Bernard Pearson

@bernp.bsky.social

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Poet, novelist, Reviewer, published in one hundred and seventy journals magazines, including Wild Court, The York Literary Review, Aesthetica Magazine . Husband, father, hankering after peace in a protected planet www.abookatberntime.uk

Hall of Mirrors In the Court of Louis The cauterized, Beneath a naked light bulb By the name of Fleur, Rank and decorum. Are all important. The revered picture of His mum sits turned to the wall. So, all his footy trophies have to do the same. Outside, where Louis had not Been for several years. (Getting everything delivered), An urban fox dives in a food bin Like Von Rothbart in Swan Lake. © Bernard Pearson
Anomaly The ghost priest that had been ordered by Prospero Arrived as lights failed. Due to the collapsing sun . While the girl who sang Like a honeyed bell, levered herself into some kind of dress. As a silver snake sneaking back into Its still warm skin, Just as something went bump in the day. Telling you that particular lesson was over, and someone would be along later. to collect the bodies and your homework. Sleep now, for when you awaken. The dreams will come again, seeping like magma Through the cracks and seams in your façade, Like tunes from someone else’s Half erased, musical score. © Bernard Pearson
An Affair to Remember He looked at her More naked than The day she was born After the splendour Of their first night Together and thought Cooked breakfast Sex with the lights on pork scratching pink custard and Chocolate crunch Father forgive me, She said under Her breath. But then thought Eighteen twelve overture Good with his hands, Eyes that were much More than just eyes And a real baby to love Until it hurts. Like That time She had Scarlet fever. © Bernard Pearson
Coming to a stand still On looking at my watch, I see that I have stopped. I am not sure precisely When this happened, Perhaps I over wound myself, or was it getting wet The other day Outside ‘The Trianon Tea rooms’ did the meanest of the rain Get into my heart? Possibly I am not as shock proof As I once thought. At any rate i must Get myself going Again as time is Tripping over itself In what light there is and the day can ill afford to wear me merely as an affectation. © Bernard Pearson
What the Runes Say In the last days, Skulls will be filled With smoke, Air conditioned, by the mad. Rockets will drop Inappropriately on the Innocent, like Confetti at a funeral. Drones, the doves Of death will buzz Over children. Baptizing them In heavy water. Fools will sit on Whoopee cushions Thinking they are thrones. The melting earth Will be seen as cool! © Bernard Pearson (extract) complete poem from ‘In Free Fall)
An Astronaut’s Return On his first day back, He gingerly stepped, Over the picket fence, Smelt the apple pie, Placed on the window In the porch. He heard her singing, Some number from the shows. On his second day back, The gravitational pull weakened And though now he could only Look at her from a distance He remembered how No one on earth Could feel the way he felt When they had been together. © Bernard Pearson