best Golgotha Poems
I stood amidst the maddening crowds
drowned in cries of disarray....
Something about this gentle captive
Encouraged me to stay.
Through the crimson rivets flowing
his eyes they pulsed with love.
And through the swarming sea of fists
His gaze was cast above.
They kicked him down, with every lunge
a vicious spite fuelled taunt...
They marched their prey atop the hill
to torture kill and flaunt.
I braved the writhing mass of spite
as i was in his debt i felt.
I shuddered at his broken form
every open wound and welt.
His mouth grimaced in sheer torment
as nails were driven to his wrists.
Blood thickened on the sun scorched sand
trickling from his tight clenched fists.
They mounted him on the cross
As he was raised for all to see.
Anger toiled deep in my heart
as the high priests howled in glee.
All silenced by his final cry
his broken chords in lamentation.
He wailed unto the heavenly Father
The God of our creation....
Father God forgive them.. for they know not
what they do ...
Love was spilt from the beams that bore
The man so pure ... so true ..
And as he hung his deadening glare
which faded in affection..
Death had lost its mighty sting
as he awaited resurrection.
I was content to pass by on my way to Jerusalem with my basketful of leftover bread. A baker by trade, this is my busiest time of year. The Jews call it Passover. I call it profit. But the sky suddenly grows dark and I'm drawn to this rather bizarre spectacle on a hill called Golgotha by the Hebrews. I have witnessed men being executed here before, but this is different somehow. For one thing, the sky isn't just cloudy but sunless, starless, soulless. There are three execution stakes. The criminals look like scarecrows lit up by torches against an inky expanse. The one in the middle cries out in a tortured voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." Then I'm sure I hear him whisper, "It has been accomplished. Into your hands I surrender my spirit." There is a sign above his head that reads, "Jesus the Nazarene King of the Jews." Then it hits me. I've heard of this Jesus. Everyone has who is not living under a rock. It is said he has healed people of terrible diseases. Some reports suggest he has even raised the dead. Of course, I have never subscribed to Jewish fables.
Just as I am musing it all over the ground below me shakes violently. My bread spills onto the ground, ruined. The Roman soldiers who wore mockingbird faces only a moment ago are now white as ghosts. One of them cries out, "Surely this was a son of the gods." I have never been a person of faith but I can tell you this, I will never forget this day. Some predict he will rise in three days. We shall see.
a price paid in blood
an end and a beginning
faith born on a hill
I am a dog of Caanan. Protector of Israels settlements,
and scavenger of the deserts. Cowed in movement and
strangled with inhuman voice, I feed upon the waste
of the crowds that gather about your lingering soul
Traipsing around the anguish of the Golgotha crucified, I
smell their departing vapours. Yet, each step around
your fading ruin ignites a crucifixion within me.
Impaling me to your cross.
I hang upon your sorrow like a broken scarecrow, and
linger at your feet, hoping to be remembered in the
land to come. But, all I see is a simple man, pained to
the end of his tether. Shedding tears that fall from pain
filled eyes, as desperate for earthly release, as he is for
heavenly deliverance. Tears that nourish the dirt where
they fall and bless the heads of those who stand close
Loping between the legs of your faithful, I nip the ankles of
your accusers, a rightful dispenser of their pennance. Final
miracles are demanded but no longer heard, the weak of faith
tumble away like brittle leaves, blown by the frailest of winds.
Eliciting akward glances that feed my empathy, and soul
wrenching moments drained by your despair. No longer
cowed by man and his craven destructions, I sit at the
foot of your cross, resolutely guarding your ascendency.
On The Road to Golgotha
I followed Jesus up toward Jerusalem that day,
He took the disciples aside, told them what was headed His way.
He said very soon I will be betrayed by one of you,
I heard Him predict exactly what the gentiles would do.
As I followed Jesus into the city,
I heard praises of “Hosanna in the Highest!”, not a word of pity,
How could anyone harm this great man that I know?
A man that will do everything for you, and not for show.
Judas betrayed Jesus to the chief priest that night,
I knew as I followed the Lord that I had to fight.
Early the next morning, he heard Jesus would be put to death,
Judas put a rope around his neck and drew his last breath.
On the road to Golgotha I heard Jesus pray,
He said “Let no man interfere or stand in the way.”
He said “Father, the time has come to glorify your Son”,
I knew then that I must not fight, but turn around and run.
Jesus died on the cross that Easter weekend,
He died in our place and took all our sin.
Today in Heaven, He sits at His Father’s side,
He says turn from sin; come to Me, there is no place to hide.
©2008 Lynn B Glover
Galilee to Golgotha
He came as a Babe in a lowly manger
In Bethlehem from Galilee
Annals of time had prophesied
Messiah would come to set man free
Not through the realms of royalty
But by meager and modest means
Free from pollution of humanity
Untainted by mankind's genes
As a youth, He marveled the elite
When in the temple, He appeared
Rulers who once felt secure
Now, their position - - they feared
Hostility and fury, soon would follow
As law and tradition, He did negate
When their hierarchy was challenged
They knew their position, it did abate
Evil forces became more intense
Until "away with Him," they cried
"We'll not have Him rule over us"
For sure, He must be crucified
A rugged cross on Golgotha's hill,
There, they proclaimed His demise
But from the tomb, He arose to reign
Soon, He ascended into the skies
"I will return," He did declare
Only then will true peace prevail
Mine own, with Me shall be secure
Evil forces, will no more assail
Colan L Hiatt = 11-24-15
© All Rights Reserved
I
When the man whose blood ran as fecund streams
Gave up His last breath, darkness fell like judgment
It would hang from midday, one Friday, for hours
At three that afternoon, at a nearby Temple
The thick curtains, at least a meter deep, ripped
From top to bottom, revealing the inner sanctum
Was it an invitation? Come to Me without an intermediary?
Someone served till He bled love, freedom, salvation -
That Friday of horror is called Good Friday
Because someone paid for me, I go before Abba-Father ... free
II
Today at church in South Africa, we did half the communion during our worship. We heard Isaiah (53:5) reveal His body given and broken for Me/world, by His stripes we are healed. But the CUP at the Table of the LORD, is the New Covenant "in my blood," said Jesus. That took effect two days after Good Friday. We shall drink the symbolic, ordinary, wine to commemorate His Death and abstaining from the fruit of the vine until all SAVED siblings do it together in the Father's House. With our LAMB and Lion of Judah, Jesus. I am called to serve like Jesus, but I fail so miserably and humiliatingly. Where's gratitude in my soul? Holy Spirit help me thank Jesus, I beseech Thee, & all of Creation (Groaning for renewal according to Romans, chapter 8). amen shalom
Through the streets i followed
Not believing my eyes
Three carrying crosses
Only two of them cried
We reached a place
Called the hill of the skull
Golgotha " Calvariae Locus "
Calvary hill
Three holes in the soil
Were awaiting their fate
One for above
And two for hells gate
Bloodied and nailed
Impaled on natures wood
To quiet a faith
This is all they could
Their efforts were in vain
As higher powers intervened
When i looked through my eyes
On that Calvary hill scene
What did the Romans fear
From the one who wore the thorns
He who the people followed
For in the morning will be reborn
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-6.php
Hideous hill, crested with crosses.
Skulls scattered among sandstone rock.
Ghastly gems, grim reminders them,
of hapless souls that hung on thee.
Haunted hill, hideout of demons.
Where wretched souls are lifted high,
on beams that mimic human frame,
to gasp for breath, and slowly die.
On thee, the Son of God was hung,
upon a cross, with thorns for crown.
He bore the penalty for sin,
that men may live and dwell with him.
Golgotha’s hill, symbol of hope,
for sinners who in darkness grope.
You bid them lift their eyes to thee,
Accept the Christ of Calvary.
#Golgotha
Is it true that all humans will die?
If yes, then why do we still cry?
I once saw a ghost fly
It flew far away into the sky
All I heard it say was good bye
Till when will our tears dry?
We sometimes wish we knew why
Why death feels no pain or even shy
Death has become the order of the day
It attacks from all angles and everyone is a prey
It informs not, and listens not to what you say
Its always on time and there is never a delay
If it has a remote control, we will stop and never play
It cuts across all living things including a Blay
O' God listen to us as we kneel and pray
By: Isaac Asante
©2018
Golgotha
He looked upon the people beneath him
Some taunted while others wept
He looked up and in agony beseeched
"Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do"
A crown of thorns adorned his brow
And tore his gentle flesh
Insults and ridicule rained up to him
While understanding and forgiveness were returned
He drug his cross from the town
And up this infamous hill
It bit into his shoulder and buckled his tired knees
But it could not touch his quiet magistracy
Iron spikes were hammered in
His flesh was injured anew
And down below, the believers saw
That a great miracle was coming true
The lifeless body was lowered down
And gently laid away
A huge boulder was set in place
To help keep His body safe
Easter mornings' sun found the boulder rolled away
His body, too, had been lifted up
And in their mind an echo shook
"Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do"
© 1988 B. E. Parks senti poem
All Rights Reserved
I fear no more
For death gives forever life
In death, life is known
But without death I’m dead
Death is no death since it bears the life
But to live is death if I fear to die
Life, there is in a cross gently born
In painful patience and meekness
In rugged road to Golgotha
Perfecting redemption of man
Life there is in blood that dripped out of head
Adorned with thorn and thistle,
Hands and legs nailed to the cross
And in water that spurted out of side
Punctured with weapon of the cruel guard
Now He lives and dies no more
That life may be portioned to the living dead
Who lives in His death to death
He lives and works in my mortal body
To rescue my poor soul from the grip of death
The vault is empty
This is my confidence
Shame to death and its sting
He is risen!
Contest name: Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Our lord beaten and bloody
Must die like a criminal
To add insult upon injury
Atop his tousled curls
Was set a thorny crown
Pressed into his scalp
He carried his cross
Upon his bloodied back
Through narrow streets
To the baying of the crowds
Then onto the hill of Calvary
Where the prince of peace
Was nailed to his cross of pain
And dealt the final blow
His side pierced by a spear
His earthly life ebbing away
Through the open wound
He called out to God
But not for vengeance
He asked that they be forgiven
And his cross of pain
Cast a Holy shadow
Across the world
That reached every corner
But the shadow cast
Was not one of darkness
But one of light
A divine light
The light of love
Which still shines today
For it is the eternal light of God
Ummm...
.
Sometimes when I linger in between the absolutes,
I look toward Heaven for some kind of cue,
But it seems as if Heaven is reluctant to move.
I’m impatiently waiting not sure what to do.
Again it seems like I’m the only one in the room,
Who hears the hushed whispers
Of the unseen Truth.
.
The frenzied crowd cries out for blood,
And the world gets washed away in the flood.
Disgraced face,
Covered in mud.
Flaunting the defeat as though a victory has come.
The broken hang their heads in shame,
Unaware of the Savior’s pain.
His cry muted by their self righteous refrain.
The empty promise,
Of religion’s lost game.
With their spit on His face Mercy still came.
Yet the less we give, the more we take.
Did we count the cost before we took His name?
What about the ones
Whose only glimpse of the Son
Came from the ones
Who only pointed their guns,
And then laughed as all the broken could do is run?
.
.
The skinny kid last to be picked on the team.
The fat girl ridiculed crying herself to tormented sleep.
The poor kid with worn out shoes on his feet.
Sitting alone at a free lunch table
As the populars flirt at the cool kids meet and greet.
The single mom that the judgmental church called a whore.
Like Jesus she stands outside of their self righteous door.
The little boy trembles at night on the floor
While the mean teacher by day berates him and demands he do more.
That same teacher that smiles on Sundays and stands at the Sunday school door.
Unaware that she’s playing religion’s new whore.
Laughing girls making fun of the Walmart dress
That the poor girl wears because it is her best.
The frail little boy fights back the tears,
As the bullying boys punch him and call him a *****.
He cries out for help
While the ones he trusted turn a deaf ear.
.
Will anyone tell these of heaven’s free gift?
That Jesus laid down His life so they could now live?
Those that society says have nothing to give?
Who will be
the example to them?
With blood on our hands,
How dare we speak of Him.
Yet His offer of life extends to us all.
The self righteous as well as the broken all have experienced “the fall”
He mends with His love both the great and the small.
“Follow Me” still
The greatest call of all.
Ummm...
.
Sometimes when I linger in between the absolutes,
I look toward Heaven for some kind of cue,
But it seems as if Heaven is reluctant to move.
I’m impatiently waiting not sure what to do.
Again it seems like I’m the only one in the room,
Who hears the hushed whispers
Of the unseen Truth.
.
The frenzied crowd cries out for blood,
And the world gets washed away in the flood.
Disgraced face,
Covered in mud.
Flaunting the defeat as though a victory has come.
The broken hang their heads in shame,
Unaware of the Savior’s pain.
His cry muted by their self righteous refrain.
The empty promise,
Of religion’s lost game.
With their spit on His face Mercy still came.
Yet the less we give, the more we take.
Did we count the cost before we took His name?
What about the ones
Whose only glimpse of the Son
Came from the ones
Who only pointed their guns,
And then laughed as all the broken could do is run?
.
.
The skinny kid last to be picked on the team.
The fat girl ridiculed crying herself to tormented sleep.
The poor kid with worn out shoes on his feet.
Sitting alone at a free lunch table
As the populars flirt at the cool kids meet and greet.
The single mom that the judgmental church called a whore.
Like Jesus she stands outside of their self righteous door.
The little boy trembles at night on the floor
While the mean teacher by day berates him and demands he do more.
That same teacher that smiles on Sundays and stands at the Sunday school door.
Unaware that she’s playing religion’s new whore.
Laughing girls making fun of the Walmart dress
That the poor girl wears because it is her best.
The frail little boy fights back the tears,
As the bullying boys punch him and call him a *****.
He cries out for help
While the ones he trusted turn a deaf ear.
.
Will anyone tell these of heaven’s free gift?
That Jesus laid down His life so they could now live?
Those that society says have nothing to give?
Who will be
the example to them?
With blood on our hands,
How dare we speak of Him.
Yet His offer of life extends to us all.
The self righteous as well as the broken all have experienced “the fall”
He mends with His love both the great and the small.
“Follow Me” still
The greatest call of all.
The route is long
and my destination is far ,
The hot white sun,
is beating on me ten times harder than before .
I stumble and I fall,
yet again I rise because
the road to golgotha is worth the fight .
They want to slaughter me just like a lamb
yet I am willing to pay for the soul of man
My sacrifice will not go in vain
because the road to golgotha is worth that pain .
They nailed me to a tree .
They stripped me bare for all to see
but I will take all that comes to me
because my redemption will set man free.
You will one day see the price I paid
My blood will wash and set you free
You will say that the road to
Golgotha was worth it for me .