The Easter Flower
Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,
Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily
Soft-scented in the air for yards around;
Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf!
Just like a fragile bell of silver rime,
It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief
In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;
And many thought it was a sacred sign,
And some called it the resurrection flower;
And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,
Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
poem by Claude McKay
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A Healthier Easter
This is the first Easter
No candy baskets will be here
But we had so many baskets
Each and every year.
The kids are older now
Candy they don’t want anymore
So this Easter the baskets sit empty
Behind the closet door.
Somehow I want the Easter Bunny here
Want those baskets filled with eggs so bright
But my teens want to be healthier
So they make sure that they eat right.
They forfeit sugar and junk
No more Peeps or a big chocolate bunny
But being without Easter Baskets on Easter
Seems to be very odd and funny.
So I am putting the word out
To the Easter Bunny in my town
That I don’t think the teens will mind
If you decide to come around.
Maybe you could leave some health bars
Perhaps some fruit and veggies too
And maybe you could put some books in there
Those things could still say “I love you”.
poem by Connie Webb
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The Easter Decorations
O take away your dried and painted garlands!
The snow-cloth's fallen from each quicken'd brow,
The stone's rolled off the sepulchre of winter,
And risen leaves and flowers are wanted now.
Send out the little ones, that they may gather
With their pure hands the firstlings of the birth,—
Green-golden tufts and delicate half-blown blossoms,
Sweet with the fragrance of the Easter earth;
Great primrose bunches, with soft, damp moss clinging
To their brown fibres, nursed in hazel roots;
And violets from the shady banks and copses,
And wood-anemones, and white hawthorn shoots;
And tender curling fronds of fern, and grasses
And crumpled leaves from brink of babbling rills,
With cottage-garden treasures—pale narcissi
And lilac plumes and yellow daffodils.
Open the doors, and let the Easter sunshine
Flow warmly in and out, in amber waves,
And let the perfume floating round our altar
Meet the new perfume from the outer graves.
And let the Easter “Alleluia!” mingle
With the sweet silver rain-notes of the lark;
Let us all sing together!—Lent is over,
Captivity and winter, death and dark
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Mayor Giuliani at Eastertime
Easter Sunday 2005,
Rudy Giuliani was with his former wife.
His children were also there,
smell of turkey lingered in the air.
For it was Easter Sunday,
everyone was thankful with words of praise.
Posing for the camera’s with all smiles,
dressed in Easter clothes with lots of style.
Also photographing Donald and his wife,
she was carrying a new precious life.
Mya and Ron would stand by Donald’s side,
all posed for a photo to remember Eastertime.
Only a small print run would show this affair,
paper not distributed everywhere.
That’s o.k. the Shiny Sheet was there.
(May 23, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Lent Lily
'Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.
And there's the windflower chilly
With all the winds at play,
And there's the Lenten lily
That has not long to stay
And dies on Easter day.
And since till girls go maying
You find the primrose still,
And find the windflower playing
With every wind at will,
But not the daffodil,
Bring baskets now, and sally
Upon the spring's array,
And bear from hill and valley
The daffodil away
That dies on Easter day.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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The Easter Lily
A little child, as winter turned to spring,
Tended a lily-plant with patient care,
Thinking, when she should see it blossoming,
To set it on the chancel-step; that there,
When Easter dawned on Lent, the spotless thing
Might on the feast-day be her offering,
Lifting its own white face to One more fair.
But, as the plant grew upward day by day,
Raising itself from earth towards the sky,
So seemed the child from earth to draw away,
The while she feared to see the lily die;
Unthinking that, ere broke the Easter ray,
She might her own white soul before Him lay
For Whom she sought the flower to sanctify.
Time passed. The lily bloomed not; and the night
Before the feast had come. And so the child
Sent to the church the cherished plant, despite
’T was but an unblown bud; and—reconciled
That on the altar-step, midst flowers white,
Her poor green stalk watched out the silent flight
Of hours until the morn—contented smiled.
• • • • • • • •
Fair broke the dawn upon the altar’s hem
Of lilies, breathing Easter greeting sweet;
But, with the night that so perfected them,
The child’s own spirit fled, the Light to meet
Beyond the heaven’s roseate diadem;
And, with the morning, bloomed upon the stem
The fair, white soul her own had longed to greet!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1893)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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White Angel the Easter Rabbit
Out of a lovely fantasy…..,
She appeared one Springtime day…..,
And made our world……,
So happy in every way……,
It was a vision so wondrous……,
As we colored our eggs…..,
For the Easter Holiday
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
She’d hop, hop, hop….,
All day long…..,
Be dancin’ around……,
And singin’ a song…..,
As Easter came so merrily…..,
She was so much fun for us to see……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
Lovin’ her was a tireless habit……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
But poof just like each night and day……,
Her visit soon had to end …..,
So she hop, hop, hopped on her way……,
Off to visit her fairytale friends……,
As we sadly bid farewell to her…….,
She said, “Come on now, don’t cry…..,
I’ll be back again some Easter Day”…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Pure white gold in 24 karat…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit….! ! !
(2011)
poem by Trade Martin
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Easter Parade
In your easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
Youll be the grandest lady in the easter parade.
Ill be all in clover and when they look you over,
Ill be the proudest fellow in the easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And youll find that youre in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your easter bonnet,
And of the girl Im taking to the easter parade.
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Horn
WHAT is St. Francis' flower? 'T is not
The daisy nor the melilot,
Nor that white little flower that springs
In Grasmere's quiet garden-plot.
'T is not the lily-flower that blows
In some high heaven of repose.
'T is not the sorrow of the thorn,
Nor utter passion of the rose.
It is the wild-heart eglantine,
(Sweet bush to a far sweeter wine),
With joy for man, sweet-thorn for Christ,
Not pagan all, not all divine.
poem by Philip Henry Savage
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The Real Reason
I'm going to tell you something you might consider funny
But Easter isn't all about the hip hoppity bunny
NOr is at about candy and all those other sweets
And the eggs in the basket and other fun treats
Now listen close to what I have to say
And you'll know why we celebrate this day
Easter tells us how much God's love costs
And how He wants to gather in the lost
It was on the cross Christ died for our sin
So those who believed now to heaven enter in
Yes, God so loved the world that He gave His Son
So victory over death could now be won
On Easter morning Christ rose from the dead
The story's not over, there's much more to be said
yes, it's okay to enjoy the bunny, the candy and sweets
The eggs in the basket and the other fun treats
Just remember that Christ's resurrection is the real reason
That we celebrate the Easter season
Easter
Celebrating the march of spring,
Awaiting what fruitful months bring,
We honour the resurrection,
And use the time for reflection,
Children will get their chocolate fix,
And outside one can hear new born chicks,
Smiles are shared at the holiday,
With loved ones for Easter Sunday,
Family comes to the forefront,
Kids go on an Easter egg hunt,
At last it is the end of Lent,
No more in fasting are days spent,
Blessings from the Easter Bunny,
The days change from cold to sunny,
Plants begin to show their flowers,
There are ever less rain showers.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Easter Theatre
Gold sun rolls around
Chocolate nipple brown
Tumble from your arms
Like the ground your breasts swell
Land awake from sleep
Hares will kick and leap
Flowers climb erect
Smiling from the moist kiss of her rainbow mouth
Chorus
Stage left
Enter easter and shes dressed in yellow yolk
Stage right
Now the son has died, the father can be born
Stand up
If wed all breathe in and blow away the smoke
New life
Wed applaud a new life
Odin mounts the tree
Bleeds for you and me
Splashing on the lamb
Gamboling with springs step
Buds will laugh and burst
Racing to be first
Turning all the soil
As the promptress fingers through her spinning script
Chorus
Easter ... in her bonnet
Easter ... in her hair
Easter ... are the ribbons
She tied everywhere
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easter by transfer
The last year alienated me
from your charisma once for all
and crucified my love of thee.
This year retrieved me,
by return to you, a miracle,
and resurrected my love of thee.
Easter follows not every Friday.
Let this year be Easter for us.
18.05.2001, Pmdi
[the lovers meet after a year gap]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Easter Snow
Easter is a time
for change, sunshine,
but where's the sun
as I look out my,
window this easter
morning, what is this
I see, not more snow,
rain is ok, but
snow no, snow I
thought I had seen
the last of you,
but you just keep
coming, so white
is the ground as
snow flakes keep
falling and falling.
They say if it
rains easter sunday,
for seven sundays
we shall have rain.
Does this mean
that now for seven
sundays we shall have
snow falling on us?
Sun last few weeks
you have been so
kind to us, please
pay us a visit,
once again and
bring comfort to
these old bones of
mine once again.
They say we need
the moisture, so
rain wake up and
please fall on us, once again.
(4-8-07)
Easter Eggs for the Homeless
When I'm feeling lost and bored
I contemplate Our Holy Lord
Who rose from the dead on Easter Day
Much to the Devil's deep dismay!
I sit here in the street and beg -
No, not for me an Easter egg!
Food's something that I can't afford
And usually I am ignored.
I thought that Jesus loved the poor
But I don't believe that anymore,
I think the whole thing is a hoax
When I curl up in my cardboard box.
Is there no justice in this life,
Just hunger, misery and strife?
Did Judas die from suicide?
He might have been wrong but at least he tried!
His silver coins would have helped the poor
And fed a mouth or two for sure,
Perhaps his tortured heart was pure -
Now that's a thought you can't endure! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Easter Bunny
Easter Bunny
Come in a hurry
I want my Easter egg
Easter Bunny
Please don't tarry
Remember what I said
Paint my egg blue
With little brushes too
And add a little red to it
'Cause I won't mind if you did
Put my egg in the basket
With a little red ribbon
Put it in your jacket
And bring it to London
poem by Jacqueline AntwiDanso
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Molech
Our wonderful world,
Our wonderful homes,
Of the customs and traditions;
But, no one is stronger than Yahweh!
Bye-bye to summer and hello to winter,
And like Nimrod and his 'mother-wife' Semiramis!
Bye-bye to winter and hello to summer,
And like the resurrection of nature after winter!
To Constantine the Emperor,
But, Nimrod married his mother.
To the Pilgrims of Plymouth Colony,
With Easter Bunny and Easter Coloured Eggs!
And like the Aztecs of Mexico.
The goddess Ceres,
The German and the Celtic Yule rites;
And like a writer's ink!
But, Saturnalia became what is called Christmas today;
Yes, the very worship of the god Saturn!
Of the pagan customs,
Of the servants of Satan,
And to the Norse people of ancient Scandinavia;
Norse Ostara,
Norse Eostra,
And like a mysterious force!
And, of the worship of the ancestral spirits,
But marked by human sacrifice and lighted candles for Baal!
All in the name of hercules who was Molech.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Happy Easter 2012
The tomb of stone's empty!
Christ Jesus has risen,
On day three after death,
Just as He had foretold!
His death on cross was sad;
Even the sun didn't shine;
And earth shuddered awhile,
As corpses came alive!
Jesus was Truth and Light;
The dark tomb couldn't contain
Christ who's Light of the world;
Death could never prevail.
The Good Shepherd, He bore
Our every cross and sin;
The spotless lamb got slain
To save man from ruin!
What obeisance, Christ showed!
His Father was so pleased;
His heart was always moved
By love, His son had proved.
Good that Jesus rose then;
Our faith has stood the test;
Like Christ, we all can rise;
If sinless, reach heaven!
Jesus had crushed satan;
The body dies but then
Resurrection is true,
As soul and body meet.
By Christmas, Christ was born;
Through Easter, Christ died, rose;
In glory, He will come
As God and King and judge!
Easter gives man new hope;
The righteous can see God;
Jesus has paid the price
For every sin of man!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-04-12
poem by John Celes
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Resurrection
Depression is my burden
I just want recovery
I want a resurrection
That’s what this Easter means to me.
But I don’t want pain or sorrow
Nor being nailed onto a cross
I’m numbed by medication
And the acuity I’ve lost.
Perhaps there’s good in all this bad?
Perhaps there’s sunshine at the end?
Perhaps I’m paying the full price
For not having been my friend?
Suicide keeps being mentioned
When psychiatrists I see
I would not do it! Not at all!
I don’t want a Calvary.
Yet self-loathing is a cancer
More invasive than self-doubt
I feel I’ve been invaded
And I can’t get that devil out.
People say ‘just look at Churchill’
And others who inspired
They suffered from depression
And it somehow stoked their fires.
I smile with all these comments
I was the most relaxed of men
But when the smiling’s over
That Black Dog comes again.
Sometimes the anger gets too much
And I start shouting at the moon
Adrenalin is shaking me
And sleep can’t come too soon.
I am not the Easter Bunny
Nor am I Christ upon the cross
I used to be a normal person
But it’s now the plot I’ve lost.
Each day I hope for resurrection
To feel the sun and smile and see
That there is hope and happiness
But it’s crucifying me.
For depression is my burden
It’s my crown of thorns to wear
I wake each single morning
Hoping it’s not there.
poem by David Keig
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Lines On A Visit To Port Fairy
I walked Pathway that led through muttonbird colony
On Island off Port Fairy by the sea
In latter March a bright though breezy day
With voice of seagull ringing down the bay.
On Easter Sunday nineteen eighty nine
A breezy day of spasmodic sun shine
Sweet scent of sea and tide sound in my ear
And weather pleasant for the time of year.
Muttonbirds dig their nest holes in the ground
And their nest burrows were plentiful all around
And I quote from ornithologists who know best
That this year same Muttonbird use last year's nest.
Parent muttonbirds gone fishing out to sea
Leave behind them their nest bound families
Their three months old nestlings unable yet to fly
Future earth born distant travellers of the sky.
In metre deep burrow in fore shore sand
I searched along it's bottom with my hand
Felt the soft down feathers of a sea bird's breast
A young near full fledged nestling in it's nest.
In Island off Port Fairy by the sea
With voice of seagull ringing down the bay
I walked Pathway that led through muttonbird colony
On Easter Sunday quite a pleasant day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Me
I sit in my car
while darks clouds
try to molest the sun’s rays. I
am thinking of Easter
and what it means to us
from all the four corners of the world.
To me Easter means a new life,
a resurrection from the old.
To move forward, making
it better with each step.
Discarding the sorrows
that crucified our mind,
walking forward, head tall
to meet new challenges
that will lay ahead.
20 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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