Do you have any Christian poetry to share? I will be happy to read it.
Here's a villanelle I wrote for Good Friday.
It Was Done He breathed His last in pain, and it was done: His blood poured down in loving sacrifice. Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!
His senses He would not consent to stun With wine that had been laced with gall and spice: He breathed His last in pain, and it was done.
There was no pain He did not know, not one: The lash, the mocking word, denial thrice. Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!
The darkness now in sorrow veiled the sun, The earth shook as it offered all its vice. He breathed His last in pain, and it was done.
Thus said the gory, awed centurion Who placed Him on Rome's cruelest death device: "Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!"
O death! Your vicious sting has been undone By Jesus, King of Kings, who paid the price! He breathed his last in pain, and it was done: Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!
. . . And this, Armorgames Art, Music, and Writing section, is how you write a villanelle. The refrain was a perfect fit and as with all of your poems, it was quite a joy to read.
The Weak to Shame the Strong 1 Corinthians 1:27-29
Where is the thinker of this age? The great philosopher? Where is your wisdom now, O sage? What hope can it assure? Now speak, O image, iron wrought, O idol, carved from wood! You tarnish and dissolve to rot As manmade objects would. And would all mysteries be solved If logic made all known? The one word--why--would be unsolved: Life's meaning still unknown. Your works of good weigh not on scales, This is no balance beam. Your heart, not fully pure, still fails The moral law supreme. The strength of heroes of renown Has rotted into bones. Those clever minds that once bore crowns Are cold and dead as stones. But Him who lives forevermore Will persevere for long: His power has provided for The weak to shame the strong. Where once we were but fools and things despised, His death brought life eternal as the prize.
