| The following poems have all been written by Jenny
Moxham.
They Will
Never Know A Spring
Autumn
Grey
I Only Saw
Her For An Instant
Battery
Hen
Freedom
For Birds
It Just
Isn't Fair
What is
Baby Drinking?
They Will Never Know A Spring
As I walked along
the street today
My heart began to
sing
For I passed a mass
of daffodils
And I felt the joy
of Spring.
...
I marvelled at the
colours
Of the flowers
everywhere
And it filled my
heart with pleasure
To see trees no
longer bare.
...
Then I thought of
all the animals
And no more my
heart could sing
And I ached for all
the millions
Who will never know
a Spring.
...
I thought of pigs
in factory farms
In squalid, filthy
pens
And I thought of
spider-ridden sheds
Stacked up with
battery hens.
...
They'll
never see a ray of sun
Their hearts
will never sing
Locked away from
life and beauty
They will
never know a spring.
...
Autumn Grey
It's so heavenly in
Autumn when the world is all aglow,
With russet gold
and amber leaves that fall like gentle snow.
And when the ground
is carpeted in brilliant Autumn gold,
It's like a new and
wondrous world too glorius to behold.
...
But there's a place
in Autumn where no colour's ever seen,
Where red and gold
and russet leaves have never, ever been.
A place that man
invented without yellow, gold or red,
Where those who
dwell within it's walls soon wish that they were
dead.
...
The factory farm in
Autumn is a bleak and dismal grey;
Grey concrete,
steel and cobwebs, each dark and gloomy day.
And every pig
imprisoned here shows fear in her face
For the workers
beat them savagely within this brutal place.
...
And tethered pigs
have metal chains embedded in their necks,
Whilst others,
locked in narrow stalls, can't even take two steps.
And sows can barely
stand because of lesions on their feet,
And stressed and
panic-stricken pigs are too afraid to eat.
...
Inside these walls
they'll never see a gaily coloured leaf;
Instead of joy
they'll only feel an all-pervading grief;
They'll never know
the glory of a wondrous Autumn day,
Condemned, instead,
to languish in a tragic world of grey.
...
I Only Saw Her For An Instant
I only saw her for
an instant
As the cattle truck
sped by
Yet that fleeting,
brief encounter
Was enough to make
me cry.
...
What struck me was
her dignity.
So regal! Head held
high;
And I cried because
I knew the way,
Too soon, she'd
surely die.
...
She looked every
inch a lady;
So deserving of
respect.
The brutal, bloody
fate in store
I prayed she'd not
suspect.
...
She'd never harmed
a living soul
Yet hands unfit to
touch her,
Would soon
transform her regal form
And beat and bruise
and clutch her.
...
For her there'd be
no comfort
As the 'final hour'
drew near;
No loving, tender
touch
To make it easier
to bear.
...
Instead she'd see
the terror
In the frantic,
fear-filled eyes
Of the ones who
went before her.
Then their last
blood-curdling cries.
...
What cruel, unjust
and callous world
To break this
gentle heart!
Eyes glazed with
fear, my lovely queen
Would soon be
ripped apart.
...
Battery Hen
Can you imagine how
I feel
Condemned to life
within a place,
Where I cannot
ever take a step
Because there is no
space?
...
Can you imagine how
I'm aching;
How I long to flap
my wings?
I've swollen feet
and knee joints
And the pain
debeaking brings.
...
Each day's a living
nightmare
Of uninterrupted
pain,
For my
feather-pecking cell mates
Have already gone
insane.
...
Each day seems an
eternity,
Yet one more day to
dread.
I've runny sores
and tumours
And I wish that I
were dead.
...
And I wonder if, at
breakfast,
With my egg upon
your plate,
You ever think
about me
Or my cruel and
tragic fate.
...
And when your
breakfast's over
And you toss away
my shell
Do you realise that
the cost to me
Was one whole day
in hell?
Freedom For
Birds
A tall forest tree
is a cockatoo's home
So why must I stay
in this cage all alone?
I'm bored, sad and
lonely with nothing to do,
Each day is the
same with the very same view.
...
I watch the birds
soaring high over the trees,
And I long to fly
with them aloft on the breeze,
Seeing new places
each wondrous new day,
Swirling and
twirling in glorious play.
...
Just one week ago a
stranger passed by
She saw me and knew
that a bird longs to fly.
She asked if you'd
think about setting me free,
You said, 'This
bird's special' and wouldn't agree.
...
Well, if I am
'special' please think how I feel,
I'm not a stuffed
toy I'm alive and I'm real.
I'm not made of
stone I have feelings like you,
Life's not just for
humans; this world is mine too.
...
So now I am hoping
and praying you'll see,
That to love a
thing truly you must set it free,
For it matters not
whether you're big or you're small,
A life without
freedom is no life at all.
It Just Isn't
Fair
The rain falls in
torrents,
The icy winds
blow,
But the sheep in
the paddock
Have no place to
go.
...
No warm barn for
shelter.
No bushes ... no
trees,
Just a bare
windswept plain
Where they shiver
and freeze.
...
They've been robbed
of their coats,
They've been shaven
and shorn,
Bedraggled and
cold
The sheep huddle
folorn.
...
They're chilled to
the bone
In the bitter cold
rain.
They're freezing to
death
On this cold,
windswept plain.
...
But folk in the
city
Share none of their
woes,
They're decked out
in wool
From their head to
their toes.
...
Wool jumpers, wool
jackets
Wool hats on their
heads.
In their homes
they've wool carpets,
Wool rugs on their
beds.
...
'Neath warm woollen
blankets
They blissfully
sleep,
Never giving a
thought
To the cold forlorn
sheep.
...
Whose coats have
been stolen
For humans to
wear.
Oh why can't they
see
That it just isn't
fair?
What is Baby
Drinking?
"What is baby
drinking?"
(He'd been watching
for a while).
'He's drinking
Mother's milk,' she answered
Sweetly with a
smile.
...
'What is milk?' the
child enquired,
'I'd really like to
know.'
'Why, milk's a
special baby food
That makes a baby
grow.'
...
She poured milk
from a carton
And sipped her cup
of tea.
The carton showed a
picture
Of a cow beneath a
tree.
...
His little brow was
furrowed
As he watched his
baby brother,
Then all at once he
cried, 'I see!
'That cow must be
your mother.'
...
'Oh, you're a funny
little man
To think a cow's my
mother!
Whatever gave you
such a thought
From watching baby
brother?'
...
'I saw you drink
her baby milk
So where then
is her baby?
And why do
you drink baby's milk
When you're a full
grown lady?'
...
'The farmer
killed her baby calf
Then took it's
milk,' said she
So I could have
some baby milk
To put into my
tea.
...
And as she spoke
these words to him
She realised what
she'd said,
And thought about
the mother cow
Her little
babe now dead.
...
She felt the
anguish of the cow
Her baby snatched
away.
She felt the fear
of the calf
Upon that fateful
day.
...
And looking down at
her sweet babe
Secure in her
embrace,
She knew the cow no
more could gaze
In her sweet
baby's face.
...
So then and there
she made a vow
To never more
partake
In killing calves
and taking milk
That isn't ours to
take.
...
Her little child
had made her see
As clearly as could
be
That cows' milk is
for baby calves
And Not for
you and me.
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