HAPPY EASTER!
Simply, write an Easter poem. Your piece can be faith based, as it is the biggest day in the Christian church calendar. Or it can be a secular Easter poem bringing to mind chocolate rabbits, colored eggs and such. You can pen a poem of rebirth, or a poem about coming back from a set back.
MARIE ELENA’S POEM
Risen, Indeed!
Pondering the blood-drenched tree There but for His mercy, me Tear-stained face, I bow the knee Hallelujah! He is risen! Low, for me His blood was drained Love entombed, yet not contained Absolution, as ordained Hallelujah! He is risen! © Copyright Marie Elena – 2013 Image credit: http://joyknitcrochet.blogspot.com/2011/01/egg-cracking-expert.htmlWALT’S POEM:
THE HUNT IS ON!
Woven baskets brightly colored,
hidden in the thicket, near the picket
fence. Let the search commence.
Scurrying under the privet,
bunny rabbits head for cover
and over by the gate the children
take a peek for the prizes they seek.
Services have concluded but the thrill
has not eluded these excited souls.
The hunt is on, let the fun begin!
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
I haven’t got enough of the line messaging form yet, so here’s another! 🙂
He’s Risen!
Another Sunday morning:
I’m tired, I wanna go back to bed!
What’s the big deal?
So, it’s Easter, so what?
Oh foolish, simple mind, don’t you
Hear the bells ringing?
Why are you so wrapped up in yourself?
Today’s the brightest day of the year!
Don’t you hear the choir? A host of angels,
They’re singing.
Get up! Look around:
Today’s the day your Savior rose;
Today’s the day your are made whole!
Haven’t you heard
That He’s risen from the dead?
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
Independent message:
“Hear the bells ringing, they’re singing that He’s risen from the dead…” from “Easter Song” written by Annie Herring (one of the greatest Christian song writers that has ever lived!).
“…Hear the bells ringing…” 🙂
Nicely done Erin – love Anne Herring too.
Thanks, David! She’s definitely amazing.
Erin, I posted my poem before I saw yours. The same song inspired us both. ;-D
Wow, that’s quite a coincidence, Sheryl! We just sang it today as part of our worship service.
Erin, I have to get that song for our praise band and/or choir. I loved the way your poem had a musical feel to it, as well. And what a coincidence about you and Sheryl! Peace, Amy
Thanks, Amy! I’m glad you liked it! 🙂
Yes! Hear the bells ringing!! Rejoice, rejoice!!
Rejoice indeed! Thanks, Marie! 🙂
Lovely one, Erin. Kudos again.
Thank you, Claudsy! 🙂
You’re welcome, Erin.
Beautiful, Meg… delightful, Walt!! Happy Easter everyone! 🙂
Easter Basket
Fill
your Life
with the Joy
of things that you
Love. 🙂
Aw! Sweet!
🙂 !! Thanks, Erin!!
Very sweet! Hugs to you, Hen!
Aww… Hugs to you too, Meg, Thank you!!
Happy Easter, all! Marie, I love that second line, yes! Walt, suddenly the thrill of child-wonder returns!
He is Alive
If we had been there at on that day
To watch them take His body down
And then heard His disciples say
‘He is not here now, but is risen’
If we had seen with our own eyes
The guards that watched the stone sealed grave
Would we like Thomas, have replied
When I see Him I will believe?
We will be here on That Day
When Jesus’ Grace and Glory rends
The sky; like the veil, done away
Then, as His Majesty descends
We will see with our own eyes
The One who died to set us free
God is not dead; HE IS ALIVE
When we see Him, all will believe
© Janet Martin
Janet, one of the questions I always ask teens and preteens in my Sunday School is: Would you give up your Smart Phone? Drop it on the ground to follow Jesus? How would you know he was the real deal? Will it take fire and brimstone… or will you temper your time on your phone, take time each day to turn off all the noise and pray? Thomas gets a bad rap… but, like Judas, he is a necessary part of the story. He fesses up to his incredulity. Same with the Magdalene… cast by men a thousand years later as a prostitute, a woman at the well, possessed by demons and cured… but never given credit as the first real leader of The Way.
Talk about food for thought! Thanks, Janet. Amy
Yes, beautiful!
Beautiful, Janet!!
And all will bow the knee. BEAUTIFUL, Janet.
[…] by Poetic Bloomings Prompt #101: Which came first, the rabbit or the egg? (An Easter Poem). Posted for day 30in 100 Days of Spring […]
ROLLING STONE
(a piku)
Sign of life
on
Easter morning.
2013-03-31
P. Wanken
Oh, Paula! A perfect, perfect Piku! AMEN!!
Yes!
Love it. Short and to the sweet point
EASTER
Some say that love cannot be defined.
It’s too complex for logic minds
To comprehend, so we love in our time
Here, groping our way like the blind.
But love is not beyond definition.
When Jesus gave Himself to crucifixion
And then rose in Easter resurrection,
He defined true love: the absence of sin.
#
This is lovely, Sal! True and lovely.
The true definition, indeed. If only we would all recognize it. Thank you, Sal!
Wow…
WHO IS LAUGHING NOW?
Why is Jesus laughing today
on this Easter Monday?
Satan sits in fiery pits,
Fuming with anger
Because he hoped the Lord’s Promise
would be broken on the cross.
The king of the fallen angels
Must continue to bow
Before God and this hurts like hell.
#
Sal. This could best be described as wickedly funny. Satan, the fallen angel, filled with envy, I suspect, as he watches Jesus, the favored one and Son, take all the arrows with a smile. Unique and amazing… just like you! Amy
Good one, Sal!
Love it!!
MARIE ELENA! That is an excellent poem you’ve written.
Wishing you and Walt and everyone here who celebrates it a very happy Easter.
Thank you so much, Linda! Same to you and yours!
Something from days gone by, but always applicable:
I Am Crucified
My Jesus sacrificed His life in my stead
Beaten and scorned, with thorns on His head
Nailed to a cross until He was dead
The innocent blood of the Lamb was shed
Laid in a grave, my Lord left alone
Three days later, He moved the stone
Revealed to the world the truth He had sewn
The sins of the world, my Jesus atoned
The sins of the world include yours and mine
All taken by Jesus, the Way, the Vine
All part of God’s plan, His holy design
That we could live on and let His light shine
So, I’ve made the choice that I may be
Crucified with Christ, the One who saved me
No longer do I live, but Christ lives in me
His sacrifice made, that I might be set me free
The life that I had, I have given away
Christ lives in my heart, and there He will stay
By faith, I let Him guide my life every day
I trust in His wisdom to show me the way
And another AMEN! Alleluia!
“…By faith, I let Him guide my life every day…” good words!
Beautiful wisdom, Earl!!! We just sang a song in Sunday: “I’ve been crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ who lives in me…” Your poem reminded me of it so much.
His Resurrection
As He looked down at those who came to watch,
He could not help but wonder why
They could not see who they were crucifying.
They did not realize who was about to die?
“King of the Jews” He’d been called in jest.
They’d hung a sign above His head.
They didn’t realize just how right they were,
But they’d find out when He was dead.
For they knew not this man named Jesus Christ.
Though the scriptures had made it very clear.
The prophets had written about His birth and death
And that explained why some people were here.
Others were here just to see this man die,
They didn’t even care about His crime.
This crucifixion they didn’t want to miss,
His death would surely change the course of time.
Some couldn’t believe that He was still alive,
After all the cruelty He’d been through.
No human deserved to be treated that way,
Even the soldiers had pity on this Jew.
Still a few knew exactly who Jesus Christ was,
And they were here to be a witness
To the end of the Hope that the Lord God had sent.
To the beginning of salvation’s righteousness.
But as Jesus looked down, He looked down with love
And He asked His Father to forgive.
Forgive those who had crucified God’s only son,
Forgive them, so they, too, may live.
As He gave up the ghost on that old rugged cross
No longer did this world hold perfection.
The world went dark as the Light was extinguished
And it stayed dark until His resurrection.
Earl, although your poem is entirely taking place in the time of the actual crucifixion, isn’t it ironic that today, notorious prisoners (and that’s how many people thought of Jesus) get huge crowds near the jails at the time of their executions? Even clamor for showing them on TV.
We never learn. And here’s this man suffering on a cross, asking God to forgive them. If that isn’t a lesson in sacrifice and humility, nothing is. Well done, Earl. I wrote one, too, but it’s different in theme… Peace, Amy
“The world went dark as the Light was extinguished
And it stayed dark until His resurrection.”
That says so much. And Amy is so very right: “We never learn. And here’s this man suffering on a cross, asking God to forgive them. If that isn’t a lesson in sacrifice and humility, nothing is.”
AMEN.
… this touched me…
Oh wonderful!!! Your last two stanzas are so powerful!
BLOOD
The price of sin is blood,
an ancient law which
has never been revoked.
How much blood
to cover my sins,
your sins,
the sins of a world?
The blood of the world,
your blood,
mine?
No.
The price has been paid —
in full, for all — by one man,
nailed to a cross
and bled,
bled until his fluids
ran clear.
The blood of a man,
dead on a Friday,
risen as Son of God
on Sunday.
Blood shed to pay
the price for you
and me.
Mark, this was visceral, direct, and there is no doubt about where you stand in relation to Christ. Thank you for your testament. I feel as though, every day, we of the Christian faith write our own small gospels by our words and actions. Peace, Amy
That is a great way of looking at it Amy. I wonder how many of those Gospels would be rejected by the Church?
Thanks, Mark. Well, considering the fact that they threw out gospels from Mary Magdalene (didn’t want to show her being the first teacher of the disciples, among other things) and Thomas (mentioned Jesus kissing Mary M. on the mouth; also spoke of her teachings), and others, I have a feeling we wouldn’t stand a chance. We sometimes have writings from Gandhi, Dietrich Bonhoffer, Mother Teresa, Dr. King, Malcolm X, et al, in our worship. I’m just musing now over the idea of the Gospels of Hagee and Falwell, yikes!
How wonderful to hear your voice again, Mark. Thank you for this poetically stated truth!
Yes, it is good to read your words again, Mark!
Thank you both, it is good to be around. Going back to being self-employed has made life exceedingly busy lately and finding time to write is a challenge. But, thankful to be busy, better than the alternative.
Wow! This is amazing, Mark! How thankful it makes me…
Blessed Easter to all!
Cross on a Hill
By David De Jong
A lone cross shadows the valley below
Its arms outstretched facing the storms that blow
Fashioned a dark, drizzled, early Spring day
Rough beams of wood, with everything to say
With hammer and chisel, cold tools of steel
Each driving blow made me wince with the feel
Tears flowed freely leaving stains in the grain
Hammering the nails causing all His pain
All alone as one abandoned by God
Rendering this symbolic monopod
Once finished I planted it in the earth
It took all of my strength all I was worth
I placed it facing the storms and the winds
This symbol of forgiveness from our sins
My heart emptied securing it in place
All I could see was the look on His face
I begged relief, forgiveness of my past
He brought me grace, hope, true peace that will last
I trod the fields to gather varied stone
Each represents a burden of my own
Placed with prayer at the foot of this cross
My trials my burdens left in the dross
Nothing can move them placed there in His name
He carries me, taking my guilt, my shame
I drove His nails I wove His crown of thorns
I led the crowd with shouts and deathly scorns
I lashed the whip across His ravaged back
I took His life but He didn’t ask it back
Instead He gives me life, life so complete
A life where my Savior washes my feet
When I go to visit this humble place
It still stirs my heart, His amazing grace
I think of the grave, the stone rolled away
How that stone really wasn’t in His way
It was moved, so we could see deep inside
Christ the Lord has Risen! In Him Abide!
David, for me, this evokes the shame we all feel when, as a congregation during the Passion Play, we are all yelling, “Crucify him!” A startlingly personal look at the passion, the crucifixion. Your remark about how he didn’t need the stone moved says it all. It was, as everything else in the Gospels, done for US. Peace, Amy
My heart is racing, David. This should be set to music, and sung regularly, though I know I could never make it through without my throat closing and my eyes so filled with tears that I could not see the words. Much like Stewart Townend’s “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us.”
How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
And make a wretch His treasure
How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory
Behold the Man upon the cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished.
I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
One of my favorites, Marie. Not long ago, our choir sang “When You Prayed Beneath the Trees,” a beautiful poem in its own right and a beautiful melody. Lent and Easter really fill up our emotions, hm?
They certainly do, Jane. ❤
“It was my sin that held Him there” gets me every time.
Thanks Marie
Yes, yes, Marie…one of my favorites too. It is personal and it is a reply, a deeply honest response to Christ on that cross.
Lovely story behind his writing of this hymn…
… go to http://www.stuarttownend.co.uk/song/how-deep-the-fathers-love-for-us/ for a look.
Thank you, Damon. I never knew the story behind it. Wow…
This is beautiful.
David, your poems always bring oceans of comfort and peace to me. This is an incredible poem! Thank you, my friend!
There are so many wonderful poets/writers that share their hearts, their pains, their joys, their hopes here. They make me laugh and some draw tears, tears of pain and tears of spiritual koinonia (I have no clue how to spell that word). I feel blessed to be welcomed and to be a part of it. Walt a Marie have created a truly special place. It is I that thank you young grasshopper.
In my walk with Jesus, the avenue we travel is very wide, totally inclusive, and… what I need to give the world. Love to all, Happy Pesach and Easter to those who follow the twin paths, dictated by the moon’s cycle. Love, Amy
Nothing to Prove
Don’t need miracles
Loaves and fishes;
Lazarus wishes
Don’t need purity,
a Virgin birth
for his time on earth
Don’t need witnesses
Kings from far away
God’s voice on baptism day
Don’t need him calm
He threw over tables
Taught radical fables
Didn’t need a temple
Homeless by choice
Folks understood his voice
All I need is his example
His hand stretched out to the poor
To street kids, to ‘untouchables’
He was real and human
Dragged his cross to Calvary
Questioned God as he hung from a tree
I don’t need resurrection
No “Mary, don’t you know me?”
No Doubting Thomas: “See?”
All these things could have happened.
If they didn’t, I would
still follow him best I could
The Way is peace, love
The Way is easy if you let it be
If you turn off the world and be free
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
If you want to see this with graphic on my blog. Thanks!
Fabulous description of my Lord! Wonderful, Amy!!
“…All is need is His example…” !!!!!
Lovely, Amy!!!!
My Mother and Me in the Easter Parade
Before she married my father, my mother
Worked for a lady who made hats. She
Had a shop on Euclid Avenue called “Miss
Hattie’s Hats” even though her name really
Wasn’t “Miss Hattie”. Her shop was on
Euclid Avenue near east 105th. . a posh
Part of Cleveland in the 1930’s.
Miss Hattie taught my mother everything
She knew about making hats. They became
Good friends and every year they looked
Forward to the Easter Parade.
On Easter Sunday afternoon, ladies from
All over Cleveland would walk up and
Down that part of Euclid avenue wearing
Their newest outfits and best hats.
Reporters from Cleveland’s 3 newspapers
Would be there and take pictures. Miss
Hattie would open her shoppe and serve
Tea and the ladies could stop and rest
For a bit. We all prayed that Easter Sunday
Would be sunny or at least not raining.
One year my mother and I were photographed
Together in front of Miss Hattie’s shoppe. I
Was wearing a navy blue straw hat with
Ribbons that fluttered down the back. My
Mother wasn’t working for Miss Hattie any
More (she stopped when she married) but
My mother and Miss Hattie remained friends.
Today that picture is yellow and brittle and
Always requires an explaination.
My grandchildren have never seen a long
Line of women, dressed in their fancy best
Posing and smiling on a windy afternoon.
My children also never understood the point of
The “Easter Parade” and when I tried to explain
I realized that there was no “point” – it was just
Something people did when they wanted to be
Part of society, perhaps in with the “in” crowd, a little
Bit more than just their lonely selves.
I love the song and Garland/Astaire movie, “Easter Parade.” They put a spin in the song “In your Easter bonnet/with all the frills upon it…” by having Judy present Fred with an embellished top hat!
I love that tradition, long since passed into “that was then.” I believe the advent of the automobile made walking down the streets less desirable… This was an intimate portrait, and lovely as well. Would love to see the photo… and why it needs explanation! Easter intrigue! Who’d’a thunk it?? Amy
Oh my. As usual, Marian, you have me right there with you. Your story is captivating, and your poignant end will stick with me a long time to come.
What a beautiful memory!!
This poem was written for Poetic Asides on April 13, 20018. We were to write a poem inspired by a song. The Easter Song is one of my favorites. Even thought it was Passover when I originally wrote it, it is an Easter poem.
The Easter Song
“Hear the bells ringing, they’re singing you can be born again.
Hear the bells ringing, they’re singing ‘Christ is risen from the dead.’…”
Victory.
Unbounded joy.
At this Passover time
I think of my Passover lamb.
His shed blood was sprinkled
on the doorposts of my heart.
The Lord has promised
He will pass over me
and all who trust in Jesus,
saving us from spiritual death.
Jesus alone could raise
Himself,
Lazarus,
Jairus’ daughter,
the widow’s son,
and one day, me.
No wonder my heart sings
when I think of this song.
“Hear the bells ringing;
I’m singing…”
This speaks deeply of your faith. I was once part of a Jewish family, and Passover was my favorite of all festivals, because so much took place in the home… Thanks! Amy
No wonder my heart sings, indeed! Thank you, Sheryl!
“…Unbounded joy…” 🙂 !
This is great, Sheryl!! I love that song!
[…] was written for Poetic Bloomings; their prompt was Easter. This is also posted at Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where I have been a […]
A Simple Remembrance
This do, he said, remember me
not just my death, my agony,
but that my life has set you free
to do God’s will.
The bowing head and bended knee
helps us recall humility
to feed our brothers faithfully
with spirit fill.
The man who suffers understands
that broken hearts and empty hands
lead one to honor God’s demands
on Calvary’s hill.
We read his words and pray he be
our guide throughout eternity,
poor lost indebted lambs are we.
He paid our bill.
On Easter, as we sing glad songs
of resurrection, we grow strong
to model Jesus’ here among
his people still.
Absolute truth spilled beautifully!
Yes…
This is beautiful, Jane! I love your writing style!
Thanks, friends. I kept tinkering with rhyme even when it was unworkable. I don’t know if this is a known form or just my tinkering again.
Jane,
perfect and just so thorough and complete. Beautiful.
Friends, my mother has been gone for ten years now, but I always reread some of her poems at Easter, one of her favorite times. I hope it’s ok to share one of her Easter poems with you today. She was a lovely woman and an old soul and I miss her ever day. Here is one of my favorites.
The Cross and I
If I had lived when Jesus lived
I wonder, which would I be?
One who responded to His call
and followed trustingly?
Or would I, doubting, have turned aside
and coldly closed my heart
and one day watch Him crucified
and never take his part?
Could I have seen His nail-pierced hands,
His anguish and agony,
and in my heart feel no remorse,
still unrepentant be?
These answers I will never know
but I do humbly vow
that I’ll try to obey His Holy Word,
and not reject Him now.
Mary Garner Craver
from Edgewood Poems
Lovely… and it does make you ask the important question.
Jane, this is beautiful, and reveals that your poetic heart was handed to you honestly. Yes, you may certainly share. And thank you so much.
Beautiful, thoughtful questions to ponder…
This is absolutely wonderful! Thanks for sharing, and I am so sorry for your loss…
Thanks Debi, Marie, Hen, and Erin. That’s the beauty of poetry: even when a poet is gone, the poetry remains to give solace. Thank God.
Well Jane, the apple did not fall far from the tree….your mother’s verse is lovely, as are your many blooms, so now I know where your passion is rooted.
Marie, your poem is as deep and beautiful as your faith.
Walt, yours “cracked” me up – sounds like the Buffalo Boy is already halfway to Dyngus Day!!! Great work, both of you. Much love from the jazz wife of pastor in flip-flops, Amy
Ames, you’re a peach. Thank you so very much for the kind, sweet words.
Flip-flops? Deconstructed sandals? I needed to give the “other” side for balance. Dyngus Day has become like “Black Friday”. It starts after Easter Dinner. Raising a cold malt beverage for the “Girl From Ithaca”! (Sorry, I have no idea where Ipanema is!)
Brazil, babe. That’s where the bossa nova was born. There’s also a wicked parody called “The Girl With Emphysema,” but I never learned the words… I’ll send you some bossa via email. Happy pussy willows and squirt guns!! (And on April Fool Day, too!) Amy
Quite honestly, every year is Dyngus Fools Day in my book. A “traditional guy” bristles at this notion. (But I will not giggle at it, Anderson!)
Because of Easter
My body will perish,
will give up its breath,
but, thou, Lord has delivered my soul from death.
What shall I fear,
the darkness, the grave?
No, Thou art the light, life everlasting you gave.
Oh, death, where is thy sting?
Thy sting is sin!
But, Thou, Lord has triumphed, it could not win
Now the grave has no victory
and death no sting.
Jesus, my Lord, gave my soul wings
And though mortal I am,
not always will be.
In a twinkling I’ll put on immortality.
Debi, this sounds like it could have been written by the Psalmist, himself. Beautiful!
I Love the flow of this…
Thank you both
Yes, Debi…there is an ebb and a flow to this that is so special. Thanks, lovely.
Beautiful, Debi!!
Walt and Marie, you served up some stunners for examples–yet again. Mine may seem dark than usual, but it came from the image that ran rampant through my mind at the reading of the prompt. It was two images layered, one over the other–one ancient, one recent from the news. That was what spoke to me and that is what I wrote. Please don’t give up reading until you’ve read it all, and then let me know if you think I missed a point. Okay?
New World
A street ablaze
With anger, hatred,
Flows with intent
Based on fear of
Self-rebuke.
Amid shouting
Turmoil staggers a
Man, bent and torn,
Flogged by the day’s
Woes and struggles.
Time’s acceptance
Surrounds his mind,
Cushions his sense
Of purpose and life,
For the sake of all.
His road ends
At a pinnacle,
Where others wait;
His last words here
Echo down time.
Self-rebuke,
Woes and struggles
For the sake of all,
Echo down time.
Rejoice, cry legions
Of those working
Toward love’s peace;
Rejoice in having a
Voice of power to hear!
As always, verse is open to interpretation by the reader. That’s a given.
I love this, especially because it puts a contemporary face on Jesus for me. (Open to interpretation, right? wink) Having been a radical, a prisoner of conscience subject to a mock trail and then executed by the State makes him a perfectly current figure to me. Amy
Thanks, Amy. I’m so glad that I didn’t hit too far off the mark. I’m glad you liked it.
Spot on, in my way of thinking. Smartly written, Clauds. And so touching.
Yes, you have bridged the two, Clauds…
Thanks, Hen. I’m always glad to know that I haven’t swung too far from a mark.
I think I got it…but even if I didn’t, you know I love it! 🙂 It is so descriptive and speaks volumes to me. Thanks for sharing, Clauds!
Thank you, Erin. You probably got it. It was thinly disguised. And you’re welcome.
A Peep Is Born
Born a Peep,
he did not cheep,
but a sunny yellow
was this bright fellow.
: )
Aww! Adorable!
Thanks, Marie!
Darling!!
Thanks, Hen!
So cute!!
Thanks, Erin!
A little clunky but the best I can do after driving all day. Hope everyone had a happy Easter.
Easter Poem
Ruff and tumble carpenter man
Came so humbly as the Lord’s plan
Healed the sick, anointed to preach
At lake’s shore taught, he could sure teach
Though man tried they couldn’t find God
Fell short of the measuring rod
Needed someone to seek God’s face
Missing piece placed to give peace place
When folks really listened they knew
He’s the answer and question, too.
Jesus is the addends and sum
As the whys came forth, the wise come
When Jesus died at hands of men
His followers looked foolish then
But three days hence proved to be wise
When the Son rose with the Sunrise
“When the Son rose with the Sunrise” is pure poetry. Amen! Alleluia !
Ditto!
“… died at hands of men…” 😦 !!!
Divinum Mysterium
So much of what I hear I doubt—
so many charlatans call out
to swell the crowds and win their praise.
I am not easy to amaze.
My scientific brain has ways
of reasoning with mystery.
And what I know of history
reveals that human destiny
is stories gnarled with tangled hope.
Who doesn’t love a poet’s scope
to twist a tale so people cope
with elements we can’t believe:
a virgin can our lord conceive
who conquers death so we receive
the bounty of eternity?
I struggle every day to see
the gift in God’s paternity,
the broken bread and lifted cup.
I seek humility and sup
in wonder at Christ’s rising up
and from an empty tomb, my eyes
are dazzled with what mystifies—
moments of loving sacrifice:
suspended disbelief is mine.
In God spirit and flesh combine;
we struggle seeking the divine
in us, profound unknowns align
to raise me up, to make Him mine.
This has my eyes misty, and my heart full.
Wonderful, Jane.
That last stanza!
Oh gosh, what a way you have with those words, what a mighty pen you wield! This brought me shame, courage, and strength all at once. Thanks so much!
Thanks, Marie, Hen, and Erin.
Yes, Jane, you anchored it all with that last stanza. I do ‘sup in wonder’ at His provision in grace and mercy.
The Fall & Rise of a Dreamer
The Dreamer was a quiet man; he’d lived a quiet life.
Ensconced in his own world, his sanctuary, his mind,
His imagination, his dreams. He followed his own path
On the outside looking in. The world held no place for him;
His kind were never invited to life’s family picnic
Perhaps he was mad he’d thought to himself.
Nay! Said to himself, he always thought aloud.
Conversations with the inner-man, the mind.
A sign of madness surely. He had no time for reality,
It hurt too much. It stung, it burned, it froze his soul.
Came a day he saw a light. He saw the way, the future.
He stepped forth into the bright new dawn.
He enthralled those around him with his charm and wit.
He wrote, he sang, he danced, he laughed.
And the great and the good laughed WITH him.
Inside still he harboured a fear never to be voiced:
They would turn as vicious spiteful serpents do.
They would cut him down from his new found glory.
They would ridicule, belittle and laugh once more – AT him.
Hush now! The voice inside, lest you wish the joy away!
Came the day he’d dreaded most – the betrayal.
They turned, they scorned, the whispered jeers.
Face to face all sweetness and light and lies.
The sugar-coated poison cut deeper than the truth.
The truth they would not speak in words aloud.
The truth showed plain in gesture, act and deed-
They meowed and purred still in his sight.
But scratched and clawed and bit hard behind his back.
They pushed him once more into the cavern of darkness.
And there he sat alone, in thought, in pain, in his dreams again.
But they knew him not, for he was stronger than they could see.
Try, try, try again! He scoffed and crushed the feeble spider ‘neath his boot!
He rolled away the stone and stepped forth into the bright new dawn.
And proclaimed: “I am here, I will not leave, I will not hide!”
You! You will see that I feel no pain nor will I feel mercy!
And so he rose, growing from strength to strength.
And the cold and callous shrunk away sneering still.
Their fear was of no concern, the loyal, the true, the trusted –
They still stood proud at his side. They held sword-guard at his back.
They proclaimed in a clamour:“He is risen!. His dreams you won’t deny!”
Iain
Oh. My. Word.
Captivating, Iain, from title to finale.
Wow.
Absolutely!!
Wonderful, Iain, as usual!!
Thank you Marie Elena, Hen & Erin 🙂
Easter Precious
Her patent leather Mary Janes
enhance the frilly turned-down sock
matching her dress’s crinoline,
the swirly skirt and ribboned bow
tied in the back like a bouquet.
Her floral bonnet catches light
a country garden on her curls.
It’s only right to catch the eye
of any Bunny passing by with
eggs and peeps and pastel toys,
even the eyes of little boys.
How sweet! We used to wear Mary Jane’s to school as part of our uniform (now we wear Saddle Oxford’s). This reminded me of that.
How sweet is this!!
Oh, Jane … this is so very adorable. Made me smile.
Our Sins Rose With Him
Alone, forsaken, He hung there,
Surrounded my sinners:
The ones He loved,
The ones He hung there for.
He cried our, “My God, my God,
Why have You forsaken Me?”
He prayed He’d take the cup away,
Still He was obedient into death.
We, standing there could not see
The point; we didn’t know,
Or didn’t care,
We hid our faces from Him;
God laid our iniquity upon His Son.
Even those closest to Him couldn’t see,
They’d heard His words,
Never really understood,
Until that third day
When He rose, and all the dead rose with Him.
He ascended from hell to Heaven,
And all the dead rose with Him
To glory; because He has risen
From the dead, and our sins rose with Him.
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
Wow, Erin…
Thanks! That second line is supposed to say “by sinners”. 🙂
Amen, Erin.
seeking
forgiveness, hope and love
finding
Love it.
Metamorphosis
Snow melt and gentle rains
clean the earth and turn her mantle green.
Shoots appear and turn their stalks to the sun
in the brisk spring air.
In the barns, burrows and nests new life appears
and gives us hope.
Spring is the season of change, of life not death
for winter only fades into memory
as we enjoy the metamorphosis of the seasons.
REBIRTH (Lune – Syllables, 5-3-5)
Dawning of new day
revealing
promises foretold.
Kneeling, humbly lift
open hands,
naked heart to God.
Life unfurls, reaching
for the Son,
seeking direction.
Finding the well-spring
of love, hope,
joy and lasting peace
Love this, Marjory, especially
“Life unfurls, reaching
for the Son,
seeking direction.”
Beautiful, Michelle!
Beautiful.
Here’s one I wrote today in a poetry meeting with several of my friends. It’ll probably be on my blog (along with theirs) in a couple days. 🙂
Jesus Christ
A ragged beard and homespun cloak;
The message of our salvation,
By God’s authority was spoke
Unto this sinful nation;
A broken bread and cup of wine:
Passover feast that night was blessed;
A plea to God, “Not My will, Thine”;
In humility He was dressed;
A purple robe and crown of thorns;
A wooden cross upon a hill;
Surrounded by jeering and scorns:
“Forgive them, Father!” Then was still;
An Easter morn and rolled back stone;
Shining angels, good news bringing;
His love unremitted was shown,
And to His cross we still are clinging.
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
Another huge AMEN. Thank you for your uplifting psalms!
The eggs did get boiled, dyed, and painted,
The plastic ones filled with candy and gum,
The basket decorated and goodies added,
Sunrise was observed in solemness and song.
Sermon and service, and feast are enjoyed,
Time for searching for eggs at last,
Greatest joy was when my 4 year old exclaimed,
This egg is empty just like His grave!!
Joy of resurrection has been taught.
Wow. From the mouths of babes. ❤
Wow, such wonderful expressions of faith and hope and joy! I do not have time to comment on all (but had to on some). Our words give such transparency to our hearts, and that honesty is something to be treasured here at Poetic Blooms. Thank you all, coming back time and time to browse through has made my Easter week very special and meaningful. God pour grace out in each of your hearts, minds, and lives. He lives yearning to fill us…let us each overflow.
Amen and amen! Thank you Damen, and to you as well!