Parable of the Righteous

In the village
They  say that all truth
Is their truth,
So they’re rounding
Up all the ‘wrong’uns’
And casting them out
There is the baker;
Whose  bread they say
Is no longer palatable.
The builder, whose
Bricks are the wrong colour
And the doctor who
Prescribes  medication,
They find not to their refined taste.
Soon it is only the dreamers
Who are left, they dream
Their dreams, while the robbers come
and steal their bread,
the vandals come and burn their homes.
And all the while in the real world
the men of money
build new counting house.

©  Bernard Pearson

On the Return of the Butterfly

Badging buds , identifying
each one for beauty, blending
the gentle warming air by
its wing beat.
Like a feathered, paper fan
in a French salon,
raising the temperature of the day.

Peacocks, Picasso Blue
across a ruddied canvass
unfurl as flags
on The Field of the Cloth of Gold.
While in the westering wind,
a bundle of Cabbage Whites
tumble like untimely snowflakes,
then dance up towards the sun,
Newly allowed to stay up late,
to watch  this  silent insurrection.

© Bernard Pearson

BERNARD PEARSON: is a poet whose work  appears in many publications, including; Aesthetica Magazine , The Edinburgh Review, Crossways, The Gentian, Nymphs The Poetry Village, Beneath The Fever, The Beach Hut Little stone. In 2017 a selection of his poetry ‘In Free Fall’ was published by Leaf by Leaf  Press. In 2019  he won second prize in The Aurora Prize for Writing for his poem Manor Farm. He is also a Biographer and Prize winning short story writer.