Sonnet: Wild Beasts Do Not Abort Like How Some Women Do
Most animals in wild are driven by
Twin pangs of hunger and of sexual urge;
God feeds them all, no matter where they lie,
And cures them in sickness, and when they purge!
When Estrus season comes on, they all mate;
The pregnant females deliver on own;
And Mother Nature decides new-born’s fate
On harsh terrain, not grass-lawns, freshly mown!
Nevertheless, they murder not unborn,
But lick them clean and nurse them until big;
Their mothers caress them from dusk through dawn;
To cover shame, they wear no leaves of fig!
How well wild beasts obey their Maker’s code!
But human beings, abortions afford.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-15-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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