| The Blacksmith | |
| 601 | A humble blacksmith lived down south. |
| His forge was too his home. | |
| He was a serf to heat and steel, | |
| so proved his ashened clothes. | |
| 605 | The days of hamm’ring steel passed by. |
| His thoughts at times distract, | |
| and though he forged with diligence, | |
| his mind shifts to his craft. | |
| He’s dedicated years to arms | |
| 610 | that only hurt and kill, |
| but justice also flows from swords | |
| to those men rife with guilt. | |
| And smiths have armor to produce | |
| which shield those gallant knights, | |
| 615 | but armor saves some cruel bad men |
| who spread distrust and fright. | |
| So is the blacksmith good or bad? | |
| And is he wanting fault? | |
| Are vendors too responsible | |
| 620 | for deeds of he who bought? |
| One day a famous rebel man | |
| came riding on his horse. | |
| He galloped to the blacksmith’s house | |
| and dictated with force: | |
| 625 | “Make me a thousand breastplates, sir. |
| Meld twice as many swords. | |
| Make spears and arrowheads abound. | |
| I’m stocking up for war!” | |
| Smith stared upon that rebel man | |
| 630 | unable to believe. |
| An order such as this would make | |
| him wealthy like the queen! | |
| But then a sense of caution crept. | |
| He asked quite practically: | |
| 635 | “Why do you need these weapons, lord? |
| How will you pay your fee?” | |
| The lord dissenter answered him: | |
| “My reasons are my own. | |
| But know that when I win this war | |
| 640 | I’ll take my mighty throne. |
| I’ll pay you from the treasury. | |
| The realm will hold no debt. | |
| But first, produce the weapons, sir. | |
| You’ll get no money yet .” | |
| 645 | The smith thought hard and gave response: |
| Declined with an head shake. | |
| The world stood still with lord provoked. | |
| Had smith made a mistake? | |
| Dissenter grunted grimly then | |
| 650 | but did not brandish arms. |
| He spurred his warhorse onwards to | |
| vast endless lands of farms. | |
| The blacksmith breathed deep with relief, | |
| reflected on the scene. | |
| 655 | He just refused an evil man |
| and gold he could have gleaned. | |
| But he’d refuse a good man, too | |
| in similar event. | |
| The reason smith denied that man: | |
| 660 | A credit pays no rent. |
Monthly Archives: April 2015
The Blacksmith
The Security Guard
| The Security Guard | |
| 541 | Security guard stood afoot, |
| but night was getting late. | |
| His lead eyes now were drooping low. | |
| He has to stay awake. | |
| 545 | He shook his leg and walked around. |
| His coffee poured and flowed. | |
| The bank depended on this man | |
| to guard its liquid dough. | |
| Of course if he just took a seat, | |
| 550 | relaxed his weary bones… |
| The benefits outweigh the risks, | |
| and no one’d have to know. | |
| So sitting down, his eyes fell shut. | |
| “What if I fall asleep?” | |
| 555 | he pondered in his dopey state |
| as sleep began to creep. | |
| “What if a robber comes this night, | |
| armed with a pistol gun? | |
| Then would I be awake to put | |
| 560 | that robber on the run? |
| Asleep, I won’t be vigilant. | |
| The thief would prance right in. | |
| He’d march up to our giant safe, | |
| then empty it and grin. | |
| 565 | There’d be a noise, the lock would crack, |
| within the riches shine. | |
| He’d fill his bag, then he’d be off | |
| to live a life refined.” | |
| The guard recoiled and then he thought: | |
| 570 | “What if my eyes did close |
| and into slumber I descend, | |
| a deep and happy doze? | |
| What if a crazy man then comes | |
| and threatens with a bomb? | |
| 575 | He holds me hostage for the cash – |
| his sanity long gone. | |
| He yells aloud, sets off alarms. | |
| Soon news crews do arrive, | |
| and pictures of me ‘round the world | |
| 580 | show uniformed man cry. |
| The bomber man has no demands, | |
| for all he wants is fame. | |
| He shouts out Boom! and spins his gun, | |
| prolongs his twisted game. | |
| 585 | Policemen offer deals to him, |
| but bomber won’t have that. | |
| He knows his life is forfeit now | |
| so counts down his attack. | |
| Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four… | |
| 590 | My end is nearer now. |
| Light flashes! Forceful heat explodes!” | |
| Guard wakes, and wipes his brow. | |
| “Okay,” he says, “I should not sleep. | |
| I’ve got to do my task | |
| 595 | or awful things made in my dreams |
| might truly come to pass.” | |
| But then a worse, more fearful thought | |
| began to overtake. | |
| Reflecting on his awful dreams: | |
| 600 | “What if I were awake?” |


