The latest... As shortly as the Polish net heard about Jasia Kapela's writing 30 texts on the subject of pro-abortion in 1 year, after reading any of them, I wondered whether I could compose 3 poems about the pronunciation of anti-abortion in 1 evening only... And before I could think about it, a fewer rhymes against abortion came to my mind...
I'll be honest with you... Since my fever and chills abruptly got to me last night, I didn't sleep very well... In the morning, I had problem getting out of bed... I was walking around like this that day... But I'm thinking... What? I can't compose 3 poems against abortion in 1 evening?! I can't?! I'm about to make tea with honey and citrus and get to work!... And so in 1 evening (a fewer hours) I wrote these 3 poems below about the pronunciation of anti-abortion... I'd like you to justice them yourself...
"All this was a distant memory"
Even though in dirty doctor's offices,
During many post-communist Poland years,
Each of the lips of a doctor ruthless diagnosis,
So many young mothers cut off their feet,
Though there are many praying pregnancies,
According to the diagnosis,
And the hope awakened in her mother's heart,
In a fraction of a second, sometimes she went out,
Though intrusive pro-abortional propaganda,
Like a terrible ghost,
She tried to penetrate their thoughts
To stir and uncertainty them...
Though the screaming feminists will burst with anger,
Lying pseudo-experts opinions and voices,
In memory of so many of them,
Falling off plasma tv screens...
All of this was a distant memory,
While holding a tiny baby to his chest,
Some secretly shed a teardrop of happiness,
With a warm smile,
All of this was a distant memory,
When taking hands of his child,
With words put on in a quiet whisper,
She promised him a happy life,
All of this was a distant memory,
As he looks at his child,
Captured by a strong emotion,
His first saw a smile,
All of this was a distant memory,
When 1 day suddenly,
It fell out of a baby's mouth...
- Mommy, I love you...
"In the eye of many mothers"
When in the walls of Gothic churches
Light falling from colored stained glass windows
On the faces of laughing children,
He'll be happy to dance on them,
When small baby hands,
They will make a mark of the cross on their forehead,
In many old churches,
In focus, saying goodbye to the service,
In the eye of many praying mothers,
We can see a teardrop in the air,
Which, pearling in a bright day of light,
He will sometimes cut a light cheek,
In the eye of many praying mothers,
We can see the guilt of feeling,
The pain of severe untwined memories,
Sudden prick of conscience...
And any young mothers,
By drowning in painful memories,
Touched in the depths of a mother's heart,
He'll run his head to that day,
When that terrible diagnosis,
It fell from the mouth of an old doctor,
When she took note of it,
That her pregnancy was threatened,
When the planet goes blind,
Suddenly, like he stopped,
The cold thrill ran on my back,
She couldn't catch her breath out of terror
When the Devil’s Temptation
Refusing to teach the Church,
Deep down,
Like sprouting with free weed...
And looking into the eyes of their children,
♪ Scrubbing tears ♪
Some curse that thought,
When she promised herself an abortion to consider,
And many will thank Mary,
That in their hearts, pouring comfort,
The superhuman then gave them strength,
She saved a miraculously endangered pregnancy...
"I saw in my dream..."
I saw black umbrellas in my dream,
Broken on the street pavements,
No mercy crushed with heels,
Drowned by the filth of street puddles,
I saw black umbrellas in my dream,
Squeezed into the trash cans,
Destroying between waste,
Smacked at night by rats...
I saw in my dream in the old churches,
In the shadow of the broken Gothic walls,
Praying young Polish women,
Moving in the hands of the beads,
Praying in the next years,
With my beloved husband,
To receive the grace of many offspring,
Worshiping God in his regular prayers...
I saw unborn children in my dream,
Sleeping at night under my mother's heart,
Sometimes involuntary thumb sucking,
Expected by their angels,
So anxious to be loved,
By the planet in wars,
Drowned in human hatred,
To God, he inactive turned his back...
