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
