The Tale of a Man Named Lou who Taught us Red is Blue...

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Once, in a land of Lubadoo

There lived a man that folks called Lou

Now Lou, in everybody’s eyes

Was perceived to be very wise

And often times with nodding head

They all agreed to what Lou said.

Lou lived in a gray castle tall

And roses climbed the old stone wall

In lovely red, year after year

The bloom of roses would appear

And many paused to gaze in awe

At the red roses that they saw

One day in restless discontent

Lou stopped to smell their perfumed scent

He shouted, “Hear what I’ll tell you

These red roses are really blue!”

Folks shook there heads at what Lou said

For how can blue one day be red?

But Lou walked up and down the street

And every day he would repeat

That what was red is really blue

And slowly folks agreed with Lou

For wasn’t Lou still, after all

The wise man in that castle tall?

Then came that sad and solemn day

When Lou was old and passed away

The mourners stood out on the street

Where rose-petals fell at their feet

They told their children ‘here lived Lou

Who taught us red is really blue’

Now no one questions anymore

What they had all believed before

As generation rise and fall

Blue roses climb the castle wall

It seems they never, ever knew

These roses were not always blue

Time’s centuries have come about

And no one stops to think or doubt

For who can say red is not blue?

Nobody here has heard of Lou

Or how one day he simply said

'These roses are not really red'

…and visitors are mystified

To hear folk speak with love and pride

At these blue roses; how they’ve grown

Year after year against the stone

For no one here remembers Lou
Or wonders that red is not blue

The moral of this little tale

Is simply this; Truth does not fail

Though generations come and go

The truth remains unchanged and so

Before we teach that red is blue

We should make sure that it is true

Be careful then that none deceive

Lest generations thus believe

A vile untruth told to be true

For those red roses are not blue

Yet everyone within their youth

Were taught what others thought was truth

© Janet Martin

The inspiration for this poem came about in  few ways. Yesterday at my nephew’s wedding my brother told me he was searching my blog for a poem for his daughter to recite at school.

‘Oh, no,’ I said, ‘did you find anything? There is not a lot for kids on my blog!’

He grinned, ‘it was tough but eventually we found one that we both agreed on’.

…then, this morning my two older daughters and I had a pretty intense discussion on truth, faith, grace and the differing views that people have. I suddenly remembered something my dad said years ago, ‘truth is truth. Time and what people say does not change it, but if an untruth is taught long enough it will seem as truth, be taught as truth, believed as truth, but the truth remains; it is still an untruth.

God’s word is truth; ‘though Heaven and earth pass away my words will never pass away’.

My daughters and I agreed; what we believe must be tested by that which was, is, and ever will be Truth; God’s Word.

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. 2 Tim. 2:15