Here's a small selection of our very favourite poems about animals.
LET ME MAKE A DIFFERENCE
An Activist's Prayer
By Jenny Moxham
Please let me make a difference God
Before I leave this Earth,
I want my life to be a life
Of true and lasting worth.
Please grant me time to make this world
As perfect as I can,
For all the dear animals
Abused and used by man.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,
Don't eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on your plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.
I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,
Dey wanna enjoy it, dey say humans destroyed it
An humans are out of dere mind,
Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeys
Dey all hav a right to a life,
Not to be caged up an genetically made up
By any farmer an his wife.
Turkeys just wanna play reggae
Turkeys just wanna hip-hop
Can yu imagine a nice young turkey saying,
'I cannot wait for de chop',
Turkeys like getting presents, dey wanna watch christmas TV,
Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel pain
In many ways like yu an me.
I once knew a turkey called...Turkey
He said "Benji explain to me please,
Who put de turkey in christmas
An what happens to christmas trees?",
I said "I am not too sure turkey
But it's nothing to do wid Christ Mass
Humans get greedy an waste more dan need be
An business men mek loadsa cash'.
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
Invite dem indoors fe sum greens
Let dem eat cake an let dem partake
In a plate of organic grown beans,
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
An spare dem de cut of de knife,
Join Turkeys United an dey'll be delighted
An yu will mek new friends 'FOR LIFE'.
Find out more about Benjamin at:
By M. Butterflies Katz
A shocking selfishness surrounds everywhere
as brainwashed people show that they do not care
that an infant satisfies their appetite.
They eat someone's baby with utter delight.
When a waitress asks, 'Would you like lamb or veal?'
It is someone's child that you choose for your meal.
It's not even disguised, so what's the excuse
for partaking in this cruel form of abuse?
The disturbing fact of what the masses eat
is covered up by words that make it discreet.
No masked name has been given to 'lamb', like 'pork',
People eat babies with a knife and a fork.
If an alien came and visited Earth,
craving to eat the child to which you gave birth,
You'd see it otherwise; the way animals see.
You would abhor the slaughtering industry.
Culture and tradition are, in part, to blame,
but we're humans, not robots, who CAN feel shame.
Take the first step to awaken your senses,
and boycott this practice of false pretenses.
This barbaric custom simply makes no sense,
and certainly has no ethical defense.
Eating a baby without even a thought;
A lie well told and sold that humanity bought.
Read more from this poet at:
A HUNTER'S POEM
by Lem Ward
A hunter shot at a flock of geese
That flew within his reach,
Two were stopped in their rapid flight
And fell on the sandy beach.
The male bird lay at the water's edge
And just before he died,
He faintly called to his wounded mate
And she dragged herself to his side.
She bent her head and crooned to him
In a way distressed and wild,
Caressing her one and only mate
As a mother would a child.
Then covering him with her broken wing
And gasping with failing breath,
She laid her head against his breast
A feeble honk ...then death!
This story is true, though crudely told,
I was the man in this case,
I stood knee deep in snow and cold
And the hot tears burned my face.
I buried the birds in the sand where they lay,
Wrapped in my hunting coat,
And I threw my gun and belt in the bay
When I crossed in the open boat.
Hunters will call me a right poor sport
And scoff at the thing I did,
But that day something broke in my heart ...
And shoot again? God forbid!!
VOICE OF THE VOICELESS
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
So many gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.
I am the voice of the voiceless:
Through me, the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world's ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.
From street, from cage and from kennel,
From jungle, and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
Of the mighty against the frail
For love is the true religion,
And love is the law sublime;
And all is wrought, where love is not
Will die at the touch of time.
Oh shame on the mothers of mortals
Who have not stopped to teach
Of the sorrow that lies in dear, dumb eyes,
The sorrow that has no speech.
The same Power formed the sparrow
That fashioned man-the King;
The God of the whole gave a living soul
To furred and to feathered thing.
And I am my brother's keeper,
And I will fight his fight;
And speak the word for beast and bird
Till the world shall set things right.
THE FAMILY DOG
The family's dog was bought to guard,
Chained to a post in a chilly backyard,
Housed in a shed that was airless and dark,
And every few weeks had a run in the park.
When boredom set in with no fun and no work,
One day it broke loose and went quietly berserk.
Pa couldn't fathom just why it went wild,
As it flattened his wife and then bit his child.
The police were called in to sort out the mess,
And the whole sorry tale was revealed in the press.
The Rescue Society was really annoyed,
So, the dog was re-homed, and the owners destroyed.
By George Bernard Shaw
We are the living graves of murdered beasts,
Slaughtered to satisfy our appetites.
We never pause to wonder at our feasts,
If animals, like men, can possibly have rights.
We pray on Sundays that we may have light,
To guide our footsteps on the path we tread.
We're sick of War, we do not want to fight -
The thought of it now fills our hearts with dread,
And yet - we gorge ourselves upon the dead.
Like carrion crows, we live and feed on meat,
Regardless of the suffering and pain
We cause by doing so, if thus we treat
Defenseless animals for sport or gain,
How can we hope in this world to attain
The PEACE we say we are so anxious for.
We pray for it, o'er hecatombs of slain,
To God, while outraging the moral law.
Thus cruelty begets its offspring - WAR