Inspired by Rozy, I wrote a poem in the style I call General Conference Doggerel, though bluer.

(For you single people, sorry. Your display of the nameless virtue is honorable.)

Here goes.

Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.
Boy, your bride saw in you nothing so great.
Girl, what’s there in you that he’d celebrate?
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

The pill and the condom make you feel great,
Who wants sexual pleasure to reach its full spate?
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

You didn’t get married because you wanted to mate,
Are you even sure how yet to re-procreate?
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

You two surely have more serious things on your plate
than a soul in your image to jointly create.
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

When age takes your edge off, raising children is great,
Your vigor won’t lag, your vim won’t abate.
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

All you’d be is your children’s fount and their fate,
All in them that you’d see is your two blended traits,
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

You prate love love love love, but lets not overrate,
Its not that special to be whom your kids venerate,
Put kids off till tomorrow, Godhood can wait.

Put kids off till tomorrow–fear–hesitate!
Put kids off till tomorrow–procrastinate!
Put kids off till tomorrow–Godhood can wait.

Your own stanzas welcome.  Rewrite any stanza you feel like.

Feel free to pass this on.

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