It’s nearly time,
so let us start
for we can help,
if we have a heart.
.
The Spring Appeal
is here at last –
we need your Springs,
please send them fast.
.
With bounce and boing
we can help the cats,
the dogs, hedgehogs,
the inverted bats,
.
chickens, geeses, timid meeces,
goats, birds, fishes, monkeys,
cows, horses, Sheep and donkeys,
and all manner of those in need,
who could all be helped
if you could just help us
with a Springy deed.
I am your sofa,
I am your climbing frame,
I am your waiter –
do you know ‘my’ name?
.
I keep you waiting,
I take too long,
I don’t give you enough,
I measure things wrong.
.
I take you out
when the weather is yuck,
I pull you away
from your choicest tuck.
.
I make you be quiet
when you are saying, ‘watch out!’
When there’s no one around
to whisper or shout.
.
I get up and do things
when your need is for hugs,
and I leave you for ‘years!’
so you chew up the rugs.
.
I suppose that you need me
to be at your beck and call;
but I’d quite like a moment,
though you’d like them all.
It was Christmas Eve in the bake house,
and there wasn’t a crumb in sight;
for the little creatures had all been festive
through the long, dark silent night.
.
“Where are the loaves and the rolls,
where the baps and buns;
how shall we feed the bishops,
the friars and the nuns?”
.
The mice didn’t care two figs,
the owls didn’t give two hoots,
the birds and bees, and two large fleas,
were full unto their boots.
.
It was Christmas Day in the bakehouse,
and the baker had work to do,
to feed the rich, fat, and religious,
while we had but a crust to chew.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #birds, #Inequality, #Mice, #Owl, #poetry. #poem, #Poor, #Rich, animals, Christmas
It has, since, been revealed, that the sheep were in the large undulating field.
The cows were in an adjacent field to the one that the sheep were in.
And the three horses were currently tearing at some short-bladed shrub grass in the field beyond that.
There were no pigs in any of the fields.
Alpacas (or Llamas) might have been present in the triangular-shaped field near to the stream. but no one could confirm this.
Goats had been kept in the ‘Paddock’ as it was called, but they had eaten their way to freedom, and their current whereabouts were unknown – even to themselves.
That was all you could say about the inhabitants (or not) of the fields beyond Northleigh Ferrers.
Not that it was of any interest to anybody.
My human …
gives me food.
My human ….
gives me water.
My human …
gives me love …
and protection …
and a place to stay …
and so much more.
If your human
doesn’t give you all these things …
then they darn well oughta!
Passed by a show of many a paw,
the Paw Law – as it was known –
made it illegal to own
a bear for the pursuits
of boxing, dancing, baiting,
or waiting upon tables.
The Paw Law stated,
‘This law enables
the Bears of England
freedoms unheard of before.’
Sadly, humans had their own law
which did ensure that ‘all’ animals were unequal,
and some moreso than others.
It would be another thousand years
before animals of all ilks (including elks)
were even considered to be like
sisters or brothers.
Change is slow,
as the immutability of the inhumanity of humanity
is always saying, ‘No!’
Rosie Craddovk
saved a haddock,
kept it in her bath.
.
Laura Lee
rescued a flea,
a wompom, and a giraffe.
.
Richard Tippopotamus…
said he didn’t like animals.
.
Whether it’s wrong,
or whether it’s right,
less people adopt a black cat,
than adopt a white.
.
I’d just like to say,
‘The colour doesn’t matter,
just please rescue a poor cat today.’
I sit alone
and think on things
that need to be thought about;
and then my mind wanders
like a thirsty animal seeking moisture in a drought;
I have no worms to put upon my hook,
and look! I have no hook,
upon my line.
That’s fine, as I have no desire
to catch a fish,
to end a life,
to have my picture taken
with one who didn’t get away.
I think upon all manner of things,
as I sit alone and don’t catch
a single fish all day.
Barely has a Thursday passed without somebody somewhere writing a short story about the plight of the stares.
Well, in recent history, anyway.
The stares were a small breed of mammal (akin to the marmoset) and that ‘were’ earlier in this sentence means that they no longer ‘are’ – so, I am talking about a lost species from long ago.
They had huge eyes that would lock onto yours (if you were looking at them) and they would never blink or lose eye contact until you were forced to break that link and then they could carry on their foraging for the tiny leaves that were their staple diet. Obviously, their tendency to do the weird eye-contact thing led to them being called ‘Stares.’
The last Stares were seen in the late nineteenth century in their native South American habitat. But,, as is the case with mankind’s attempts to see how something works they take it apart and can’t always put it back together.
The Stares (or Oculi Maclamutus) were thought by the native South Americans (mainly in Peru and Chile) to be a sign of the evil eye and many Stares were short-lived and only those in families (called ‘Lukks’) in the deepest darkest forests were able to flourish (their eyesight was most useful in the darkness).
All the above is obviously false and just an exercise on writing something with a tinge of believability. So, my apologies if the plight of the Occuli Maclamutus was at all distressing to you – It is, sadly, the case that a lot of other species are going / have gone this way.
So, spare a thought for the little ones that dwell in the jungles and the forests of the world – something must be done or we shall lose them (the little ones, the forests, and the world!)
When Duncan looked out of his window
When Duncan got up that rainy Sunday morning, he secretly wished that he had somebody to keep his secret wishes from.
But, he didn’t.
He put the kettle on (it didn’t suit him) so he took it off again and put a suit on (that only suited him slightly better).
Then he tried to make himself a cup of tea (he was an amateur magician, so he just imagined that he could do such things) and, as that was unsuccessful, he had a glass of water.
After his frugal breakfast he thought about what exciting things he could do on a wet Sunday in whatever month it was. He could go out, and… or, he could stay in.
So, he stayed in. Pottering about. “Expialidocious!” and “Impervious!” he would pronounce at odd moments; and once he even tried “Expelliarmus !“ the disarming spell (and then found that he had no arms – but, it did wear off after a while).
Duncan was most surprised to hear a knock at the door at around about a half past nine (it wasn’t his birthday – just a note to add detail; it also wasn’t a Tuesday). Duncan looked out of the window; but, as the window looked over the back garden and the door was at the front of the house, this didn’t help.
Duncan tried to open the front door. Then he decided to unlock it and try again. He unlocked the front door; then, he tried to open it, again.
Funnily, it opened this time (now that he had unlocked it). It was one of those stable doors (much better than the unstable ones) and you could open up a half of it, or both halves (or neither). Duncan opened up the bottom half and was greeted by a pair of legs (including ankles and accompanying booted feet).
“Hello!” greeted Duncan. “Can I help you?” (He was very polite)
A voice travelled under the door to reach his ears (it was the best available route) “Yes, I am looking for a Dormouse who goes by the name of Duncan – Duncan the Dormouse.”
“That would be me!” Duncan became all excited. “I am Duncan – Duncan the Dormouse; although my real name is ‘Duncan Theodore’ and I am a mouse; but, well, things get lost in translation when documents are hand-written. And, when I was a small mouse (I still am, actually) my mother used to say to me ‘Duncan, if you live to a ripe old age like your grandma, I’ll be surprised – and. do you know what? No? Well, she was often surprised. “
“But, there’s me going on and on and… can I invite you in for a glass of water?”
“No, thank you.” came the voice. “I was just carrying out a census. I have all the information that I need; thank you, again.” and the voice left (taking the legs and booted feet with it.
Duncan stood for a short while. Then a long while. Then closed the door, sadly.
Then Duncan went and looked out of his window.
Posted in children's, dormouse, story, tail, tale
Tagged #childrens, #dormouse, #tale, animals, story
Graeme Sandford 