Poems I have written

Poems I have written

Reproduced from "Twitches" magazine,
(Magazine of the NSW fancy Rat and Mouse club, Australia)
June/July 1998 Vol 2, Issue 3

"You may remember in the last newsletter we mentioned the rats and mice in space on the shuttle. Unfortunately many of the animals died not only because they were euthanased for the experimental work but also because the young floated away from the nest and the mothers became stressed because of the unusual conditions and failed to feed their babies."

Here is a poem dedicated to these rats in space.

Lament of the Space Rat

High above the planet Earth
having given birth to five babies
here in a box in space
I heard voices who said
they wanted my babies brains for science
to solve human problems.
Subsequently, I didn't feed my young,
my maternal instinct washed away by tears.

It doesn't feel quite normal here.
I realise I've been dropped
into a plastic box in the past
however this strange unearthly feeling
is not one to which I am accustomed.
I must admit the G-force at take off
felt strange to us rats
as we blasted off into space.

I have contemplated why
a heavily pregnant rat such as I,
was chosen to fly and die in space.
What fate awaits the souls
of the rats who die here,
the gates of paradise or reincarnation?
I fear the approaching end to my life
in the coldness of this inhospitable place.

Perhaps the souls of those rats
and others who were sacrificed here today
will drift through space, lost forever,
hoping to feel the coolness of an Earth breeze
and longing for the gravity
of a planet that treated them so harshly.
To be borne a rat was not so bad.
It is my destiny that is so cruel.

The rat looking at me
through the perspex wall
of the adjoining box
yawns and nervously washes her face
We rats love to groom each other
and the little comfort of another rat's touch
is denied to us in our last hours,
as we hurtle through the void of space.

I hope that you humans
realise one day that
you should accept your mortality
Killing a little rat such as I
will not solve the problems
you face in your human world
Your very humanity is questioned
by those such as I, destined to die.

Marguerite Wegner, April 1998


Someone's lying dead on the road
in the left lane
of the three lane one way
Eastern side of the major highway.

A lifeless feathered brown body
head tucked unaturally
under the torso
so no-one can see the bloodied eyes.

Miraculously the small lifeless body
stays in tact despite the huge haulers and million cars
passing overhead in a tide
of rubber, steel and human disdain.

Why did this little one die on the road
another victim of roadkill
by the modern steel chariot of man?
An innocent victim flying too low, too slow.

A red car stops the traffic,
hazard lights blinking
and gentle hands lift the lifeless body
to the grassy area away from the road.

Not for this corpse the fate of many
to be run over a million times
by rubber tyres that recognise not
the small body that once was a graceful bird.


Marguerite Wegner (July 1999)


Death of a ladybug.

From the shadows under the tree,
death manifested itself as
a teenaged student
who left the pack deliberately
crushing the lady bug on the pavement
in a calculated effort
to intimidate the gentle natured girl
intent on moving the creature to safety.

Having done the deed,
the killer turned and walked away.
No words exchanged
and no-one noticed
the death of the ladybug
except the killer and the girl
and the small brightly coloured victim
in its death throes on the pavement.

What motivates this cruelty
this taking of a life
a bully in the making
a future mother or wife?
This cruel act left one person stunned
on this lovely warm Spring day
when a little insect died
in a deadly game of life-play.


Marguerite Wegner (July 1999)


The cry of the pet shop puppy.

Miserable howling
pierces the night
as the pet shop puppy
cries a lament
that nobody hears.

The woeful sound
of continuing cries
attracts a lone human
away from the nearby automated
all night teller

The puppy-cries cease
a relieved puppy
licking the perspex cage
unable to penetrate the clear wall
to lick the hand of man.

The tail, a stump
docked some weeks before
by some breeder
hoping to add value
wags despite disfigurement.

Sad puppy gazing out
into the abandoned carpark,
howls again
human companionship departed,
the solitary victim left to cry alone.

a trait of the dog
will ensure the prospective owner
will not fear redress
for cruelty inflicted.


Marguerite Wegner
(Copyrite August 1999)



To write a poem
passing thoughts
from mind and soul
through a window
of two eyes
onto paper
for all the world
to read.

Leaving a memory
of an idea
whose fleeting visit
awakens those
who read the words
to view a thought
from another's

A poem written
centuries ago
in language of old
stirs the spirit.
The poet's message
trapped in words
for an eternity

(c)Nov1997- Marguerite Wegner


A plea to Nature

I call on sun and wind and rain,
to put the Earth in order again.
I call on scientists to stop
genetically engineering the crops.

For those subjecting animals to hell,
to stop the slaughter houses as well,
and of people to multiply much less
to relieve the Earth of overpopulation stress.

For mankind to return the earth to a time
when peace and harmony reigned devine,
and greenhouse gasses were unknown,
as across the world mankind did roam.

If mother nature, you here my plea,
and return the bounties to the sea,
I will try to spread the word
that overfishing is absurd.

Please give us all a second chance,
and allow us your beauty to enhance
with human children born to know
to respect nature as they grow.


November 1997 Marguerite


Be a voice for the animals
- Their lives are often miserable and tortured
thanks to their exploitation by humans
by Marguerite

When you feel like giving up because of the millions of apathetic humans who
care not as the animals lie dying beating out the rythm of death with their

remember this . . .
Humans are a blight on the world,
Life for many animals is hell on Earth,
Life for many animals is a dream never to be fulfilled,
Life to many animals is a Gift we so casually take from them,
Life of a baby calf born on a cattle truck is death,
Love is a mother cow trying to hide her veal destined calf under the hay,
Love is Expressed in the eyes of a shot dying cat remembering her kittens,
Love for all animals is lacking in the isolated, cold lives of modern
Love is Free but sadly lacking in relation to what we feel towards animals today
Free is Fair but not when you are a dingo dying from strychnine basted traps
Free is Right but not while humans rule the Earth and repress the Animals
Free is Cool but unavailable to pigs who gaze from the truck bound for slaughter
Free is Good for those lucky enough to experience it
Good is God but God turns his back on the murdered,tortured and oppressed
God is Good but he has left the world in the hands of those who will destroy it
Good Is Cool but sadly lacking in many humans who turn a blind eye to cruelty
Cool is Life but not if you are borne a sheep destined for ritual slaughter
Life is the magical, eternal, free, grand, changing gift of Love to some. .
.and Life is short, cruel and sad for others

Remember this and shed a tear for the happless creatures who suffer so at
our human hands.


The story of Teddy Bear the lop rabbit.

Teddy Bear the lop rabbit,
Was Susan's dearest friend,
He was a survivor of Myxomatosis,
Which might have caused his end.

He used to win at shows,
His bold and cheeky manner,
Captivated those who knew him,
Under the "Southern Districts" banner.

The Aussie farmers decided,
To wipe out rabbits complete,
The scientists had a deadly virus,
That they thought was rather neat.

They'd imported RHD to play with,
And they thought they had it made,
So they field tested RHD on an island,
Across to which they'd wade.

The virus jumped from the island,
And over the mainland spread,
The RHD program rejoiced,
As they saw that rabbits lay dead.

Susan had Teddy Bear vaccinated,
Against the deadly RHD,
She was taking no chances,
That he'd suffer that malody.

For RHD takes no prisoners,
Rabbits haemorrhage and die,
And for her darling Teddy,
It was too soon to say good-bye.

The vet gave Teddy a needle,
To save him from RHD,
But instead Teddy started to waste,
He lost weight rapidly

Eventually Teddy could not stand up,
His head drooped to his chest,
The reaction to RHD vaccine,
Had broken one of the best.

Susan, the vet and Teddy fought hard,
And Teddy started to brighten,
Then one day Susan had to go out,
And when she returned she was frightened.

For Teddy was in obvious pain,
And no open vet could she find,
Its thought that lesions went to his brain,
And Teddy's death was far from kind.

Writhing in pain and grinding his teeth,
For rabbits cannot speak,
His final moments spent in pain,
Poor Teddy wasted and weak.

We'll remember you fondly Teddy Bear,
You'll not be forgotten by those who care,
And the scientists we will curse to hell,
And pray they catch RHD as well.

The End.

Rites of Passage

by Marguerite Wegner (22/11/1999)

On a hot bright sunny day,
tangled grey bodies,
recently shorn,
faces peering out,
resigned hopelessness
expressions of suffering
a leg protruding perilously
as the trapped sheep tries to
withdraw its leg away from
the extremities of the
live transport truck,
praise be to Allah.

Hours on the red-dust
coated transport truck
seem like days as the
sheep dogs savagely bark
waiting to unload
the sheep at the dock
where a monsterous
multi-tiered cargo ship
waits ominously
destined for the Middle East
and death
Allah be praised.

Driver says "it'll be alright when we get there"
when notified of the protruding leg
when the truck comes to rest
at the traffic lights
still another half hour of
travel ahead to the docks.
On the fourth level up
a sheep looks down over all
of us and then withraws its
head as if not wanting
to comprehend its own position,
Allah is great.

The downers will be killed
at the dock when it is obvious
that they will not rise up again
perhaps the sheep dogs
will dine well tonight.
Many lives lost on an unatural
journey accross the sea
where the final end
will be an often blunt blade,
searing pain and a slow bleed to
death's door
Allah be merciful.



The Death of a Deer.

The air smelt sweet,
The forest quiet,
Tall trees reaching forever,
Suns rays filtering though,
The dense forest canopy.

My young fawn at my side,
I watched for danger,
Listened for noises,
Of intrusion,
Of strangers.
My forest, My home.

Sweet tasting water,
From the stream nearby,
Life was contentment,
With my fawn at my side.
Suddenly alert,I sense a presence,
Not known before.
Startled,I run,Leaving my fawn in safety,
By the sweet tasting stream.

Sudden, searing pain,
A stake though my body,
The agony of slaughter awaits.
I lie on the forest floor,
The forest birds,
Suddenly silent.

I see the suns rays,
Playing on some leaves,
Near my head.
Life fades,
And my eyes glaze over.

The bow hunter approaches,
"Downed her with my first shot" He utters,
And I feel the life force,
Leave my body.
My soul drifts past my fawn,
On the wind,
One last caress,
Of his velvety nose.

Good luck my sweet,
My love is with you.
At least you have a chance,
If you stay here,Quietly.
Be brave for your mother,
Whose life was taken,
At a bowhunter's whim.

The End.


Ratty at tea time.

Little beady eyes of black,
gazing down at me,
searching for a ratty snack,
Ratty sees the biscuit with my tea.

That look that says "What about me"?
is too much to bare,
so with my little ratty friend,
my biscuit I do share.

Scampering up onto the perch,
biscuit clasped so tight,
the little ratty I adore,
is such a lovely sight.
Crunching up the ratty feast,
Ratty looks very satisfied,
tonight there'll be leftover pizza,
I'll be sure to put some aside.

For a pizza snack is a ratty dream
although some would despair,
that ratty was being spoiled
Ratty and I don't care.
For Ratty is my little friend,
who always seems to know
how to cheer up his human pal,
when she is feeling low.

For those who share their lives
with ratties large and small
each day is very different
with lessons for us all.
So enjoy those ratty days,
playing with your ratty mate,
and don't feel too guilty
if ratty shares the food upon your plate.

For a pleasant ratty diet
includes pleasures shared by two
from a little piece of biscuit
to a tiny portion of stew.
When ratty curls up to sleep
ratty probably dreams of you
but don't be too suprised
if ratty dreams of tasty treats too!


The first Spring day 1999.

A riot of colour
fills the horizon
Geraldton wax in bloom
complimented by yellow wattles
replace the drab
winter mantle of wet green.

The black Persian cat
is sneezing again,
the Spring pollens
irrititating her sensitive nose
much as they have
irritated mine.

Galahs perilously swoop
amidst the traffic
to gain access
to the flowering grasses
growing too close
to the road's edge.

The Spring sun's rays shed light
on winter cobwebs,
a salute to the industrious
spiders who have grown
fat on small night insects
despite the season of cold.

Welcome Spring!
Though I may prefer
the cool Winter temperatures
nothing I say or do
will stop the relentless
march of the seasons.

Later this year,
when mid-Summer heat
drives people indoors
to sit cooled by air-conditioners
Autumn and Winter
will seem a lifetime away.

Life's flow quickens
with the coming of another season.
Courting birds noisily prepare to nest
while hibernating snakes sense
the warming of the Earth
sleepily awakening to Winter's departure.


(1st September 1999)

The woman I am.

I am glad I am a woman,
who stands so straight and tall,
I don't want to be Rhett's Scarlett,
because life's purpose would be small.

I am glad that I knew love,
Love added dimension to my soul
Nowdays I move onward
With new and better goals.

Love portrayed in books and novels
Is far removed from real life
From passion and from conflict,
From commitment and from strife.

Growing wiser and finding purpose
That does not focus just on him,
Is a much happier life path
Than dancing to man's whim.

I am not lonely or abandoned,
Without a male by my side,
I interact with all folks,
With self-respect and pride.

For all those who would ponder,
And dwell on thoughts unseen,
Accept life's purpose as it unfolds,
And not what could have been.


Everything is wrong.

By Marguerite Wegner (30/10/2000)

The Earth is dying; no-one seems to care
Animals are beaten; crying in despair
Humans are focusing on wealth and self glory
They cannot see they're part of another story;
A story which is unfolding day by day
The death of creation is on its way.

What can we do, you and me?
When the world will not hear our plea,
Human populations grow, plunder and kill,
And try to cure diseases with poison and pill
Bill Gates has his billions and the world seems to smile
Yet in terms of evolution we're only here for a while

From the time we evolved we altered God's scheme
We denuded the forests and dirtied the streams
We have harnessed the atom and used it to kill
And pollute the planet as a false God will
Like Adam and Eve, we've lost our way
And now we're all destined for judgement day.

Mother Nature weeps tears of blood
As plundered forests become seas of mud
And we vanquish her to another place
Where we never have to see her face
And as we deny that our world is dying
Mother Nature sits abandoned, quietly crying.



Sea soul

I love the sea
The beautiful sea
its crashing waves
so wild and free.

The endless horizon
the salty breeze
the cries of seagulls
puts me at ease.

When I am gone
and my soul roams free
scatter my dust
on the beautiful sea.

Then I will be one
with the oceans that roar
between the continents
from shore to shore.



Click here to return to poetry main page