Best Smote Poems
" I Smote Thy Heart"
by~ Richard Pickett
Upon the morrow, I shall take aim
with this slender feathered shaft at the heart of thee,
it shall pierce thee in the coldest of manners. Thou shalt
know from whence it came. From my sorrow, said sorrow
left upon me by the daggers of thy withered soul.
Beguiled by thy mask of innocence,that thee wore
as brilliantly as the Barrister, pleading before the magistrate.
Thou shalt plead mercy of passion, I once possessed only for thee,
that I remove the bolt from thy heart. Yet... I shall smite thee,till
thy blood runs as cold as the stone upon whence thy lie.
by~ Poet Destroyer
Strike on whom my ears deceive,
your sadness pierce ye 3 times therefore.
Straight liketh dagger of dragon teeth under thy heart.
A grace alone thou sprouted in remoteness ways.
If it ware not thy heart, ye fancy, into thy face
I have besidis all thy pain
No thing to want if it ware not Mad
Hold on to all things even as ye see, in every angle.
Nothing doth matter; thy aim shall endeth all sorrow
I have founded but makis me happiest thou ever was,
Thou shall not beggeth, taketh the dagger
Now thou its to late, smote thee very slowly
Thee hath my heart in deep shallow waters ;
Bloody lips do what ye list and dredge thee not
Smote thy heart, I care not,
Love whom ye forget, my sweet innocence.
Wherefore I pray mercy or shall not.
But love whom ye fear no God,
Do what must,
My tears shed thousands of grains of sand.
Morrow, will soon cometh, shall I hold
as you taketh away, from your
~ Femme' Fatal ~
A collaboration with * Richard Pickett
There were plenty of fish in the sea,
but I knew you were the one for me!
When you sent me the scented love note,
I sensed you might also be love smote,
And since life has gone quite blissfully.
bleeding blushes ooze
damping dessicated drool
punctured passion puke
nauseating nocturnal nude
felon feelings fostered
gaunt gazes murdered
fiery smirk smote
undaunted gift grown
on fervent flow
salient soil pulsed
leering lanky lust
foaming feelings gulped
on vying Valentine
gaunt gazes dine.
'20:02:14:14:52
I was smote by words
As a soldier with bullets
‘Til I harnessed their power
And they slight retreated lest
I would fire back
Then they came for my freedom
But they did not prevail;
No rights were forsaken
Because time outran evil
And faded to black.
THE DAY GOD SMOTE HIS SON
Man had had his brutal fun with Jesus there that day;
They'd taken up the whip and beat His body in the fray.
They'd spit upon His precious face and crushed His precious head
With thorns as sharp as they could find, and watched as there He bled.
They laughed at such a spectacle and then led Him away,
Compelled someone to bear His cross as many watched that day.
They took three spikes, a rugged tree, and nailed His hands and feet
And dropped the cross into the hole; that made the job complete.
He hung there now in agony, and then the noonday sun
Soon disappeared for three long hours, and new suffering begun.
For now His Father had His turn to bare His holy arm
And punish His begotten Son for sin's curse and its harm.
He gave His Son what I deserved, the beating and the hell,
No one could see in those dark hours, and words could never tell.
It was not man in hatred now who punished God's dear Son,
But God Himself, the one who loved, and then when He was done
He walked away, left Christ alone, to cry there in despair
And wonder why His Father left and wonder if He cared.
But in His heart of hearts He'd known this day would come to pass
And for the joy that lay before, He would do what God asked.
Even if it meant all alone He'd suffer on that tree,
And take the wrath of God and man for sinners just like me.
The price He paid for sin that day is more than words can tell,
Just like the fate that I deserved in that eternal hell.
Oh, what a love! I trust it now, receiving it so free,
I thank Him for the price He paid for sinners just like me!
I thank Him for the blood He shed, for all that He has done
On that day on Golgotha's hill—the day God smote His Son.