AngelOrb

Finty Kendrick.....in our memories always.

Daylight Robbery

They steal our eggs, a selfish need, we cannot fight, inside we bleed.

They rob us of our precious breed, now you can see, it's heartless greed.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Tit's Away!

A bonnie feathered messenger sat on my windowsill, all kinds of fluff and funny stuff was hanging from his bill,

he winked his tiny eyes at me his head turned to one side, as if to say 'get out of bed, from me you cannot hide'.

He flew back to his family to finish off his nest, and so I did as I was told and readily got dressed,

within about a second of him going he was there, and seemed to nod approvingly the dress I chose to wear.

This very cheeky chappy perched upon my windowsill, decided it was time to serenade me with his trill,

but after a few minutes all this tweeting got too much, so I put on my big size eights and kicked him into touch!

NOT REALLY!!!!!!!!!

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Zest?

Us skunks tend to stick close together, cos closer together is best, it's not about colour or perfume, (in fact I believe it has zest).

I s'pose you could say we are friendly, not meaning to harm or annoy, our perfume was never intended, to have inclinations and cloy.

There's Stinky and Stooky and Stanley, the latter I hasten to add, has not got the hang of his 'perfume', (in fact it's decidedly bad).

To all things us skunks have discovered, refining one's smell is an art, true perfume is nothing to sniff at, so think about this when you fart!

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

TOBA

We are all so busy that it's easy to forget, to stop and say a thankyou is the time. There are certain people that we owe tremendous debt, each day is another massive climb.

Working on regardless bringing sanctuary and peace to creatures, who are suffering and blind. Toba is just one of many bears to find release, now amongst a family brave and kind.

Toba and Ganesha worked as dancing bears you see, on the streets of India far away. Beaten and abused with not a chance of going free, 'entertaining' non-stop through the day.

Gentle Toba had gone blind when rescuers arrived, but he felt the gentle love they gave. Bless these splendid people, they found Toba, he survived, lucky to escape an early grave.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Rescuing Angus

I thought they'd never find me I'd almost given up, the snow just keeps on falling it's all I've had to sup.

My poor feet have no feeling and herein is the rub, I miss my cosy haybarn and piles of homegrown grub.

It's cold here in the highlands a heartless place to stay, I used to know the path home I fear I lost my way.

I'm looking for wee Jennie she knows just where I'll be, soon I'll be down the mountain and home in time for tea.

So spare a thought for Angus-eye Angus is my name, I can be very friendly some say I'm even tame.

They've brought along the digger so soon I shall be out, then I can shake this snow off my slowly thawing snout.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

Under Threat

I sit beneath an Alder tree, counting my badgers, one, two, three.

Admire their coats of black and white, look how they bring such sheer delight.

Some elder berries for their tea, watching my badgers, one, two, three.

Beneath the hedgerows lie the setts, with markings made if one forgets.

To drivers all I make this plea, counting my badgers, one, two, three.

Their lives last but some fourteen years, slow down a little, use your gears.

The government wont let them be, watching my badgers, one, two, three.

They want them dead, out of the way, but I think they deserve to stay.

They need us, and it’s plain to see, counting my badgers, one, two, three.

Leave them alone to live in peace, protect them now, make killing cease.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Happy Endings

I never had a pet when I was young, well that's a little lie-I had a fish.

But you can't cuddle fishes when you're sad, and close your eyes to make a magic wish.

Eight years ago whilst flicking through a mag, I spied a dog named Bess who'd been abused.

My thoughts of her began to nag and poke, such cruel treatment cannot be excused.

But Bess was traumatised and could not leave

the refuge, which would be her temporary stay.

We gave it just two weeks before we phoned, but by that time dear Bess had gone away.

Another owner and a brand new start, I was relieved but hoped she'd be alright.

Her face within my mind would tug my heart, from early morn' until the dead of night.

So we decided we would have a dog, one just like Bess to love and call our own.

We took the tiny mite into our lives, and told her she would never be alone.

So eight years on our Finty rules the roost, she's loved to bits and knows it that is true.

If not for Bess we would not have her here, where ere' she is I hope she's happy too!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Beyond Borders

For well over a million years the territory was theirs, from Turkey to the Russian east was home.

Siberia and then southward to the balmy Bali shores, where giant paws would skim the salty foam.

Alas the fate of many have now left a meagre few, to roam the Asian desert - no defence.

So save we must these soldiers, striped in beauty ,noble, strong, to try to show compassion, commonsense.

Six undefeated species live their lives on a knife edge, Amur, Bengal, Malayan fight their last.

South China, Indochinese, beyond borders none can touch, but now the time has come, the dye is cast.

A loss of habitat along with mankind’s lust and greed, robbed of their home but most of all, their right

to live as any other left alone, untouched and free, we must rise up and recognise their plight.

Too far from our protection, but a worthy soul to save, we must secure the fragile tiger lands.

Sustain the woods and forests, stop the ignorance of man, and poaching, tiger blood stains many hands.

Let’s go beyond the borders and preserve those we have left, help powers to revoke this hideous crime.

We cannot let these wondrous beasts fade into history, Stand up we must, protect, now is the time.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Little Fred in Dreamland

The sun brings peace and snoozy time, no finer way to be, I'm really glad that I'm a cat and not a busy flea.

For if I was a busy flea, there'd be no time to rest, and snoozing in the sunshine is the thing that I do best.

I've had my fill of climbing trees and chasing off the birds, and next door's cat is such a pain (with him I've had some words!)

My tum is full of supper, yes, I'm feeling quite replete, I doubt if I'll go out tonight, I'd rather rest my feet.

The sun is warm and comforting upon my masters bed, he likes me being close to him, I'm called his ' little Fred',

So I'll stay here and close my eyes, while he wades through his book, and maybe when he's gone to sleep, I'll have sneaky look!

I'm such a snoozy-woozy puss, who loves to bask and purr, once I am deep in dreamland, I will hardly ever stir.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

YOGI

No sadder start in life than this, no arms to hold, no tender kiss.

He has a long long way to go, his spirit is not flagging though.

Over the worst- we all should hope, sweet natured bear cub, off the rope.

He loves his washes, cuddles too, close contact only with the few.

Brown eyes are opened, all is well, how long the torment-who can tell?

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Too Late

The bars I sit behind are blurred, eyes sore with staring, old and tired.

I'm poked and looked at, never heard, gone is the freedom I desired.

A hand comes in and then retreats, just for a second, warmth and love.

The door ajar, how my heart beats, a flash of blue sky from above.

Into the garden I am placed, within my cage, built to protect.

All memory of this world erased, devoid of hope and true respect.

They mean no harm, I realise, I'm just a pet to entertain.

It is not easy to despise, they never caused me any pain.

Oh, what I'd give to spread my wings, to come alive, breathe in fresh air.

Know for a day, what freedom brings, but age rebels, I would not dare.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Mia

While walking through Sorrento cappuccino came to mind, along a quiet Italian street a cafe did we find.

We sipped the creamy liquid as we 'people watched' and smiled, with playful waves below us and the orange trees so wild.

Then suddenly a visitor all wrinkled and forlorn, arrived with her young master and my heart was truly torn.

He let us take some pictures and just for a little while, that little face smoothed out and I believe I saw a smile!

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Batty

We hang around in barns and lofts pretending to be dead, it's difficult to do while blood is rushing to your head.

And so it was decided I would turn the other way, my bloodflow is much better now-I make a good display!

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Wolfie

He was a giant with head held proud, a tail that wagged for England. A bark he now and then allowed-

His name was Wolfie.

In younger days a lightening streak, he’d charge o’er stream and river. A fearless heart- could still be meek,

Our dearest Wolfie.

Eyes large and deep the richest brown, could melt and tempt forever. And when at play-the gentlest clown,

Our dearest Wolfie.

Now with his friends in greener fields, they ‘hide and seek’ together. Eternal life that never yields,

His name was Wolfie.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

Two Shadows

He is her faithful messenger, her lookout from above, whose wings move slow and silent in the sky.

A shadow on the landscape, like a comforting black glove, quicksilver, he's a blur upon the eye.

She is his guardian, soldier, keeping watch upon the hill, so fleet of foot, no soul would hear a thing.

A shadow on the landscape, ears twitch back and forth at will, while through the air the chainsaws buzz and ring.

They are each other's bodyguard, reliable and true, a friendship that has lasted centuries long.

Two shadows on the landscape, underneath a sky of blue, the wolf and eagle, free, where they belong.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Raju-One Year On. The Last Dancing Bear

I'm pleased to say that Raju bear is doing very well,

he was the final icing on the cake.

So fine and fit is he, that you would never ever tell,

a year ago, he caused my heart to ache.

He settled in the sanctuary and found the will to eat,

in fact his appetite is very good.

An ever playful bear who knows when he deserves a treat,

I think he'd eat for England - if he could.

Raju has formed a friendship with another lovely bear,

his name is Tate, who offers comfort too.

For Raju danced and entertained the people everywhere,

non-stop performance for the greedy few.

 

Now all is as it should be and the healing has begun,

they take their naps together in the warm, embracing sun.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Healing Time -Peni.

I know she never will forget, the harshness of inhuman ways, now rescued from her pain and fear, still living in a heady daze.

At least she's safe with those who love and watch her, with a caring heart, they know that it will be a while, before they let this soul depart.

Her mother killed before her eyes, but saved by the committed few,nursed back to health, it took some time, but what a dedicated crew.

These are not pets to chain and hurt, kept from the trees they love to climb, their crime is innocence that's all, trapped by an underworld of slime.

Her home destroyed by mankind's greed, more palm oil needed, so no trees, mass clearance of her forest home and landslides bring all to their knees.

But Peni is a fighter true and she will heal and live again, no longer sleeping on the floor, her hammock rocks away the pain.

 

The Healing Time Pt.2 -Monte. Jo-Jo & Puyol

When Monte was a baby, he was taken from the wild, to be a pet and placed inside a cage.

A cage that was no bigger than a kitchen cabinet, my heart is filled with pure disgust and rage.

For thirteen solid years, he was a prisoner in chains, unable to move round or stretch his legs.

But people were alerted and they came to Monte's aid, and rescued him from all the low life dregs.

Young JoJo couldn't walk, in fact his cage was very small, his legs had not developed as they should.

But thanks to some intensive care, he built his muscles back, he's happy, though his bones are not that good.

They found Puyol tied up with rope, at only two years old, weighed 2.6 he looked a sorry sight.

Machete wounds had festered and his life was touch and go, what makes these people think they have the right?

Orangutans are fighters and this little one was too, he's 7k the wounds have nearly healed.

The shell he used to hide in has begun to slip away, still traumatised, but what a change revealed.

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

Tireless Knight

The week has started frantically, two blackbirds are at work, a new nest sits within the privet hedge.

From break of day to fading light, they never think to shirk, no breather taken by the window ledge.

With beaks stuffed full of twigs and grass and in-between a worm, if there is time, perhaps a drink or two.

The bird bath holds temptation, not that easy to stand firm, they have such little time, so much to do.

The nursery is hidden by a mass of tight green leaves, cool darkness, an escape route from the sun.

A fortress of protection from marauding feathered thieves, the cuckoo tops the list at number one.

When the springtime day says- 'Goodnight' despite fatigue blackbird explodes into song... 'Goodnight' aching wings endless searching 'Goodnight' ever vigilant watchful of his love 'Goodnight' sleep must come I must sing 'Goodnight' let us rest now all is peaceful...

So once again the day awakes, to music loud and clear, alarm call to the world-'tis time to start!

He skims the lawn by inches, my, this 'black knight' has no fear, sleek ebony, as true as any dart.

Then back and forth and in and out, the pattern never breaks, much further to another field or tree.

No matter what the distance or however long it takes, remaining strong and focussed is the key.

Night beckons all to down their tools and take a well earned rest, his partner calls and perches on the fence.

One final twig. a bunch of straw, to place upon the nest, then listen....let the serenade commence...

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Black Pepper

When Pepper takes a turn around the yard, he moves as smooth as silk, without a sound.

Makes catching mice and rats look far from hard, his velvet paws, a blurr upon the ground.

He leaves me for an hour or so at night, inquisitive and always on the prowl.

A non-agressive feline, hates to fight, he slithers into darkness at a growl.

A secret assignation I believe, lives two floors up, a sexy Siamese.

She claws her bed each time he takes his leave, then back he slinks, to lick and purr and tease.

When Pepper arrives home it's early dawn, he rubs his face in mine and gives a purr.

Then nestles down and gives a tired yawn, one final langerous lick upon his fur.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Clowns Next Door

The baby starlings form a queue, it's feeding time again,

their mum and dad know what to do, despite the wind and rain.

My weeks were quiet and so sublime before this noisy lot,

in next doors eves they've taken root, a raucous little squat!

Then suddenly, just yesterday, they started to appear,

and one by one they formed a line, the smallest at the rear.

Then back and forth the parents went, beaks laden down with food,

my feeder is quite empty now, they're such a hungry brood.

Consider then the starling, who is quite the little clown,

who frolics in the water bowl and preens his fluffy down.

Then goes in for another bout of splashing in the sun,

such playful tiny creatures, they deserve a bit of fun.

I could watch them feed for hours, so much better than TV,

in mother nature's garden, you can view it all for free.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Gaurdian At the Door

At the door she waits.

Curled up, white and tight.

Ears ever alert, even in sleep mode twitch at familiar sounds.

While little dreams whiz in and out her tiny head, jerking her feet.

Our guardian at the door, pretending to be fierce, when in her little heart she is only slightly brave.

She knows he will return.

When he does, he will bend and ruffle her impatient head with sweaty gym stained hands.

Her eyes follow him faithfully as he walks away.

No hope of repeat affection-not yet-not for a while.

But how she loves the feel of submission.

Curling paws raised against her face, the black button nose twitches in torment so delightful, her eyes grow into blobs of ink.

'Do you like me like this?'

Irresistible.

Never fails.

A silent pad into the kitchen where coffee perks and rice crackers pop.

Crumbs float down onto a pink tongue that darts out to grab and savor the moment.

A bark cuts the air and she feigns protection like so many times before.

 

At the door she waits.

Sat to attention, white and tight.

The lead will appear and the agonizing wait will pass.

Fresh air beckons with walks on the beach.

Our guardian at the door.

Unselfish.

Gives love unconditionally, only expecting just rewards as her makeup bids.

No more dreams, but dreams to make and save for later..

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Lone Swan

Her regal neck held high and proud,

bedecked in snow white feathered shroud,

moves silently upon the lake,

she dares the gentle waves to break.

 

Surveying through mysterious eyes,

her gentle journey 'neath the skies,

no mate in sight, no friendly call,

instead an echoing waterfall.

 

A longing beats within her breast,

she needs to find her home and rest,

another neck perhaps entwine,

to feel the warmth of love divine.

 

Her silken head dips long and deep,

cool droplets wake her from her sleep,

perhaps tomorrow she will find,

a true soul mate, devoted, kind.

 

As in slow motion on the lake,

her feet the gentle ripples break.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Autumn Watchdog

IShe watches me in silence from her bed of moldy leaves,

an early sun steals through the chilly air,

the crunch of twigs the smell of grass, what magic autumn weaves,

an errant cobweb hangs between each chair.

 

She watches me, eyes staring, as the rake whisks to and fro,

fat slugs take cover lest they be scraped up,

my compost heap gets taller, how much taller can it go?

She wishes she was still a playful pup.

 

The beetles run and scatter now disturbed from cosy sleep,

a worm escapes and wiggles out of sight,

decaying leaves now mingle with dead flowers and things that creep,

a shame that they will never see the light.

 

One Japanese Anemone stands swaying in the breeze,

a final stand against the coming change,

my Finty gives a sigh before surrendering to a sneeze,

not hard enough my pile to rearrange.

 

She watches me and shudders as the wind begins to bite,

the sky is hung with clouds, it will be clear again tonight.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Finty in Autumn

There's a rustle in the garden and some movement in the trees,

a sniffle and a snuffle which results in one big sneeze,

muddy paws have been a-digging in the undergrowth again,

she thinks she's still puppy but she's ten.

 

Dahlia petals are a-dangling from a mouth that will explore,

a leaf in every corner of the garden she will claw,

muddy paws have been a-digging in the undergrowth again,

she thinks she's still a puppy but she's ten.

 

Once a nose so black and shiny is now caked in mold and mud,

the white coat of a 'westie' now looks like a grubby spud,

muddy paws have been a-digging in the undergrowth again,

she thinks she's still a puppy but she's ten.

 

So this little body tumbles in the Autumn leaves again,

she thinks she's still a puppy but she's ten.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

10 Years Young

Ten isn't such an awful age to be,

in girls and boys it brings more joy and glee,

but when you are a doggie,

certain things become a sloggie,

cos you're into the old 60's can't you see.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

 

Bee-dazzled

Perhaps if I stay very still it might just buzz away,

if not, my eyes will stay like this forever.

I'm trying to remember what my mummy said to me,

'keep cool' she said 'and you will soon endeavour'.

 

But that was half an hour ago and teatime's been and gone,

my tummy needs it's daily bowl of fishes.

And here I am inanimate, a statue in a fix,

existing on imaginings and wishes.

 

Maybe a sudden movement would dislodge this wicked beast,

the shock might do the trick - who am I kidding?

As long as it can smell my fear, I'm stuck here now for life,

those beady eyes are looking quite forbidding!

 

(and there are quite a few of them now!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Seals Off Blakeney Point

Though the skies are grey and the rain bares down,

I am safe and sound-I could never drown.

Come and watch me dance, like a tumbling clown,

with the seals off Blakeney Point.

 

For my flippers move like the swiftest fish,

as the waves bounce off, with a whoosh and swish.

Come and join me here and fulfill your wish,

with the seals off Blakeney Point.

 

Watch me dive and skim, dodge the bubbling foam,

coming up for air, my smooth head a dome.

Shining wet and fresh, in this sea - my home,

with the seals off Blakeney Point.

 

For no matter what, whether rain or shine,

if the winds be harsh with the sting of brine.

This is where I live and the world's all mine,

with the seals off Blakeney Point.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Little Suns

A gathering of sun's beneath an ocean vast and wide,

like myriad 'black eyed susan's' seeking rest.

Free falling, then converging with the strong ebb of the tide,

in salty azure waters heading west.

 

A journey that will take them to a nesting coral reef,

where sunlight hits through waves so warm and calm.

It's there that I shall meet them with a cry of disbelief,

to gather shoals of gold within my arm.

 

We twirl and sing in silence, leaving bubbles in our wake,

a hundred shimmering bodies melt in one.

See how they dart and scatter, like small pebbles on a lake,

transforming into statues in the sun.

 

A gathering of sun's beneath an ocean vast and wide,

free falling, then converging with the strong ebb of the tide.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Return of Igor

A tortoise takes life nice and slow, or so I've always thought,

one slow step at a time, no need to rush.

Chomp chomping on fresh lettuce leaves, the crisp and frilly sort,

no noise is heard, a masticating hush.

 

My dearest friend Virginia owned a tortoise big and strong,

named Igor, he had travelling in his veins.

He dreamed of sailing seven seas, in ships both short and long,

or wandering down some sunny, sleepy lanes.

 

Imagine Ginny's horror, when one morning she did find,

an empty box, left soaking in the rain.

Discarded leaves, an apple core and mouldy orange rind,

old Igor had run off and slipped the chain.

 

Poor Ginny lost it right away and gave a mighty shout-

'My Igor's gone-wherever can he be?!'

And from their homes her friendly neighbours' all came running out,

to soothe poor Ginny and the family.

 

With posters plastered high and low, on every tree and wall,

and everybody hunting far and wide.

Beneath old pots and compost heaps and sheds both large and small,

in any orifice Igor would hide.

 

The weeks went by and then the months, with no Igor in sight,

harsh winter snow had covered all the ground.

Virginia tried to keep a grip, but then, to her delight,

a message down the grapevine-'Igor found!'

 

A kindly neighbour found the beast inside a sheltered hole,

the bottom of the garden it had seemed.

Protected from the elements, into this place he'd stole,

to plan his next 'day trip'- or so he'd dreamed.

 

The sun had tempted Igor out and melted all the snow,

he quite forgot about his travelling ways.

He's back with happy Ginny, eating with a hearty glow,

She says-'He's back with me and here he stays!'

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Paw Prints

My tiny paw sinks deep into the cold unblemished snow,

I glance from 'neath the bushes, what direction I should go?

A flake of snow lands on my nose, it melts into my skin,

another furtive glance before the second paw sinks in.

 

How strange this earth can sometimes be, to change from cold to warm, from sunny days and dusty paths, to rain and thunderstorm.

My prints embedded in the white, with not a single sound,

I leave a dainty trail of holes, upon the snowy ground.

 

I watch the robins dart around, from bush to coated branch,

they take off in a flurry, causing quite an avalanche!

Which causes me to back away and seek out somewhere dry,

before another snowflake lands and melts into my eye!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Finty's Face

I see a face that's filled with love,

a playful frame, she likes to shove,

and bury deep in carrier bags,

expecting treats, instead of nags.

 

I see a face as sweet as fudge,

a twitching nose that loves to nudge,

with ears that point up to the sky,

a cheeky twinkle in each eye.

 

I see a face of faith and trust,

who doesn't like the words 'I must-

not' stick my nose in ladies bags,

expecting treats instead of nags.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Master

The dog I own is insecure, a most affectionate beast,

wherever I may wander, he does too.

We always share the bath tub and the annual harvest feast,

in fact Macmillan sticks to me like glue.

 

I've had him since a puppy and I should have seen the signs,

the day I found him snuggled in my bed.

No use in setting ground rules, I am done with drawing lines,

I wonder sometimes what's inside his head.

 

I wish he had a girlfriend or took up some other thing,

like burying bones or running in the park.

Forget about new friendships, I'm the one he wants to cling,

I wish that I could even make him bark.

 

But no, he sits in silence with those huge adoring eyes,

believing that he is my only kin.

So here among the bubbles I begin to realise,

he'll nudge that bar of soap and I'll give in!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Adieu to the Doves

My collared doves rest in the sun, oblivious to the Magpies drone,

within my heart I start to fret, for soon they may be left alone.

A family with a feline pet will move into our dear old house,

it may well take a fancy to my feathered friends-forget the mouse.

My gentle ones must watch their backs,

in case this feline foe attacks.

I am quite certain that it will,

I pray that it won't make a kill.

My collared doves have other haunts, some neighbours have a caring heart, but still I dread the fateful day, when from this house we might depart.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Wesley

A partnership that was to last some nineteen years,

held very close this little chap allayed all fears.

In healing him this woman strove to stay alive,

fought painful demons from her head, yes-and survive.

A withered wing, unsteady gate small eyes alert,

he seemed to take the burdons of his owners hurt.

There grew a bond as strong as any truer friend,

that never died or failed even until the end.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Westie Rules

We set out from the start to lay down rules, we hoped and prayed,

maybe it went down hill the few weeks after she was spayed?

Determined and so dogged was this little ball of fluff,

I think she put her foot down then and there, one bark-'Enough!'

'I'll do my best to climb the stairs, although they're out of bounds,

I'm not as stupid as I look, I'm mistress of all hounds.

I'll push my way into your bed and settle in-between,

I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I'm a Scottish Queen'.

She has us tied and tethered, it is us should wear the lead,

the paper holds an interest, and I'm sure that she can read.

But when the clock strikes breakfast, teatime, cuddles and a walk,

that's when we have some 'me' time and we actually get to talk!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

‘Tobe’ slices through grass like a blurred golden wave,

his coat flows and ripples a spirit on fire,

a heart filled with passion unselfish and brave,

wet nostrils flared ready incensed with desire.

 

Tail raised like a flag body flicks left then right,

he chases the birds while the butterflies play,

strong legs thunder on in abandoned delight,

a bark and a shake but aware not to stray.

 

‘Tobe’ nudges a nose far more dainty than his,

not wanting to linger but needing to stop,

desiring to sniff still resisting to whizz,

impatient to move but the heat makes him drop.

 

His wet tongue lolls out and he pants out defeat,

while Jays swoop and tease him secure in their sky,

a second wind comes and he gets to his feet,

then up and away with a hurried goodbye.

 

Catch you next time Toby!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

MacTavish was a fearsome breed, a monarch of the heather,

with tongue as sharp as thickest gorse and pads of cattle leather.

He's traveled many stony paths and battled through all weather, MacTavish of MacTavish moved as soundless as a feather.

 

The springtime was his favorite time, when flowers bud and bloom,

the mist would rise above the glen and lift away the gloom.

The pungent smell of towering pines and freshly dew kissed broom, MacTavish of MacTavish was the opposite of doom.

 

In summer he'd chase bird and bee perhaps a leaping salmon,

and if he met a friendly soul, a tasty slice of gammon.

His favorite treat I have heard tell, a piece of home made stollen, MacTavish of MacTavish like a bee immersed in pollen.

 

Come Autumn and the air turned cool with frosts to burn your nose,

but with a coat so thick and black MacTavish never froze.

Beneath the bracken he would stop, sometimes to take a doze,

MacTavish of MacTavish looked an angel in repose.

 

When winter chill and bitter gales seared through the purple heather,

tall pines bent low in fond farewell to welcome snowy weather.

Imprinted in fresh fallen drifts those footprints made of leather, MacTavish of MacTavish moved as soundless as a feather.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The legend of Hamish and MacTavish

Inseparable this twosome, tho' yet many years between,

the bonnie wiley Hamish from the clan they call McBean.

Paired with old Jock MacTavish, that great scoundrel of the glen,

they roamed the craggy mountains, through the heather and the fen.

 

Defending and unending in the fight to stay as one,

avoiding traps so spiteful, ducking from the farmer's gun.

When pheasants plump and tasty wandered boldly into view,

was time for Jock and Hamish to wade in and take a few.

 

So brazen and amazing both would scatter far and wide,

fine games of true bravado, they would seek and they would hide.

When bitter snows start falling see them dart among the pine,

then scramble to attention when they spot a quarry fine.

 

They say you hear the echo of a woof and then a bark,

tis Hamish and MacTavish chasing shadows in the dark.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Wee Beasties

They called him 'wee beastie' - but how wrong they were,

young Hamish 'Loch Duff' was as sharp as a burr,

a giant among 'woofers', his lineage top notch,

who'd sniff out a pheasant, the finest malt scotch.

 

From wealthy beginnings, his own silver spoon,

a heritage linked to the clan of MacLoon,

the laird's name was Martin- but most called him Jack,

his large wife Fiona enjoyed 'whisky mac'.

 

He guarded the family, not one soul set foot,

on hearing the bark with those eyes black as soot,

the sweet smell of whisky hung thick in the air,

MacLoon would play bagpipes then fall off his chair.

 

All weekends were favourite, through heather they'd roam,

wee Hamish forgot the strange ways of his home,

but unknown to him watchful eyes followed too,

'neath briar and bracken, a scottie so true.

 

(One day the bold westie from home fires would vanish,

and join in adventure with 'braveheart' MacTavish),

the old wiley hound studied Hamish 'Loch Duff',

with a wink and a nod he had fair seen enough.

 

So approaching young Hamish with stiff jaunty gate,

the scottie did woof-'is he always that state?'

For Jack was a-wobbling back down to the house,

a-tangling in brambles and squashing a grouse.

 

Young Hamish ruffed loudly (more bluff than all bluster)

MacTavish smiled wryly (t'was all he could muster)

'Tis only I thought, you should maybe take heed,

escape easy living-a friend you could need.'

 

Well, Hamish stopped ruffing and eyed up this hound,

who seemed to think nothing of standing his ground,

'How came you to think maybe I need a friend?

You sound like MacLoon-and he's clear round the bend!

 

How come such a beastie with coat wiry black,

assumes in my life there is something I lack?'

MacTavish sat thoughtfully, scratching an ear,

'Och, maybe there's something much better than here.

 

I see you're a spirit, trapped deep in a rut,

I used to be like that, a miserable mutt.'

'A rut is it scottie?' young Hamish growled low,

'Now you tell me truly, which path should I go'?

 

'Why, follow me Hamish, adventures you'll find,

forget Jack the Loonie, leave all this behind',

and Hamish thought-'maybe I need change of pace,

with long years ahead I could do with some space'.

 

With a yelp and tail wagging,young Hamish barked 'yes'!

he gave one more woof, (but this was to impress),

MacTavish stood firm as he barked a 'Hellooooooo'

and the bond it was forged between the bonnie two.

 

They say since that day Hamish never looked back,

no tear filled his eye when he thought of mad Jack,

together forever he stuck with his friend,

MacTavish and Hamish -still true to the end.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Finty & I

Partners

Steadfast and true she is God's little gift,

always brings laughter and fun,

whether it's frollicking down by the sea,

or posing for snaps in the sun.

 

Cheeky right down to the tip of her tail,

artful as artful can be,

walking for miles across clifftop and field,

feeling delightfully free.

 

She is my love, dear companion and friend,

giving is all that she knows,

trusting and faithful and easy to please,

see in her eyes how it shows.

 

Always so pleased when you walk through the door

grateful to be where you are,

just a soft bed and some food in a bowl

an occassional trip in the car.

 

Six she will be come this August '08,

Finty a lady will be,

numbers mean nothing when you're having fun,

with Finty, her 'daddy' and me.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

FINTY

Today I am six

I deserve lots of licks

so fill up my bowl

with my favourite 'bix'!!!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Pals

I feel your warmth against my cheek,

old pals we are no need to speak,

my solid true reliable friend,

with us there is no make-pretend.

Long hours we spend in thoughtful walks,

nobody hears our private talks,

just you and I to share the day,

close by my side you vow to stay.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Bootiful (Kittens in Boots)

He needed somebody to keep his boots warm,

and so we obliged 'cos we're like that you see,

we are truly glad for outside there's a storm,

if we do our job there's some warm milk for tea!

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

Faithful

He brings joy and love to those who need most,

with a heart warm and great, there is no need to boast,

his spirit is strong, this dear faithful friend,

will guide, and keep faithful, right until the end.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Two Heartbeats

Nestled between two giant heartbeats

beneath me mud soft and cool,

blissful repose we quietly doze

not to move is the first golden rule,

much better than going to school!.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

RUPERT

Rupert

Rupert is a grumpy soul his own company he loves,

has no time for social life anyone who bores he shoves,

secret stores of food are kept hidden in his tarten bed

woe betide a nosey guest soon makes Rupert see red.

 

Anna is our Rupert's mum speaks with lilting Polish charm,

see him smile and soften, snuggles closely by her arm,

Finty keeps her distance too, spies Rupert as he eats,

knowing that her time will come to devour unwanted treats.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Jess

A heart that knew all wood and dell,

a spirit free to roam,

such love within a humble soul,

lit up our lives at home.

Soft eyes of friendship ever look,

to be regarded well,

at last to rest beneath the oak,

where kindred spirits dwell.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

 

'Ferdi'

They tried to take you from me

but you can never leave,

for if we ever parted

my broken heart would grieve.

 

I've known you since a puppy

we've seen a lot of life,

they can't see what they're doing

it cuts just like a knife.

 

I will not let them take you

I'll make them understand,

stay close and just keep silent

it's alright 'Ferdinand'.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Mother, Cat and Me

Dear Bess, they took you far away, so far I would not see,

now all that's left here of my life, is mother, cat and me.

You did not have to leave me here, sobbing on my bed,

the old oak cart is waiting, thanksgivings have been read.

It's quiet and still around the house, your rug lies cold and bare,

and all that I can do now, is just stupidly stand and stare.

I  see you oh so clearly, lying frozen in the hay,

oh Bess, they just don't realise, how hard each night I pray.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

A Hippo's 'Tail' ...

Oh to be a hippo, basking in the mud.

effortessly floating in the swamp,

sitting down with a thud.

 

Oh to be a hippo, soaking in the scum,

I wish some one would swat the fly

that's buzzing round my bum!

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Boy and the Horse

You know me as I know myself,

through touch and taste and smell,

although our meeting has been brief,

we know each other well.

 

I feel your shape, each dip and curve,

eyelashes brush my hand,

although our meeting has been brief,

we know and understand.

 

I taste fresh apple on my tongue,

a juicy one to share,

although our meeting has been brief,

we learn to love and care.

 

I smell the scent upon your coat,

the musk of new mown hay,

although our meeting has been brief,

we treasure this today.

 

You know me as I know myself,

before the darkness came,

although our meeting has been brief,

we play our silent game.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Take Note (Animal Cruelty)

A heart that beats, a mind that thinks,

but iron bars break through sanity,

thus turning to depravity,

how low a human being sinks.

 

An innocence so pure and good,

an undefended soul brought down,

how falls the high and mighty crown,

a message to be understood.

 

So vulnerable in every way,

a thug who comes to maim and harm,

cause much distress upon this farm,

the torture that won't go away.

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Celebrate Raju

Dear gentle giant who has known only the torture of chaffing rope

now to be set free

bless Raju

Bijli

Toba(read the poem)

Ganesha(read the poem)

All the blind bears in Agra

Chitra-the 500th bear

Julia - the little cub

Percy

Ratna

Anuja

 

NB.More than 600 bears are safe in sanctuary

Remember this-

A contented bear hums...wonderful sound.

 

Three cheers for *IAR-Blessings and love to all.xxx

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Finty - Caister beach

Finty

She walks beside me,

her footsteps soft and sure,

eyes bright as buttons watch the river,

wanting to discover more,

grasses sway, a nose twitches,

scaling moss banks,exploring ditches.

ears ever alert, to sounds that threaten,

then a sniff, a growl, and bark to deafen,

still very young, new to this life,

so much to learn, so much to see,

the path winds onwards beneath soaring gulls,

my little faithful friend and me.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Plumes

In regal black, heads proudly bow,

high kicking hooves pounding the way,

commanding figure sits atop

a carriage prepared for the day.

 

Plumed feathers stirred by winter air,

trained blinkered eyes stare straight ahead,

knowing by nature where they're bound,

gentle the journey for their dead.

 

Steadily pacing, almost there,

admiring eyes watching them pass,

soon all will be a memory,

home to warm hay and verdant grass.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Braemar

Companion to the end, stands guard not to ignore,

nose twitches to and fro, his smell is never poor,

dear faithful friend adorned in colours black and white,

excited wagging tail, eyes sparkle with delight,

happy to sit and wait, ears rest upon the floor,

all peace and quiet until the knock upon the door,

deep trusting eyes give way to sleep and playful dream,

of luscious bones and bowls, brimfull with meat supreme...

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

They Have No Voice

Beaten, bruised and left for dead,

stabbed, found dying in the street,

tears forbidden, cannot shed,

they have no voice.

 

Stripped of love, kind words and care,

forced into a cruel retreat,

fists that hit, a broken chair,

they have no voice.

 

Never loved shown only hate,

everyday to face abuse,

meekly go to meet their fate,

they have no voice.

 

Eyes tormented ache to cry,

bodies throb from bruises harsh,

wishing only they could die,

they have no voice.

 

To escape this tunnel deep,

loving light shines from above,

rescue tortured innocents,

we have a voice.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Alice-private photo Sue Fry

Alice

Hello, my name is Alice, I visit every week,

I let kids touch and stroke me, because I cannot speak,

my mummy reassures me that I am doing good,

she is so proud of me, for I never knew I could!

 

Before we visit Havens I'm taken for a walk,

so I can be relaxed while kids sit with me and talk,

I think they really love me because I love them back,

gets better every time cos I know I have the knack.

 

The children treat me gentley because they are not well,

their hands are soft and loving and such a lovely smell,

I like it here at Havens, I feel just like a star ,

my mummy says with practice I'm bound to go quite far.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Prisoner

Why am I here what is this place?

Would only these tired feet retrace,

release me back from whence I came,

never to see this place again.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Lady

Lady

Perfect oval lipstck red

spots dotted in black

winging gently through the air

will she make it back?

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

Four Legged Friend and Me

We took to the open road

my four legged friend and me,

I didn't make any plans

decided to just break free,

step down through the old farm track

and follow deep tractor marks,

whistling our favourite song

in-between birdsong and barks,

just kick at a stone or two

throwing one high for my friend,

see how he loves to find them

and skitters around the bend,

oh hey but we're hungry so

maybe we'll head right on back,

tomorrow we'll try our luck

find another path to track.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Bullet

Bullet by nature Bullet by name,

not out for fortune nor for the fame,

I and my partner out on patrol,

sniffing for bad drugs that is my goal,

I am still young though training is hard,

but I enjoy it I'm always on guard,

I get rewarded because I'm good,

doing what every police dog should.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Wires

Criss-cross wires invade my brain,

I do not wish to go insane,

eyes that question, stare at me,

how I wish I could be free.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

The Dance (Baloo)

Ripped from my dying mother's arms

a journey to hell

stuffed in a sack with others

the dying

the smell

 

beaten

broken

six months of pain

face mutilated by rope and chain

 

all teeth broken

claws pulled out

roughened rope pulled through my snout

 

trained to 'dance'

walking on coals

bruises on skin

blisters on soles

 

then came salvation

my release

my escape

50,000 rupees

cut through the red tape

 

head keeps twitching

now free of the rope

eyes are faded

empty of hope

body needs mending

mind needs peace

abiding with people

who gained my release.

 

They call me Baloo.

 

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

 

 

 

NB. Baloo was taken from his mother while he was still suckling-poachers took him and sold him to a Kalandar nomad,who are outcasts in Indian society so they rely on dancing bears for a living- thanks to IAR(Int., Animal Rescue)the battle is growing to a close-re-education being the key word-obviously money plays a major role(50,000 rupees is £625 to you and me). This practice was banned in 1972 but people still break the law. The story of Baloo broke my heart and I cried my heart out- There are many Baloo's still to be rescued- I am praying for their salvation and the marvellous work this organisation does.

Nightingales

Amongst the nightingales I walk,

soft shards of moonlight patterns make,

whispers of feathered wings take flight,

reflected in a magic lake,

if only I had wings to fly,

these gentle spirits I would join,

such music would our hearts create,

more treasured here than any coin,

the message is their song devine,

to hear sweet music such as this,

I feel your tender hand touch mine,

amongst the nightingales we kiss.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Feathered Spirit

Silent guardian of the heavens, swoops upon unguarded prey,

watching eyes forever searching, through the mists of shadowed grey,

wings that span a thousand oceans, sihouetted on the shore,

searching, sifting through air currents, curved and primed as is each claw,

born to track and trace the food he needs to keep his chicks alive,

roaming endless miles of skyline born for speed he must survive,

eyes as keen and small as spyholes, circles high above the sea,

skimming waves this feathered spirit knows no rest, forever free.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved

Whale Song

Great gentle beast of oceans deep,

whose tortured soul cries through the foam,

rebounds off rocks beneath the waves,

a restless soul forever roam.

Sorrowful songs that melt the heart,

messages travel fathoms down,

calling to arms beloved ones,

within these voices I would drown.

 

 

© HILLY KENDRICK. All rights reserved