Long Smote Poems
Long Smote Poems. Below are the most popular long Smote by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smote poems by poem length and keyword.
In the Orient it's called Karma,an inescapable butcher of beasts continuously chopping,slicing & trimming the meat of our mentalities,precisely weighed,
Occidentally the official judge of justice is commonly greeted as God,punisher of aggravated appetites,gatekeeper to the blissful & blightful kingdoms,
perhaps there are astral accountants tabulating spiritual treasures of ours,scribing with blood & bones,celestial lawyers indicting us on ancient legalities,
no action eludes the energy of Nature's ear & eye,to sing with no voice or weep with no tears is to try & erase facts from flesh,removing silt from river,
sometimes good fortune arrives in our awry lives,unanticipated & unsolicited like dreams of victory teaching us its possible to outdo the odds,dance on defeats,
however,recompense is irrevocably required by the Divine source as agony is requisite for birth,a timeless tax that gives everything a welcome worth,a value,
a mother who delivers a deformed child,small business owner increasing sales,a professor thats worshiped,pastor of an indigent church,self content poor man,
the purse of Providence is heavy & organic like a full belly always digesting,making space for more & more charity & confiscation,smote with a kiss,
a balance of thefts & rewards,lies that give loss,love that provides learning,poverty that lends perspective,sorrow sowing strength,profits producing paranoia,
justice is a blacksmith that will heat you & cool you,strike you & smooth you,shape you into something appropriate for your properties,polish your planes -
J.A.B. 2010
Fans in stands & beds with heads in their hands
Bazball disbands shredded into dreaded strands
Boycott this lot don't give a jot no one understands
Piss poor bores ignore turnstile roar in hostile lands
Tanned Aussie class brass band was hardly bland
Yelping Stokes blokes giving them a helping hand
Canned the cool fool Bazball brand must be banned
Ivory tower power zen that Baz Bob and Ben wield
Defective ploys annoys but from noise boys shield
What did planning spanning 4 years actually yield
Smote gloat all the chatting not like 86 and Gatting
Bleak Ben does ken Oz not a den for weak men
Joe standing sentry his century show a footnote
For it does seem this time right quote right team
As a hack with that knack way back once wrote
Can't Bat.......Can't bowl ....Can't field!
This carcase
This corpse
This empty shell
Shorn of its spirit
Its ready smile
Those twinkling eyes
Soft voice
And steely mind.
Tears stung his eyes
Misting the grim scene
Where was the young lad
Entrusted to his care
Destined now
For the ferryman
A ready listener
Careful observer
Easy learner
What he had been taught
Now all undone
By his pride
His resentment of his king
His refusal to fight
Having had to yield his prize
That is where it all began
And brought this bitter end
Cold shame
Cold anger
Cold steel
A murderous chill
A vow of vengeance
No pity
Only savage remorse
The body laid upon its pyre
The torch applied
Lit the flames of revenge
The flames licked the sky
Their smoke the incense
Heightening his prayers
Crying to heaven for catharsis
His men drew back
Serried ranks formed
Armed for the fight
Ready to follow
Witnesses of their hero
Primed for war
Dedicated to glory
In a duel to the death
Against the champion
Of the city under siege
And killer of their leader's ward
Thrice round the walls
Watched helplessly from above
Dragged in the dust
The victim mutilated and disgraced.
To Priam's pleas
He softened
The broken body
To his father returned
When pity
Smote his heart.
Our hero's end
An arrow in his heel
Fired from afar
By the prince
Who sparked
The whole tragedy
—Prithee, Beloved, Tarry Yet Awhile—
Lo! from the crypts where buried hours conspire,
the past came flooding with a nameless force,
and pulverised the dreams of obsidian fire
I bore within my eyes along their course;
yet thee, beloved, whom those dreams enclosed,
the ruin could not wholly discompose.
A childhood afternoon returned entire—
dust silvering a bicycle's worn chain,
the iron scent that follows sudden rain,
a whistle thinning through the telegraph wire;
such trifles, entombed beneath the years,
rose armed with teeth and drank my inward tears.
Then memory unsealed its subterranean sea:
old names, old faces, departures without graves,
a schoolbell striking through the dusk at me,
the smell of wet earth from forgotten days;
each recollection smote the inward glass
and drove another century through the past.
Prithee, beloved, tarry yet awhile;
I carry thee where dream and vision meet.
Touch not the fragments glittering round thy smile;
their edges have grown treacherously acute.
I know not which small splinter shelters thee,
nor which has learnt the shape of wounding me.
Let me stoop slowly through this inward wreck
and lift each broken heaven from its place;
for some shards still retain the vanished speck
of dawn that once inhabited thy face.
One enters flesh; another enters thought—
I bear thy vision where the wound becomes an eye.
Then, without wind, the splinters turned to rain;
the dead stars climbed the wounds they once had made,
and every wound became a seeing vein;
the heavens broke, yet nothing fell or stayed.
I touched the glass—and understood at last:
the shard was not the thing the years had cast.
So tarry. Let me finish what I must,
lest memory's bright wreck should enter thee;
I shall remove the fragments, not the dust
of all the years that taught my eyes to see.
And when the final shard lies still apart,
I shall not seek thee. Thou wilt be the sight.
We were bobbing on the ocean in our tiny pea green boat
The pussycat, the owl and me were many days afloat
With hunger in the belly and a dryness in the throat
The owl winked at the pussycat and said lets take a vote
The owl then looked at me and said we do not mean to gloat
But pussycat and I agree that lunch today is Stoat
Feel free to take a moment to leave those you love a note
And then we’ll make it really quick when we peel off your coat
I told them that the story goes that they wont meet a goat
A turkey and a pig, I said, will come along as wrote
That pig will take a shilling or perhaps a measly groat
To help you cook the turkey which will make our tummies bloat
That’s the version of this tale I wish I could promote
The chances of it going that way were, it seems, remote
For no stoat gets a mention, not in paraphrase nor quote
And so it seems that poor old me got well and truly smote
Amid Arcady's sylvan groves(where once I gazed
Upon such luminous and alabaster grace
By her immortal beauty raptly drawn and dazed
As she turned and gently upraised her elfin face.
Like Aphrodite from the foam she rose and shone
With eager rivulets caressing ev'ry curve
Boldly her willing body yielded to the sun
While capricious Eros' dart smote me deep with love.
In that balmy dawn, birds all hushed in reverence,
Her glistening charms held so deeply me in thrall
Through the glade wafted her fluid fresh fragrance
So that I could barely stifle my lovesick call.
My satyr spirit begged me to Priapus play
But Aidos bade me remain withdrawn and hidden
If only I had known that this moment's delay
Would my great good fortune diminish , unbidden.
Then still she stayed,a startled fawn just before flight
As her skittish glance strayed towards where I was stood
'Twas then Actaeon's fate rose before me with fright
So I shrank e'er deeper into the shadowed wood
Lest vengeful Artemis let loose her hounds of hate.
But then coyly slipped away my shy shepherdess
As I stayed in fear transfixed and saw much too late
Her glide through the trees in her fluttering dress)
I wander alone aye haunted by this vision
While there fiercely burns in my heart a crippling ache
From which there can be no respite nor remission
That even Bethesda's waters would never slake.
Even now that image I cannot forget
Of her rising from the cool water
In my heart there lingers deep regret
For not addressing Aphrodite's daughter
As she swept back her dewy golden hair
Sparking within me an electric surge
The cascading streams caressing her everywhere
To animate me with a powerful Priapic urge
Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...
studious sexagenarian skinny scruffy scribe
My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sing,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning smartass,
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
I believe I can visualize a bird and a tree.
This is something I could describe as poetry.
As yet, allow your inner poem to flow freely.
It offers a firm base on which to uplift deeply.
The beauty of "Conceivable" is in its nothingness.
Tidied with the expectation of becoming a star
Scars form on the hands as this occurs in pettiness.
Of the individuals who opt to assess the bizarre.
Therefore, let us plunge swiftly from the heart.
Also, praise your commitment part.
Imagine the happiness that would bring.
Without giving away the game secret string.
The evidence is right here on my fingers.
Your flesh was preserved solely by luck.
Closeness was once divvied; it now lingers.
Your phantom appeared and equally struck.
You must ingest an extensive round of inquiry.
They lurk behind my teeth, where nothing is tidy.
Almost every day, I start trying to light my lips.
Reverberated by the faint voices of my scripts.
I must tell myself to harbor my mouth abhorrent.
This bogus love is a fragmented, twisted torrent.
My pen, for some reason, keeps its artwork.
I opine that's vulgar after so much time at work.
I can barely elude the lump in my throat.
Either that or butterflies in my chest buzz smote.
Each time I mind you, I saw the tweaks to your face.
Thus, anchoring ideas into bits of my heart's grace.
There is no need to drain your inherence.
Or implement the desired appearance.
Strive not to stop till words failed to emerge.
In fact, you may gain peace in your inner urge.
Written: August 29, 2022
I write because Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Tell the Moms it didn't happen
Tell the Dads it isn't so
Pretty little roses blooming
In the garden – row on row –
Pretty little blossoms folding
Petals falling to the floor
Falling into angels rising
Sprouting wings on which to soar
Smite the gunman at the trigger!
Seize the madman at the gun!
Little voices in the hallway
Little faces in the sun
Little feet upon the heavens
With the morning just begun –
Strike the harp, and hold the fiddle
Let the bells peal out the tune
Mournful as the lonely shepherd
'Ere the clock is noon
Mourning for his little flock
Going home too soon
– And when the news had broken
And gotten all abroad
The stoutest of the stoutest hearts
Could only weep aloud
For here the pact was broken
For here the seal was lost
For here the children were not spared
The devil's holocaust
And startled in his earthly robes
His heart gone sudden cold
Himself a witness to the siege
Even God arose
And with a savage grace
That moved without a sound
Turned the barrel on itself
And with the final round
Emptied out the chamber
And smote the demon down –
Sorrow tumbled into words, an antidote
When sobs choked; venom in the throat.
I hear in wrath, again, his disgusting gloat.
Follows, her muffled groans upon each smote.
In a while, she whimpers in an awesome note.
Probably, in pain, bearing his lusty frote.
I lay jack-knifed, as ever, a vain mote.
Tears overflow in such relations of fraught.
An unwanted witness I’ve been, still zygote.
Begetter that blessed me with love drought!
Who cares? My soul long for draught.
No more! I’m tired of being the scapegoat.
I pray to thee, free us of this cutthroat.
In time please, send us thy lifeboat!
Date:17/06/16
Placed 10 for contest Desperate Housewife by Poet Destroyer A (2/07/16)
Placed 2 for contest Sadness by Silent One (11/02/17)