Best Paschal Poems
Roads rising up from Irish mists in merry jigs
To the flowing tenor song
Sung by the River Boyne born from Tara's Keep
As Patrick's paschal fire
Weaves truth from stones of blarney
And lucky charms of Erin's spring
Cloth hills in kilts of green clovers with four leaves
To the Kerry pipers wail of jigs and tiompan reels
When soft sunbeams kiss fields - the wind petals
Of Killarney's rose in Londonderry Airs
Born in fifes and fiddles in soft brogues
Delighting in tea and scones - the clairsel harp -
When clear cut crystal rays
Embrace green fields clothed in sheep -
Faire mischief - the wind dance of the Kells -
In bohdran thunder to banish banshee cries
As pirate queens and lost chieftain kings
Sail from emerald shores
Until they meet again beneath the blessings
Of the Celtic cross
In the north winds of the fair aran island.
Categories:
paschal, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Grace, God’s pleasure,
is His treasure,
in bold measure
beautiful grace.
Christ bore the dross
of worldly loss
upon His cross.
He took our place.
Accused of sham
the great I Am
our paschal Lamb
in love’s embrace.
When people grope
He is our hope,
the means to cope,
His body raised.
a rhupunt written 5 Dec 2014
A rhupunt (RHEE– PINT) is a Welch form consisting of three, four or more lines of four syllables with a rhyming scheme. It will be seen that the last lines of each stanza rhyme and the other lines rhyme with each other within the stanza. For example, in a three-line stanza the pattern would be a, a, B. / c, c, B. / d, d, B. Four-line stanzas would rhyme a, a, a, B. / c, c, c, B. / d, d, d, B. and so on. . .
Categories:
paschal, beauty, easter, wisdom, world,
Form:
Rhyme
Muscles locked in agony
Every ligament burning
Pain flooding nerve endings
Labor
Heavy panting of breath
Heart pumping trying to keep up
Behind the canopy of human perception
Life and Death dance
On her knees pushing
Two women holding her
A third with hands out
Down, down . . . blood, sweat
Water – tears
A tearing and a swoosh
A boy, cover in blood
Cries into the wind
Life laughs with delight
Rachel in a panting whisper
Ben-Oni – his n a m
e
Dies
Death – laughs defiantly
Echoes across this luscious valley
Livestock pause from eating
Shepherds watch
Jacob climbs Migal Eder
Grief cries fill the valley
*** 1000 years later ******
A small wiry man from Moresheth
Deeply troubled
Spoke about justice
The coming of doom
But also of hope
Micah climbs – Migal Eder
Watchtower of the flock
Cries -- “Daughter of Zion”
Listen . . .
“Daughter of Jerusalem”
Hear my words
“Bethlehem Ephrathah
Small among the mighty clans of Judah
From within you
A ruler over Israel – a shepherd
From the beginning of days
Of ancient time
The restorer of Peace”
***** 700 years later ******
Too many people
No rooms
Tired, frustrated, worried
The pain . . .
Life and death begin to dance
She yells
J-O-S--E---P---H !!!!!
In the distance
A tower
Fire
“Hang on Mary”
Almost there
Panting prayer- Y a h w e h!!!
Father of this great hurt!
P – L – E – A – S – E
Release your son – NOW!!
Down
Upon her knees
A depression of earth
A pair of hands
Pushing with all her might
Gritted teeth, white lips pressed wide
A tearing of maidenhood
A breaching of flesh – blood burst forth
Within the blood – an infant
Relief
Cool air – Life dances upon the breeze
Death shaken, slinks away
Breast, milk, a swaddling
A mother’s love
Under Migal Eder
Watchtower of the Flock
Resting in a manger
Across the valley
A bright light
Music – “Glory to God in the highest . . .”
A new shepherd
A paschal lamb
J E S U S
Live and Love Generously
David Meade
12/19/2016
Categories:
paschal, blessing, child, dance, love,
Form:
Free verse
Easter
Anointed Eternity
Rises up above the paschal dawn
Heaven’s wounded Prince returns to outshine glory
As the sun blushes – witness to His splendor –
Waters from His wounded side christen crystal springs
With flowing purity
And bloodstained rocks harmonize
With angelic “Alleluia!”
Sung at the top of their lungs like an angelic whisper
Next to the return of his voice.
Light explodes the unclean corpse of darkness
Remembering the lyrics to “Gloria!”
Floral trumpets blare sweet incense
Only a wispy scent in the aromatic frankincense
Of Resurrection’s perfume
As skeletons of the impotent offspring
Hatched by the insomniac serpent
Leave lifeless trails of petrified tears in wastelands
Blooming now from shattered halos.
Emmanuel and mortality
Savor manna’s wriggling ecstasy -
The wine of risen victory -
More abundant than nascent radiance
Life consummated through covenants perfected
In pierced sacrifice,
Echoing like whispers of bridal rejoicing,
Earth’s revelry but a shadow in His footsteps
Of triumphal glee –
Glee only a sigh next to His touch
Felt again,
Embraced as heralds open
Eden’s gates and Heaven’s portals
In forever without time.
Categories:
paschal, easter, jesus, joy, life,
Form:
Free verse
I had hoped there would be a 50th class reunion for my class of 67.
Instead, I got word the other day that Aggie High is closing its doors.
For four years, I was taught by some of the finest teachers in America.
For four long years, I filled your library, classrooms, and walked your hallways.
I was challenged and succeeded in math and was greatly inspired by my Biology Classes. I was arrested and captured, moved and mesmerized, by my charismatic History teacher. I even listed on your honor roll and sang in your very respected and talented choir.
I moved away 50 years ago and unfortunately, I have visited you only two or three times since. Just a few months ago, I was privileged to dialogue via telephone with my Art teacher's wife. Perhaps he knew of your coming closure, but he wasn't home to inform me.
O Aggie, I am sadden by the news, but I have come to understand such matters. O Aggie, it's interesting that you have joined a long list of changes and closures in my life. It's also interesting that things I once thought would be history, instead are now current events. Furthermore, it's interesting that, like many of my past acquaintances, I always get little warning.
O Aggie, all things have beginnings and endings, but know this: you have been a launching pad and a gallant educator, rocketing many of us to the stars. What you have instilled in us is forever credited to your account. You have fought a good fight, and your course is near the finish.
My eyes are getting watery Now. So I must cease and desist, lest my proud and tender memories of you get the best of me.
04082017 PS Contest, Paschal Premier, Brian Strand
Categories:
paschal, education, emotions, memory, sad,
Form:
Ode
Kissing her gently a dayspring, Daphne, in streams of light....
Chromatic chiffon curtains; their greating be this dawn ? Ornamental
Stitchery time's storybook soft, lashes fluttering while she dreams so, lovely
Tranquillity greeting his dawn silk cocoons; baroque, love's palette panacea's brush
A picture's window framing these strokes oscilloscope, paschal tides ? Scholastic waves
Embracing her shores palatial's mistress; free verse chrysanthemums, with gossamer wings
Belles-lettres, this beautiful damsel ? Novem she sleeps cascading locks a prophetess; silverish hues.
Categories:
paschal, love,
Form:
Kissing her gently a dayspring, Daphne, in streams of light....
Chromatic chiffon curtains; their greating be this dawn ? Ornamental
Stitchery time's storybook soft, lashes fluttering while she dreams so, lovely
Tranquillity greeting his dawn silk cocoons; baroque, love's palette panacea's brush
A picture's window framing these strokes oscilloscope, paschal tides ? Scholastic waves
Embracing her shores palatial's mistress; free verse chrysanthemums, with gossamer wings
Belles-lettres, this beautiful damsel ? Novem she sleeps cascading locks a prophetess; silverish hues.
Categories:
paschal, angel, art, autumn, love,
Form:
VI
Deeds
Patrick traveled lightly,
He carried but his needed load
And made himself as useful
As he could along the road.
He aided all who asked him,
Offering a hand where'er he went
And they, pagan or not, knew in his form
A blessing had been sent.
He made it, at last, to Ireland
And saw that he was needed there,
For, by the tribal rulers,
Hope in life had been made bare;
In his Creator's will for him,
Patrick was most sure--
That in his steadfast faith in God
Would lay any problem's cure.
Patrick was a foreigner,
He had no wordly protection
As he wandered through the Counties,
Which were then tribal sections.
Gifts and money, Patrick refused,
For conversion God did send
Him among the tribes and chieftains,
this rarely made a friend.
(Patrick never knew
That by the Druids long before
A vision had been prophesied,
A piece of their fathers' lore
About a harsh reformer,
From whose table would fly impiety
And those, who chose to follow him,
In blindness would agree.)
Patrick preached the gospel,
Forgiveness and mercy
And taught the Irish people
Of the soul lasting eternity,
Though some would not hear or objected,
Some could not resist-
There were so many converts
With no need to insist.
The people told that Patrick
Truly loved to teach
And time flew from his awareness
When he started to preach,
(He carried a gnarled staff of Ash
Where ever he went)
One night he preached so long,
The stick, roots into the ground, had sent!
Once Patrick lit a fire
Upon Slane hill in County Meath.
Billows of smoke filled the air
And rose above the heath,
He did this in defiance
Of Leoghary, who was king
And through Patricks brave resistance,
Christ's teachings, through, did ring:
Many pagans hauled up buckets,
The whole hillside they drenched,
But Patrick's Paschal fire
But by him could be quenched.
It was upon this hillside
Patrick dispelled pagan divinity
By plucking the trefoil shamrock
To illustrate the Trinity.
Categories:
paschal, god, history, ireland,
Form:
Trapped between two floors, maybe heaven and hell,
were souls that screamed through elevator doors.
Our feet in blood, we asked who was the devil
among us. Strangers died and out of fear
were souls that screamed through elevator doors.
I touched them, and they knew not who was the beast
among us. Strangers died and out of fear
they closed their eyes. I am the morning star!
I touched them and they knew not who was the beast.
Our feet in blood, we asked who was the devil?
They closed their eyes. I am the morning star...
trapped between two floors, maybe heaven and hell.
{Morning Star a.k.a. Lucifer}
Pantoum
7-10-11
To my beautiful readers
if this poem is confusing...
[ Lucifer in latin means "light-bearer". It was the name
given to the dawn appearance of the planet Venus, which
heralds daylight. For this meaning, English generally uses
the names "Morning Star" or "Day Star", one of the numerous
titles for the Devil, although, the Roman Rite liturgy's Exultet chant
in praise of the paschal candle refers to Christ as the "Morning Star".
This poem was inspired by the movie "Devil", where a group of strangers
were trapped on an elevator and killed off one by one by the Devil, who was
in the form of one of the mysterious strangers.
Categories:
paschal, mysteryheaven, heaven, morning, planet,
Form:
Pantoum
White lilies trumpet
star-shaped shouts
of praise
that pierce the prison
of the grave.
Yet my mood is far
from risen—
This earth seems so
un-saved.
My heart is barbed
with thorns;
the doctors say
they’re veins.
Then arteries
are vines,
vines with thorns,
I say.
April 9, 2017
for PASCHAL PREMIER Contest
Categories:
paschal, easter, heart, pain, spring,
Form:
Free verse
Earth slowly brings new light from night
Turning to face the day
Orchid sky reflects upon still water
Sparkling water gems
Birds wake calling softly
As new day is born
Rising sun gives joy to Rising son
This Paschal morning
Bringing hope to a faithless world….
Categories:
paschal, easter, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
EASTER SUNDAY
Spring goddess Eostre--Astarte--Ishtar
Hares, rabbits--Middle Eastern pagan Spring
Festivals
Eggs--Traditional Fetisvals--decorated eggs bring
happiness, prosperity, etc.
Older tradition in liturgical calendar
Pentecost, fifty-days after Easter
Seventh Sunday after Easter Sunday
We get to fifty by including Easter
Good Friday—Day of His death—First day
Holy Saturday—Second day
Easter Sunday—Jesus had risen—Third day
The Roman and church in the West,
celebrated Easter on the first Sunday
Jesus' death and Resurrection,
Fourteenth day of Nisan was after the paschal full moon
At the Council of Nicaea in three hundred twenty-five,
the Church adopted this formula
and why Easter always falls on a Sunday,
and why the date changes every year.
Easter is always celebrated on a Sunday
because Jesus rose from the dead on a Sunday
Sunday was the first day of Creation
and Christ's Resurrection was the beginning
of the new Creation—the remaking of the world
that had been damaged by
the original sin of Adam and Eve
which is why Easter always falls on a Sunday,
and why the date changes every year.
The Bible Daily & JW.org
Happy Easter!
4/17/22
Categories:
paschal, celebration, easter,
Form:
Free verse
Earth Music
The earth ever composes mystical arias for me
That taste the splendor of rolling thunder,
To touch the silent metronomes of lyric waves
That hypnotize my presto pulse in movements perpetual.
The sounds of earth…
Earth music arranges lively spinning scarazzos
In magic lines for my inspiration
To scent the shades of pastel pitch
And reverberate in paschal hues of dawn and dusk.
The music of my soul
Revolving earth ever sings new scores in spheres
That resolve discordant tones of atonality
In rumbling fault zones that move to nascent reality
Paeans, chants, in deep river waterfalls drumming.
The sounds of earth….
Earth music hums in timorous rotation with me
To resound in the harmony of celestial orbits
Tuned, tuned into, tremulous tones in shadows and storms
With a tuning fork of vibrating seasons.
The music of my soul
The earth ever writes solos of meadows for me
Sunlight’s bright vibratos skipping with energy
In the fragrance of fragrant harp strings
Plucked like wildflowers of whispering flutes
The sounds of earth…
Earth music performs the music of my soul
Grace notes, once in the grip of apathy,
Voice the sweetness of cricket canticles
In the symphony of my soul.
Earth music for my soul
8-9-22
Categories:
paschal, earth, music,
Form:
Free verse
We want to heal-
scab stealers wont allows us too
sneaking up on us-
giving us new busy work
side trackers –
killing us
the only hope we had left
invested in our progeny.
progenitors
Our children become our ancestors
Arrested -
Denied freedom.
assaulted,
Degrading us our offspring.
They make examples out of noble men.
Leaders not knowing what day will
be their personal doomsday while
They recite a healing prayer on balconies
Thinking “is this my end”.
"As they risk healing folks in large crowds with
un-trusted friends watching their backs
Let me get these words in As
We begin to heal from
the power of love.
These "scab thieves’ who snatch
scabs off the old wounds.
Create and open new wounds,
As they dare us to heal.
We fall to the ground.
as the targets keep
Dropping they
Kill the mighty to
Control the weak.
We are angry -No time to heal -
Angry People
Bopping ignorant
Pop ups- Bobble heads, popping up
like bobble heads at a carnival.
We needed the big black men-
who soon after that
Perplexed us
Who were they that stood
on Hunter street?
In front of Paschal Brothers
Over near "Don Clendenin’s"
surrendering
Waving White hankies
at tricks and enemies
We are bleeding now...
The scab makers are winning
where and from wince –
Do they come from?
or go to?
Wall Street or colleges-
White collar preppies-
promoting separate causes.
We still chant
Free Mandela
“we loved him too
They all were gone
to the grave or to prison.
Many wounds open
blood everywhere.
Perplexed.
Things fall apart again in...2013
2013 is here.
We are still with open wounds
Remember now wonder
can we heal if they?
keep re-opening our wounds.
My tolerance is no more for
nincompoops and
Poot—butts, chastising
Empresses and Kings.
Knowing nothing....
While pulling off scabs
Who am I, if I lose focus?
There will be no us-
So, I relent,
Leaving them where
they are - or at least
where I found them!
I really feel that until I die
I have a connection to someone’s
future I have wounds to heal.
I must remember-
“I cannot get angry for you”,
Lest I get stuck fighting your battle.
“I will get angry with you”
I will fight aside of you.
Categories:
paschal, emotions, horror, how i
Form:
Blank verse
As a faith community it’s a living presence,
a gift of everyone inclined to give worship –
praise and glory to God, the source of life;
who champions holiness and reason to love.
The throbbing chapters of human struggles
brought to the fore like a key to understand;
their implications to one’s quest of wisdom,
generate a response to God’s living sacrifice.
It’s a sublime action, a thought of obedience,
when one partakes of God in our Lord Jesus;
he remains with him throughout his very life,
and promises him the gift of everlasting life.
At the eucharist described as a special event;
God in Jesus who shows his true flesh and drinks,
like an ambrosia that provides life eternity,
immortality or never-ending journey to immortality.
It’s a sacred meal, a community affair indeed,
celebrating the paschal meal – a thanksgiving!
Jesus, whose great love for us to be saved,
reminds humanity of his promise for eternity.
It’s a journey within, a deep encounter with him,
As he said, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son
of man and drink his blood, you do not have
life within you.”
an invitation that opens the door to everyone;
to become Christ-like in every act of life.
Categories:
paschal, family, inspirational, god, community,
Form:
Pastoral