The Parable Of The Blind- From B

Eight rustics, blind as tape-worms,
Grope their way, stupidly, in single file.
Armed with cudgels, they plod
unaware of their doomed fate.

They plunge like lemmings
into a mired ditch.
The last fellow oaf,
with mouth aghast
tumbles, without a hitch,
into his own disaster.

In the background,
of this folly,
Breugel paints a bucolic, bovine
a village farmhouse, church, and steeple,
a peasant feeds white poulets.
A kine lifts her head
and moos lowly.
Ducks swim in a clear,reedless

All the while, the muddled-headed
fools tumble to their deaths,
fall, pile, and break their necks.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem