Wild And Free

Wild And Free

Intelligent eyes and serious faces
Trapped in inappropriate places
Caged by humans, treated like toys
Taking their freedom, killing their joy
Breaking their spirit, day by day
Keeping them captive is not the way
These creatures need to run free and wild
Not trapped and treated like a substitute child
No space to run, to climb, to play
Loneliness growing by the day
Don’t take them prisoner, let them be
Happy, healthy, wild and free

©Brenda Stephens 2014 

Yesterday we visited the Monkey Sanctuary at Looe. I can’t recommend this place highly enough. The monkeys are adorable but as you are walking around, there’s a sadness that these places have to exist in the first place. These are wild animals that have been rescued from the pet trade and this is a complete lack of respect for the beautiful, intelligent beings that they are. I’m glad we went. I learned an awful lot from our visit. In one of the displays there is a cage which was a replica of one that a monkey had been rescued from and it’s about the size of my kitchen cupboard. This is utterly horrifying. I wrote the few lines above this morning. These beautiful animals deserve their freedom and the sanctuary is a wonderful place with wonderful people there to give them a far better life. Click here to follow on Twitter.

100 Years…

A sea of poppies, crimson red
In memory of our heroic dead
Each one a name we can’t forget
We are forever in their debt
Now their bones lie in peace
Forever soldiers but now at ease
The ultimate sacrifice that they made
In their memory poppies are laid
One hundred years have gone by
But we today must remember why
Lives were lost, worlds torn apart
Their memory must live on in our hearts

Remember Me…

Remember me when you walk in the trees
When the flowers are graced by honey bees
When the waves rush to the shore
My love is there, forevermore
When the moon is shining down
Think of the times I was around
Take comfort in the stars that shine
Remember me and the good times
As you climb sleepily into bed
And dreams begin to fill your head
Think of me as you fall asleep
Those memories are yours to keep
When you wake and the birds are singing
Imagine it’s my love they’re bringing
Live with the hope it’s not forever
One day we will be back together

For John 💙 I miss you xxx

©Brenda Stephens 2014

Where Death Lives

A row of tiny houses
A row of open doors
No one living anywhere
Just bones upon the floor
Bones that have lain there
For many lonely years
In a place where death lives
And plays upon your fears
An abandoned little chapel
Another open door
There’s no sense in praying
For the bones upon the floor
Sadness lingers in the air
Loneliness seeps into your bones
This island is a haunted place
That’s better left alone

Wicked Game

We walked for miles
Me and you
We had a bond
Pure and true
We laughed together
About the daftest things
We spoke for hours
About what life brings
You were there
When others didn’t bother
You were honestly
Like a mother
I miss you lots
Every single day
There’s lots of things
I’d like to say
I miss the laughter
I miss your voice
This bitterness
Is not my choice
It’s just another
Wicked game
That we are pawns in
And not to blame

I Can’t…

I can’t say hello to you
I can’t reach out my hand
I can’t find words for how I feel
Because I just can’t understand
I can’t seem to make things better
I can’t make it go away
I can’t wait until it’s ok
It can’t stay forever this way
I can’t bear the silence
I can’t bear that we’re apart
I can’t understand her motives
Or why she’d break my heart
But one day I will see you
One day the pain will ease
But until that day comes
Don’t forget me, please…x


Pick up a piece of paper
An envelope and pen
Write a few lines of lovely words
And send it to a friend
Tell them little details
Tell them happy things
Tell them the things that make your world
And the little joys life brings
A letter is a special gift
Handwritten with love and care
Take the time to send one
It’s a special thing to share

Those Beachy Days

Tiny footprints on the sand
Lots of seashells in her hands
She runs down towards the waves
Past the rock pools and the caves
The beach is where she loves to play
In winter winds or summer days
In her pockets her seashell treasure
The little joys that bring her pleasure

Photo ©Brenda Stephens
Par Sands Beach, Cornwall, UK.