Animal Poetry

Through the growing crack in the delicate shell
A newborn’s beak is seen
Then a damp and fragile body
Golden feathers to groom and preen
A tiny little blue-eyed girl
One of 50,000 others
All born without a nest of straw
All chirping for their mothers.

As days go by her body swells
Her legs begin to ache
The weight is so unbearable
That sometimes legs will break
She watches as others perish
On the feces covered ground
Not capable of reaching food
They starve without a sound.

After 42 short days of life
Still a baby at that age
She’s violently yanked up by her feet
And thrown into a cage
Packed so tightly she cannot move
With miles of road ahead
Will she survive this brutal transport
Or be one of the many dead?

At her final destination
When the highway finally ends
She hears the terrified screams of family
The shrieks of frightened friends
With a pounding heart she sits and waits
She has no other choice
She can’t tell them that her foot is stuck
She doesn’t have a voice.

When this little girl with sad blue eyes
Is finally ripped away
From the crate that has become her hell
Her little foot will stay
Severed from her body
No one hears her cry in pain
But I’m not alone in crying now
For this little girl called “Jane.”

_______________________

Heather Leughmyer is a vegan activist who uses poetry as a means to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. She shares a home in the country with her husband, daughter, two cats, two dogs, and several rescued rats.

Her desperate cries could brand a soul
With agonizing sorrow
When the newborn son she had today
Is stolen from her tomorrow
This broken heart won’t be her last
She’ll never be a mother
While misery seeps into milk
That’s swallowed by another.

The frantic way he kicks and fights
And tries to cling to life
While men in blood-soaked aprons
Coldly end it with a knife
How indifferently they slice and dice
What a horrifying fate
When muscle soaks up fear and pain
Ending up on someone’s plate.

Despair has overcome her mind
As she takes each labored breath
Feces coat the rusty bars
Inside she waits for death
For her the torment just won’t end
Though many more have died
Each egg absorbs depression
To be broken, flipped and fried.

When suffering is shrink-wrapped
It betrays so many lives
Few realize that they make a choice
With their spoons, their forks, and knives
When cruelty comes in a carton
And we can package pain
We must see past exteriors
We have so much to gain.

_______________________

Heather Leughmyer is a vegan activist who uses poetry as a means to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. She shares a home in the country with her husband, daughter, two cats, two dogs, and several rescued rats.

Number 968 was born in July
Number 892 is nervous and shy

“Free to good home” was 843
Number 627 can no longer see

Number 585 scratches both ears
Number 417 has circled for years

Numbers 389 through 397
Were no longer needed
Now they’re in heaven

Always tucking her tail
That’s 213
Pain relief for 200
Remains to be seen

172 has lost so much weight
And tomorrow it’s over
For 148

For 121 through 135
Tomorrow the test
That none will survive

Numbers 1 through 100
Have all been through hell
Behind each number now
Remains an empty cell

If consumers stopped the funding
It could just change a fate
It could just make a difference
For 9 hundred 68.

_______________________

Heather Leughmyer is a vegan activist who uses poetry as a means to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. She shares a home in the country with her husband, daughter, two cats, two dogs, and several rescued rats.