The Life of Jesus Christ

a poem by Rajaram Ramachandran, India - poetry writer, author, poet

Oh Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,
Tell me, where to start first
Centuries past your old story
Of your everlasting glory!

Many books were written.
Many preachers have spoken.
But still I took a bold step
To bring out this write up.

Blessed is Mary, your mother,
Blessed is Joseph, your father,
To beget you as their noble son,
Yes, it's true, as second to none.

When you were born in Bethlehem
A place near sacred Jerusalem
Stars the wise men saw in the sky
That brought no limit to their joy.

Your parents then fled to Egypt
For fear of King Herod's threat
And in Nazareth city took shelter
To protect your life thereafter.

As a boy, you helped your father
In his work, as a junior carpenter.
But as a lad of twelve years
You were found unlike others.

Your understanding and answers
Were far above your teachers
But your respect for them
Kept you in their high esteem.

Two men, Simon Peter and Andrew
To your good self fold you drew
And told them "You fishermen
I'll make you fishers of men"

Two brothers, James and John,
Accepted your peaceful mission
And followed your footsteps
To work as your disciples.

When you sailed in a boat,
There arose a wild tempest,
But the wind was silenced
With your wave of hand.

Near the city gate of Nain
The dead body of a son
Of a poor widow mother,
Alive you gave back to her.

The lame and the blind,
The mute and the maimed
The lepers and the diseased
Were cured as you blessed.

It's a wonder of wonders
With few fish and loaves
How the hunger of thousands
You drove away to the winds?

A dead man from the grave
Lazarus, his name, was alive,
As he rose and walked up
Upon your command, "wake up."

To be wise as serpents
To be harmless as doves
You sent your disciples
As sheep before wolves.

In the Mount of Olives
Judas among the disciples
Gave you a kiss of betray
As fate drove him astray.

Your fame went up the sky high
That caused the chief priests' sigh.
And they did all their worst
To bring forth your arrest.

They pressurized the judgment
To crucify you to their merriment,
And made a mockery of the news
That you were the king of Jews.

You were teased and tortured.
A crown of thorn on your head
Tore the skin of your forehead
Draining out the dripping blood.

A tense atmosphere prevailed
As your hands and feet they nailed.
For no reasons you were killed.
Thus the long arms of justice failed.

"Oh, Father of the Heaven
Forgive their sin
For they know not as sin
What they've done."

"Into your hands, dear
I commit my spirit, Father."
Thus Jesus breathed His last,
With these words at last.

He still lives in every heart
And continues to play His part.
Such noble Souls never depart,
As they're God chosen sent.

There's no end to this story
As His miracles every day
Add a new leaf to the history
To sing in praise of His glory.

Parable of the Prodigal Son
A Bouquet of Oriental Poems
I'm a discarded drop out

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