Chicken Malady

By Gladwin George

Walking into the shop,

I saw with utter shock;

blood spread on the floor

two hands afresh gore.

My heart in turmoil,

Why chickens do we broil-

No time to lament and swoon,

guests will arrive soon.

"How much,? " shopkeeper asked.

"Two, a little big "I lashed.

A cruel smile, and he dashed.

in tears, I took my cash.

With true dexterity he killed,

two more lives to his fill.

Oh! Will God ever forgive

this butcher, in heaven to live?

Watching the chickens , me swore

never again shall this door,

be crossed by my feet

to witness this damn feat.

Strolling home I thought

the plight of chicken lot-

to live in iron`n`steel,

never to enjoy nature sweet.

The poor're now made spicy,

ALAS, they make my tongue watery.

To do something for them I dare;

but now let me have my share.

Tribute shall i pay-with pen

to all that're called hens.

Threnody I solemnly write,

to the one I now bite.

By Gladwin George