The Blacksmith Poem by Dela Bobobee

There is certain old smithy near a stream
where all cautious voyagers do pass in life
flowing tide thinking that life is just a dream
and where all disputes should end in strife
and so they are daily forging deadly swords
but I am the patient blacksmith of humanity
deep inside my foundry I forge only words
alloyed in truth to be treasured by posterity

I am the relentless old and new blacksmith
daily forging ethos into conscience with ore
my sledge and anvil ready to oxidize all filth
my vise is laid in strongest hearth of anchor
the wind in my bellow from the deep recess
as an avalanche on loose to drone your ears
with rapt compassion, fairness and to redress
all man’s inhumanity to man over these years

Zeus and Mnemosyne’s nine maidens I know
but also was I by Ogun and Avakpe so tutored
taught to defy the heat from the crucible glow
sow hatchets to burry our forefathers tortured
helpless assets aboard triangular trade ships
the height of man not in his stature’s furnace
but in calm towering stoic tenets of hardships
where all debts are paid only in true penance

my metallurgy knows no carbon nor white-heat
no ferroalloys, manganese, silicon or chromium
but dregs inside meridians of human heartbeat
I charge no fees and seek not hidden premium
all I ask for is just malleable new yielding hearts
as the only raw materials to create a new earth
devoid of war and hunger when playing our parts
we remake the sick world without pain nor death

come to my smithy with all your hatred swords
I shall turn them into tassels of pruningshears
which will turn your arsenals to granary hoards
seek creative bravery that is the ear that hears
for true valor is not found in any weapon cruel
but abound in real altruistic tact and diplomacy
cold word wars of no victor no vanquished duel
procrastination thrives only on our complacency.


Written by
Dela Bobobee©