Weekly Contest

Poetry contest
40 competitors

Classic poem of the day

Jesus, my gentle Jesus,
Walking in the dark of the Garden —
The Garden of Gethsemane,
Saving to the three disciples:
Sorrow is in my soul —
Even unto death;
Tarry ye here a little while,
And watch with me.

Jesus, my burdened Jesus,
Praying in the dark of the Garden —
The Garden of Gethsemane.
Saying: Father,
Oh, Father,
This bitter cup,
This bitter cup,
Let it pass from me.

Jesus, my sorrowing Jesus,
The sweat like drops of blood upon his brow,
Talking with his Father,
While the three disciples slept,
Saying: Father,
Oh, Father,
Not as I will,
Not as I will,
But let thy will be done.

Oh, look at black-hearted Judas —
Sneaking through the dark of the Garden —
Leading his crucifying mob,
Oh, God!
Strike him down!
Why don't you strike him down,
Before he plants his traitor's kiss...

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member poem of the day


I awoke with a start.
My name called out in a whisper that penetrated my sleep.

"Something is wrong," she said softly.
Words that caused my heart and soul to vibrate with dread.

"I think I'm having a stroke," she slurred.
These were the last words my beloved would ever say.