Iris Tennent

Earby, Lancashire, UK

I was born 16th July 1928, in Levenshulme, Manchester. I married James Young Tennent, 16th April 1949. I have four sons, Stephen James, David Young, Paul Martin, Mark Scott, they are married with families. I have six grand-daughters, four grand sons, one great grand daughter. I love poetry, and writing stories. I love walking, anything to do with the countryside. Nature is a wonderful thing, we should help protect our wildlife, and our surroundings. We only have one chance to care for our world we live in.

The Romanian Babies

They are small human beings who lie on their beds.
with little strength left, they rock their heads.
No where to go,
no where to lie,
we are just left here to die.
They are alone with despair in their eyes
weak, so you won't hear their cries.
Left on their own
filth ridden mattresses
are these babies home.
We are the innocents, left to suffer so
no home, no warmth, or food,
no where to go.
We just want to cuddle
someone to hold
care for us, and love us
and shut out the cold.
Please GOD listen to our prayers,
and send someone, who really cares.

Survival

Fly high bird, fly high
away from man's lead death.
Your feathers scorched from bullets,
as you gasp your last breath.

Run fox run,
your freedom depends on your speed,
as the hunters close in, they do not care how you bleed.

Burrow, rabbit, burrow
dig as deep as you can.
The small beady eyes
and ferrets teeth,
you cannot hide from man.

Swim, whale, swim
away from the sharp harpoon,
no peace for you
until the water is stained red
instead of blue.

They call it sport,
but to an animal, or bird
trying to survive.
Life is hard enough, just to live.

Battery Farming

We never see the fields, or sky,
not much room to move, or lie.
They feed, and fatten us, just to sell,
we are animals, so we have no feelings,
no thought to secretion, on walls, and ceilings.
Oh! for the freedom we had, in green fields
munching, and somewhere to lie.
Not cramped, and miserable, until we die.