Dorothy Brooke’s
My grannie
She possessed a heart of gold
She could feel for the horses
On empathy was sold
She loved and cared for animals
She worried for them, she
So compassionately beautiful
She exposed the cruelty
This day is her birthday
What an amazing soul
All animal lovers love her
Sent from my iPad
On 1 Jun 2026, at 12:34 pm, Richard Searight
What a rotten weirdo raping a female cow
Stuffing her arm to do the harm
Most people would say how
Could girls ever do such things
For the dairy boss
And still smile at the camera
I am at a loss
To understand the mentality
Of everyone involved
Drinking kidnapped babies milk
Now the mystery is solved
Cruelty torture and theft
And done by a feminine worker
On the instructions of a dairy farmer
Sows are raped
By horny bores
Locked in crates
Down on all fours
No love just ramparts
Female sadly
Why are they treated so badly 🐖
Ignorance is bliss
For those
Guards who wear them
I suppose
A mother bear is slaughtered she
Killed for her fur indecently
Canada why do this trade
Dairies are seats of great violence
And pain
Where mothers are raped
Undergoing such pain
They carry their babies
Secured in a place
Covered in excrement
On their little face
Taken away
So that humanity
can then buy its milk
Such depravity
Bovine nutrition
That is the mission
Copious pus
An issue for all
Stop eating dairy chocolate, ice cream anything with dairy is absolute cruelty
Australia witnesses injustice here
A rape lasting six hours
Imagine the fear
They destroyed her
Such vehemence
It’s very clear
In the throes of such torture
This tyrannical four
Engulfed her in sex
An act of such gore
Of evil personified
For four months poor soul
She lay in a coma
Her life over
A war
in her soul
And who were they
And how long will they spend in prison at tge publics expense
They should be put to death
Without favour
Born without sweat glands
Which is then why
pigs
Need to stay cool
Under the sky
All grouped together
Farrowed in crates
Their urge to remain clean
Against reprobates
Farmers who care
Nothing
Animals who
Made to stand where they dump
This story is true
The Welsh Poppy
Good and yellow,
Symbolises some success
Prosperity and optimism
A land that’s kind of mellow
Shingle banks
Good drainage
Loves the sun that shines
Ground shading
Good weed clearing
A living mulch are signs
That beautify
Up yellow
blossoms
Of the prolific kind
Papery thin and winsome
They make a lovely gift to find
Keep away from Hosta’s
Or Sunflowers if you can
Any moisture loving plants
That is the best plan
Poppies represent the fae
Dancing every break of day
Butterflies and Bees exclaim
And their feel for life is much the same.
It’s all about freshness
And so the Japanese
Keep me alive
Choking yes one big tease
Gasping for air
The huge pangs of pain
So you can eat fresh
Again and again
By Fredrick Fish
Con Cáo Được Cứu Thoát… Và Điều Nó Làm Hôm Sau Khiến Tất Cả Sững Sờ youtube.com/shorts/gj9xtT3… via @YouTube
Most foxes know
That humans show
Malice to their breed
And being knotted up
Inside his garden
It could lead
To injury
But some humans
Are fateful to the cause
To free the fox from bondage
When the suffering of others
Becomes the pleasure for the few
These grooming gangs that operate
It is my honest view
Arrogance and ignorance
On the vilest scale
Carried out on children
And on infants doth derail
All argument of sanity
For innocence appears
A cursor in their dark warped minds
And the horror and the fears
Collectively obsessive
Totally indisposed
Angst ridden and tormenting.
Crucially they have nosed
Down into a quagmire
Of their own making
Far below
Their dishing out the agony
And the victims undergo
Terror and depravity
A long time malady
Collective demonstrations
Of what is intolerably
Worse than
words can muster
On babies as we hear
Grooming pregnant mothers
To maltreat what was their dear
Offspring it is hard to fathom
The evil path they choose
Ugliness personified
To continually abuse
All these men, these monsters
Utterly depraved
Really should be put to death
Nothing about them shoukd be saved
Wickedness malignancy,
Callous through and through
Collectively they should be hanged
On a hanging tree my view
Such malevolent intentions
Malignant through and through
Blackguards of the lowest order
Everything they do
Homicidal hatchet men
Unpardonable now they
Require a death sentence
For their iniquitous display.
A divine right
As a hunter to be
Killing the elephant
Yes painfully
Not for any reason
Only that he, the hunter
Can kill and
Most certainly
For me trophy hunters
Need to be
Educated about life
And never to be
Given their freedom
Not any more
And that killing Wild life is precious
For sure
Just To win some trophy
Jail time at least
Up to ten years
For the death of each beast
If that doesn’t stop them
Painfully they
Have to be shot
At the end of the day.
At first level
Fed the birds today
Sunflower hearts they love
Nibbling fastidiously
Fallen from above
Teasels buds and foodie hits
The early voters they
Find the good that I have left
Earlier in the day
All of them were twittering
Joyous hearts aloud
Fluttering and muttering
It’s a glorious sound
Clearly with discernment
They scurry here and there
Purists and idealists
All very much aware.
Meat eating those of you who do
Who originate from far away
Killing and dismembering a holy flock
Making beautiful animals pay
With their lives
Everyday
Torturing them
Can’t you see
The agony
For them was real
And for what
And for why
Did they really have to die
In absolute agony
Thanks to you
In a craven cellar
A vile gestation crate
Farrowing disasters
Sadly are of late
Squalid spaces smelling
Of excrement and pee
And I will die an Angel
And shits will then eat me
His thoughts about the pigs he keeps
This ignorant farmer who
Imprisons them all from day one
And he thinks he is true
They do no have sweat glands
So he keeps them in the heat
Throws mud at them and expletives
He surely is a chest
Pigs are glorious animals
It’s clearly a therapy
That we can see
With his Canon he captures
Art forms that be
Hiding in plain sight
Fastidious sense
Awarding and sharing
New found confidence
A stage set observing
A great panoply
The Snowdonia sky’s she
That captures the eye
The moon’s strong embrace
On our senses we see
An intriguing picture
His photography
He wanders alone
With his eye on the sky
At the hoot of an owl
That close by might fly
A fox might have shuffled
Rodents might spy
A warrior gently
Sharing a sigh
For night forms
And cloudscapes
And genuine beauty
Of wonder where thunder
He sees as his duty
To record the heavens
The hamlet below
Lit up with the lights
A perspective on show
A study of grasses
And edibles he
Bathing good taste
A refined delicacy
Sort of eye candy
To wanderers who
See the height of the heavens
Come back into view
Euphuistic and precious
The pictures we see
Kind of theatrical and naturally
Pictures of forests and mountaintops where
As a sage with a lens
He doth bountifully share
A wisdom of honour
His photography
Reaching nights of expression
Through his artistry
The great elementals
He captures with ease
The forests below
And The wonder of trees
Refined for the city eye
His artistry
Very discerning
Such learning can be
A delicate hand
As great lenses that spy
With painstaking comment
We see the true sky
For me it’s to witness
The wonder he sees
And it’s with admiration
That surely does please
An old man who once
Took him long long ago
Into the forest to begin
This new show
Last night I saw real lunar activity
Craters and shading
And true artistry
Wonder was working
Luca was there
His attention to detail
Wanting to share
To those of us interested
In his subtlety
The mystique and the magic
Set out for me
I live near the forest
As ancient as hell
Where the mosses and lichens
Summarily spell
Ancientnessness none of of the modern day stuff
In the great web of life
Where so much is enough
Glyphosate,
toxins
shooters lead shots
Pumped into sad birds
these rich toady snots
With money to burn
could use tungsten to fire
But prefer to use lead
which is ofcourse dire
Get into the ancientness
Misted and old
Lichens bursting upwards
Seemingly like gold
Dust accumulated from aged specks of care
Cortisol rising inflammation aware
The Japanese are into it
They know the ancient ways
They drink their ceremonials
And then their old brain plays
Evidential theories
Of old forests trailing deep
Vibrations of the peace on earth
The great ancestral sweep
Of time, cuts inflammation
Draws waxy shadows through
I believe the forest
Will do great things for you.
Inspired by a instagram post from Claudie Ferri
may 31/5
Competing,
imagine that
Singing away
An audience listening
This is your day
The soul in you cries
The heartbeat you hear
Your hands clenched and warming
And there’s a tear
Rolling down your cheek
You are moved by it all
Watching the audience
Hearing the fall
Of the traffic the wind
The chatter, it’s there
Watching them smile
Yes being aware
Years ago
Up in London
Covent Garden
I stood
Singing those sweet love songs
Just cos I could
My friend her guitar
A soprano was she
We sang for our supper
For a nice pot of tea
Jasmine or sencha
Or genmaicha
Hitting the high notes
Travelling far
We made sixty old pounds
Some clapped,
some jeered
Opera
on the placement
Yea it seemed weird
So close to the real stars
And us on the street
Like mice in a way
Trying hard to compete
It’s an unchained melody
Cluttering streets
Loads of passers by
Unaware of the beats
The simple guitar
The lilt of the voice
Some stand and swoon
Accepting the choice
Others a great sea
Of inveterate souls
Shopping not stopping
With other goals
There’s those who love music
And those who can’t hear
Who have, come out shopping
And, they stay clear
Shopping bags stuffed
Chatting away
This is what busking is
Every day.
It’s where we prove our worth
Singing away
Our ring of softness
Hearing you play
Others just chatter
As they stroll by
They think your a nuisance
That glint in your eye
They can never see
No problem I say
Sing out those melodies everyday
Just write those poems
Post them and share
Very few watching
Very few care
You are out on the ether
Taking your sound
Breaching the clutter
Covering ground
Infamous shadows
Chase here and there
As darkness closes in
The light more aware
You are still singing
It breaks through the night
Busking alone there
And it just feels right.
From our window
We see them the high peaks away
Wildness apparent
Almost every day
Close to the wild woods
Where wild sounds exist
The stoat and the fox
Faces lost in the mist
They may peer at your window
Under the moon
That swims in the heavens
As a Stevie Nicks tune
Plays on the tellie
Stevie is here
Beaming into your living room
Top hat, it’s clear
A wonderful closeup
Better than being
With her she
Sings in your house
Rhythmic shadows embrace
Ear drops of silver and soul
This is Awelfa close to the mountains
With the nights and the lights in control.
Flowers and there are many
In gardens everywhere
But a genuine quality
To actually be aware
Marigolds reduce nematodes
Often in the soil
And poppies suppress weed growth
Saving us the toil
Wallflowers good with orchard plants
Lupins aid the Rose
A good nitrogen fixer
More then just to suppose.
The arrogance of ignorant man
Gardeners of sort
Who just deem to imagine
How growing things needs thought
Groups of various edibles
Some operating well
With companion planting
Not something people sell
Asparagus loves Parsley
And basil seems to be
Helpful but for certain
Onions dreadfully
And of course potatoes
Are aliens in fact
Planted with asparagus
Detrimentally react
like most human beings
Some we don’t get along
It’s the same of course
Amongst the flowers
Differences belong
Growing them together
Detrimentally
Can punish us for our arrogance
Interestingly
Take Beans
That some call pulses
Apparently love Beets
Borage, carrots cauliflower
And cabbage somehow greets
Cucumbers and tomatoes
But never should one grow
Chives fennel or garlic
So Now we are in the know
Rue and sage are no no’s
With cucumbers it seems.
Parsnips and potatoes
For celery bad dreams
All round it seems
Imagine it
Broad beans hate fennel so
Dill Rosemary and radish
Carrots will forclose
On having them around about
Just shows you other plants
Have the power to upset
And it’s not all down to chance
It comes on all levels
Alpine inclines
Fruit trees and ferns
So many signs
Of deep thoughts
And caring
Selections we see
Wild edibles bordering
Attract the Bee
No immaculate borders
Nor flowers in straight rows
All sorts of orders
Really that pose
Magical colours
Ancient type leaves
Natures my gardener
Along with tall trees
A wood at the back
Hazels we see
Holly and hawthorn
Give shade naturally
Dry stone steps
Boldly set perfectly
Move to high levels
And look beautifully
Pebbles and slate pieces
Form a bold path
Attracting the sun
Whose rays do bath
The higher levels
In sunshine and soul
With bunches of flowers
Kind of out of control
A sloworm or two
Newts in our tank
Butterflies hawk moths
Cash in the bank
All sorts of birds
Who share their song
Who drink from our gutters
Where they do belong
Starving them of oxygen
Making them appear
To be dragged out of the ocean
By great netting of fear
Icing them and watching them
Scream for all their worth
Soaking them in blocks of ice
Removing them from their earth
Into suffocation mode
Air bladders to the fore
Fishing isn’t wishing
No not anymore
A Bonnie baby comes into
Our wonderful world
Both good and true
To Laura and Dewi
A child is born
To accompany Hari
This May Day morn
No happier family
Dolgellau’s gift
Where mountains smoulder
And songbirds lift
The psyche daily
Under a blue sky
A brand new neighbour
Bye and bye
A celebration
Of all things well
Such jubilation
Again has fell
On this community
wonderment
Their prodigy
Was heaven sent
The miracle of life and soul
Felicitation of the role
Euphoria heartfelt of course
Count one’s blessings
A wondrous source
Seventh heaven
And, cloud nine
Laura and Dewi
Feel divine
An understanding
And rapport
And A happy family
For evermore
The bushes just outside my house
A conglommerate of souls
The green encompassing offering
Therein housing trolls
All undulating in the breeze
Where all manner of song birds hide
Staring out to the mountains
On the Western side
Rocking green stems towering
In glorious gusts of spray
Where buttercups of golden lustre
At their roots display
They decorate the constant trail
That meandering
it be
Amongst a wealth of edibles
That i gather earnestly
Hear the Blackbirds 🐦⬛
chorus
A Chaffinch well on song
The Dunnock and the Robin
Shared their magic song
Of Snowdonias winged heraldics
All birds of acclaim
Whose whistling crescendos
Are coaxing us by name
What is an encumbent species
A structured sprawling mass
Dangling so forcefully
Exceedingly its crass
To hunker under apple trees
Among the ferny dark
Tapestries of tippet
Suspended makes it mark
Morning Glory growing
Trumpet flowers can grow
white and Pink and Violet
Invasive wild proclaim
A genuine destroyer
The never takes the blame
Hawk Moths reside intently
They just love the flower
Teased out by the nectar
A kind of glorious shower
Other insects love it
And Dewi, yesterday
Pulled armful’s of its stalky power
Real and significantly
Tenacious by cohesion
Intangible it be
Sinewy and woody
So stubborn seemingly
Every rooted speciment
It needs pulling free
It truly holds a mounting sprout
A permanence that be
Forever draining the lifeblood
From other species who
Suffer being molested
Because that is what they do.
Fraternisation such intimacy
Coming to terms
With slow worms who be
In fact legless lizards
Eye lids and all
Ear holes for hearing
Affabilities call
No eggs about them
Live young they birth
Social activities
That is their worth
Dry stone wall huggers
Gregarious souls
Amazing fangs
Eating slugs snails
Controls
With their outgoing habits
Making overtures they
Preferably leave them
Alone
And they play
In the forest clutter
Most of the day
Mating in Spring
In what is an array
Of spectacular love feats
Bonds of friendship in play.
Rex Tyler is a Poet, Campaigner, former owner of an organic shop of 30 years, and Public Speaker living in Berkhamsted, UK.
