Long Gethsemane Poems
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The Church of All Nations
Therein at Mount Olivet in Jerusalem,
Where eight aged, gnarled olive trees are pressed for oil,
People of faith the world over come to accoil
And pray for mercy in atonement for their transgressions.
And worship the Lord in the Church of All Nations,
Located in the Garden of Gethsemane,
Across the Brook Kidron, o’er the Rock of Agony,
Where Christ did sweat blood, praying to God in heaven.
Under the twelve-domed roof basilica structure,
Light filters through purplish alabaster windows
On believers at the altar making vows,
And Christians at Mass of all denominations.
Where years earlier on an infamous spring night
(Before the church was built and the olive trees planted),
Jesus prayed while his disciples slept and was betrayed
By a kiss on the cheek by Judas Iscariot.
Then falsely arrested for blasphemy against God
By a crowd sent from the Sanhedrin to hunt him down.
Peter drew his sword and was rebuked by the Lord
In scripture fulfillment as the mob took Christ away.
Then all forsook Him and fled (even one naked
Whose linen cloth was torn from his body as he ran).
Peter followed at a distance and remembered Him saying,
“Before the cock crows, thrice you shall deny me.”
In this world of commerce, it’s easy to dismiss
God the Father and God Incarnate unblemished.
Those olive trees attest to Jesus’s existence,
The Trinity, and His promise of forgiveness.
***
References:
Matthew 26.
Mark 14.
Luke22.
John 13: 31-38 and John 18.
Judas led the priests, and most of the elders to see
Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane.
A very large crowd carrying swords and clubs would be
waiting for a signal from Judas. They were ready.
Judas kissed Jesus who asked, “Here’s how you betray me?”
Drawing a sword, Simon Peter who was standing near
Slashed at one of the priests’ servants and cut off his ear.
Jesus then stopped Peter, and the following he would say:
“Those who live by the sword, die by it. Put it away!
Then Jesus said to the crowd that was standing around:
“You believe I lead a rebellion? That’s what you’ve found?
In the temple courtyard, it was me whom you would see.
Every day I was teaching, you would never touch me.
This is the fulfillment of the Scriptures’ prophecy.
Please let these other men go, if you only want me.”
As Jesus was arrested, the disciples would flee.
To the high priest Caiaphas is where Jesus would be.
Matthew chapter 26
Mark chapter 14
Luke chapter 22
John chapter 18
amid the bleats of lambs
and the moo of cows
in a far away manger
a baby, swaddled in rags was born
though despicable in some eyes,
He was the clone of Clones
the one, though Heaven sent,
was the humblest of the humble,
who halved history!
He walked the hills of Judea
with disciples many
healed the sick
met people
lived one among them
until three decades
and three years
the cloud laden sky
suddenly turned dark
the spirit of evil
invaded inside
and outside
premonitions
of portentous occurrence!!
at Gethsemane
the fatal rendezvous,
He sweated blood
as coins tinkled,
Judas through a kiss
betrayed his master
was sentenced
by the marshals of power
and was convicted
Pontius Pilate, washing hands,
absolved himself of his guilt
He tottered to Calvary,
lay on the cross, not by nails
but pinned by love
He poured down love
on those never deserved
to his love, there is no end...
among the hisses of revulsion
and the screams of a vengeful crowd
the tremulous cadence
of an agonized cry
“why hast Thou forsaken me?”
died down…..
did Golgotha’s cliffs echo that cry?
The Father kept ‘an aggressive silence’
The Sun (Son) set at noon
darkness shrouded the Earth
the curtain fell
but on the 3rd day
walked out of the grave
defeating Death and Sin!
Our Lord has Risen….!
to this day
the world
hails this victory!!
______________________
Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Regina McIntosh
Take His hand, He’ll be your sight,
Guide you through your darkest night,
For what now seems to be a wall,
Standing impenetrable, tall,
Cannot hide you from His light.
He feels the pain you’re going through
But He is standing right by you
Let His presence quell your fear
Feel His Spirit drawing near
Rest in His love, His love so dear
Don’t look behind , don’t look ahead
Just fix your eyes on Him instead
Learn to trust, don’t let Him go,
For you must always, always know,
Just how much He loves you so.
He came to teach, He came to give
To show you how to really live
The Father sent His only Son,
For Father, Son are truly One,
Their constant love will overcome.
You are entrusted with His grace
So never turn away your face
He is the shepherd who will save
The lost and broken when they stray
Stay close to Him and walk His way.
He brings hope to the oppressed
He whispers peace to the depressed
To the tired and overburden, He gives rest
To those that fall behind he says
“ Come walk with Me to better days”
He shed tears In Gethsemane
Sweated blood in mental agony
Yet accepted, with humility,
The suffering that lay ahead
The crown of thorns upon his head
The cross to which he would be led.
Rejection at the hands of those
Some who followed, some He chose,
Seeking shadows as the cockerel crows.
Those Whom he'd come, in love. to save
Once waving palms, now fists of rage
Sought to consign Him to a grave.
Christ made the greatest sacrifice
Upon a cross, he lost his life
They took his broken body down
Then laid Him in a burial gown
Yet In three days another crown
Rested on the risen Saviour’s brow.
He waits for you, He longs to see ,
The chains of sin and guilt fall free
The Father, Son and Spirit three
The Blessed Holy Trinity
Will free you from your earthly ties
Let your soul, your spirit, rise
Live with Him in Paradise........
Jesus and his disciples entered Gethsemane.
The Mount of Olives in the night’s darkness they would be.
Near him were Peter, and the two sons of Zebedee
He would feel troubled, sorrowful, and filled with ennui.
Jesus asked John and James, “Will you stay awake with me?
Please stay up and keep watch. I know you are quite sleepy.”
He moved a short distance from where the others would stay
Jesus would kneel down to the ground, and started to pray:
“For it shall be Your will, and forever from today.
Father, if it’s possible, please take this cup away.”
Jesus looked up into the heavens and then would say:
“Father, time has come. I know there is little to do.
Give your son praise to let all know the God that is true.
To grant eternal life to all those who may know You.
I have completed the work. It is totally through.
In revealing Your name to all those whom You gave me,
they now believe and accept You. They can plainly see
I came from the true God. I was sent with certainty.
I do not pray for the world, but for those who know me.
Soon I’ll be coming to You. It’s near my last hour.
Father, I ask you to protect them with Your power.
I protected them when I was with them, as You willed
None have been lost so that the Scripture would be fulfilled.
While I am still in the world, I am saying these things.
May they have the joy and pleasure knowledge of You brings.
I’ve given them Your word, and the world has hated them.
Please keep them, and protect them from evil’s stratagem.
They are all not of this world, any more than I am.
In all the truth and goodness within You, they’ll confide.
By Your word that is the truth, may they be sanctified.
I pray not only for them, but for those who follow
In order to keep them all as one, as You they’ll know.
Let them have the glory that You allowed them to see.
Knowledge of You I shall spread in perpetuity.
May all the world be brought into complete unity.
Let them be one as I in them, and as You in me.
Afterglow
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
The night is full of stars. Which still exist?
Before time ends, perhaps one day we’ll know.
For now I hold your fingers to my lips
and feel their pulse ... warm, palpable and slow ...
once slow to match this reckless spark in me,
this moon in ceaseless orbit I became,
compelled by wilder gravity to flee
night’s universe of suns, for one pale flame ...
for one pale flame that seemed to signify
the Zodiac of all, the meaning of
Love’s wandering flight past Neptune. Now to lie
in dawning recognition is enough ...
enough each night to bask in you, to know
the face of love ... eyes closed ... its afterglow.
The Insurrection of Sighs
by Michael R. Burch
She was my Shiloh, my Gethsemane;
she nestled my head to her breast
and breathed upon my insensate lips
the fierce benedictions of her ubiquitous sighs,
the veiled allegations of her disconsolate tears . . .
Many years I abided the agile assaults of her flesh . . .
She loved me the most when I was most sorely pressed;
she undressed with delight for her ministrations
when all I needed was a good night’s rest . . .
She anointed my lips with her soft lips’ dews;
the insurrection of sighs left me fallen, distressed, at her elegant heel.
I felt the hard iron, the cold steel, in her words and I knew:
the terrible arrow showed through my conscripted flesh.
The sun in retreat left her victor and all was Night.
The last peal of surrender went sinking and dying—unheard.
Star Crossed
by Michael R. Burch
Remember—
night is not like day;
the stars are closer than they seem ...
now, bending near, they seem to say
the morning sun was merely a dream
ember.
The State of the Art (?)
by Michael R. Burch
Has rhyme lost all its reason
and rhythm, renascence?
Are sonnets out of season
and poems but poor pretense?
Are poets lacking fire,
their words too trite and forced?
What happened to desire?
Has passion been coerced?
Shall poetry fade slowly,
like Latin, to past tense?
Are the bards too high and holy,
or their readers merely dense?
The most sorrowful and gruesome story ever told
begins with the man who crossed the waters and heights
carrying thirty and some unquenchable suns on his head,
the man who walked in the rain and wind with thirty and more moons on his shoulders.
For he looked like a slim and tender early spring shoot
that is rooted out from a rough and dry soil, and, therefore,
having no beauty to attract others, he was rejected;
having no majesty worth honoring or respect, he was despised;
and because he was acquainted with no comfort but suffering
he was ousted to the hill named Skull at last under pouring lashes with a cross on his back.
Although the stories of his own that he told to the mountains were sad and painful, and written on the waters were sorrowful and lamentable, he enabled to hold himself by the faith he held
in his friends who were always close by and shared a day’s burden with him. Although the cup he took at Gethsemane was bitter and stringent, it enabled him to take it through friendship
he was reassured through a broken piece of bread and a cup of wine he shared with them, surrounding the last banquet table
that is beautifully shaded in red from the color of setting sun.
It seemed impossible though,
under a most disgraced humiliation,
he gave out himself to the pain that was unbearable,
he upheld a wooden pillar high in air with the spike pierced hands and feet at the hill called Skull. And it was possible only because he held warm memories in his heart, the remembrance
of a loaf of bread he broke and dipped a piece in the reddened evening sun and drank it from the one same cup with his beloved friends.
After a man of such tragic life has gone,
after a man who lived through such distasteful life had left,
the most sorrowful and gruesome story ever told ended as a tale that year after year,
since then, the man returns as a dew-landed lonely lily
in an early April morning on the other side of the footmarks
he left behind, smeared with a drop of blood darker than
the sunset ray.
"Not my will, but thine be done".
Though his mortal flesh was weak,
Yet these words God's only Son
In his darkest hour did speak.
True obedience demands
That we oft repeat this prayer -
Doing all the Lord commands,
Giving him our every care.
Like the prodigal, my choice
Is to fly to foreign lands,
Heeding not the Father's voice:
"Child, thy life is in my hands".
Having spent what was not earned,
Living recklessly and rude -
To the father's love returned
And his will again pursued.
Make my will and thine the same,
Cause this selfish heart to yield.
It is for such hearts Christ came,
By his stripes such hearts are healed.
Though he be my only friend,
Still my soul upon him leans -
Though I cannot see the end,
I must trust him with the means.
We like sheep have gone astray
From the path the Lord has willed.
Each has turned to his own way
And for such, Christ's blood was spilled.
Asking, "Father fashion me
In the image of thy Son” -
May my sole petition be,
"Not my will but thine be done".
A Maundy Thursday meditation on Christ in the garden of Gethsemane - Matthew 26:39
Upon the cross, He hung in pain,
His body broken, His spirit strained.
The weight of sin upon His frame,
In agony, He took the blame.
The sky grew dark, the earth did quake,
Creation wept for His dear sake.
Betrayed by one, denied by three,
Alone He faced Gethsemane.
In silence, He embraced the night,
As tears fell down like drops of light.
"My God, my God," His anguished cry,
Echoed beneath the darkened sky.
But in His death, redemption found,
For in the grave, hope did abound.
For on the third day, He arose,
Conquering death, our greatest foes.
Though sorrow lingers, hope remains,
In Christ's sacrifice, our sins He stains.
So let us weep, yet not despair,
For in His love, He's always there.
If you go to the sea...
please throw in a stone for me...
for then the ripples that follow travel to where the earth bleeds...
They wash over the pain...
travel back around again...
coming back as the tide with lost souls of the slain...
I’ll carry them with me...
until the day that I die...
and that alone old friend explains the look in my eyes...
When you start to cry...
and your tears come like a flood...
let them fall into an ocean that pays for all the blood...
Sea paper scissor stones...
a game we all know...
but they’re playing with a hand that makes us all miss a go...
We are all to blame...
when the wild cannons roar...
if we really wanted peace then we’d open up that door...
We could one day stay in bed...
fill the money men with dread...
for if we weren’t turning the cogs the machine would lay dead...
Oh we won’t hear your lies...
we won’t care what you say...
leave you bloody in your sorrow praying for yesterday...
Now are you done making martyrs...
for a news paper fix...
as you twist the words of one who writhes on your crucifix...
No you couldn’t just hear him...
as one speaking of love...
no you had to write a book that rains down fire from above...
Yes you kill all our prophets..
and corrupt all their seeds...
no not a lot has changed since old Gethsemane...
But I know what you fear...
you can’t keep the soul down...
and one day in our voices your dark souls will drown...
I hope we’ll come to see...
that we we're all born free...
and all you’ve got to do to get it back is throw away your greed...
So when you’re standing on the shore...
watching the sun go down...
sing this song and throw your stone and watch the waves come back around...
All rights reserved by the author
©David Nickle Read 2015