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May 16, 2024



When the butterflies came

I remembered your name.

When the butterflies came

We ran up the lane.

When the butterflies came

Life was so insane.

When the butterflies came.

When the butterflies came.


When the butterflies went

I remembered your scent.

When the butterflies went

I knew what life meant.

When the butterflies went

Love was all but spent.

When the butterflies went.

When the butterflies went.


by Harriet Blackbury.



Post tags:

March 29, 2023



She watches every movement

of my hand.

Always alert.

Always in command.


I try to assure her

that my intentions are true.

But she has scars from her past –

a past I never knew.


It is going to take time,

but I’m up for the task.

though some days it feels like

an impossible ask.


Just when I think we are

moving on a bit,

quite out of the nowhere

appears another hissy fit.


Perhaps it’s something horrific,

lodged in her brain,

that returns in a cycle,

again and again.


When the moment is over

she comes and paws my hand.

I keep it quite still,

unsure of what she has planned.


She knows when she’s hurt me,

and is so full of sorrow.

I think she could like me,

if more time we could borrow.


So I avoided eye contact,

by keeping out of her way.

Fingers crossed this new tactic

is beginning to pay.


She has started me-owing

to let me know she is near.

She is watching me intensely.

I pretend not to hear.


She twists herself through my legs,

preventing my stride.

almost tripping me up,

to be ignored – she can’t abide.


She’s now been fed and watered,

and due her next five hour nap.

I don’t think in her lifetime,

she will ever jump on my lap.


But she is coming round slowly,

with a more confident view.

And now seems ready to move on,

from the heartache, she once knew.



Post tags:

March 15, 2021



and buttercups in the meadow knew,

that you need me and I need you.


and honey bees, who saw us coming,

filled with joy and started humming.


and swans with cygnets formed a flotilla,

when we arrived to give them dinner.


and hungry gulls with a deafening sound,

dive bombed the party, and came to ground.


and canadian geese picked up the scraps,

along with ducks – such cheeky chaps.


and pigeons too, from far and wide,

gathered by the waterside.


and all too soon, the food was gone,

and the late – comers, just looked on.


‘that’s it kids, no more today’,

I say, with sadness, turning away.


‘next time, I promise to bring more’,

with deep sincerity, I implore.


as buttercups in the meadow view,

us coming back, with hands held true.


and honey bees who saw us coming,

no longer there – no sound of humming.


written by Harriet Blackbury


Post tags:

December 14, 2019




There’s nothing wrong with loving an animal

and having someone on our side

who will walk us into eternity

day by day – stride by stride.


A truer friend than an animal

we really would struggle to find –

a pal who will keep all our secrets

and on our faults, turn an eye, that is blind.


There’s nothing wrong with loving an animal –

‘better than most humans’, some people say.

Their loyalty and trust paramount,

but not just a present for Christmas Day.



Post tags:

July 24, 2019


I know a girl called Clementine Clements –

A classier lass you have yet to meet.

She thinks that she is sensational,

from her head, right down to her feet.


I am a friend of Clementine Clements.

We have a rapport, that is clear to see.

When her world is filled with displeasure.

She knows she can depend on me.


The other day I saw Clementine Clements,

and knew right away she was full of woe.

Her people had bought her a harness –

the horror of which, was on show.


The indignity she felt was so visible.

The thing looked hideous to the eye!

Her vanity had been challenged.

She knew I agreed – I wanted to cry.


She jumped onto my knee, and said ‘Save me.’

‘I feel such a fool, and have lost all my charm.’

‘How can I strut my stuff in this straight jacket?’

‘I look like I’ve come from a funny farm!’


She told me the harness has got a handle,

so her people can carry her – like a suitcase.

I could tell that she felt suicidal,

just by the sad look on her face.


How to help my pal, Clementine Clements,

had me scratching my head to think.

But I had to come up with something,

as the sight of the harness, made her heart sink.


How can I now march with Clementine Clements,

as we’d both look like total prats,

pounding the streets like gangsters.

All that was missing, would be our baseball hats!


My plan is to buy her a collar.

The best collar there has ever been!

One that will compliment her odd coloured ears,

and have her looking  just like the Queen.


For my dear friend  Clementine Clements.

Written by Harriet Blackbury


Post tags:

August 17, 2018


They both arrived on cue,

each one wagging their tail –

though that’s not strictly true,

for they’d come by British Rail,


as no Virgin trains on the platform

to be mounted for the ride,

they had taken the escalator

to the other side.


and waited for an ‘Inter City’

recommended by their cat,

who had now become a home-bird,

because of this and that,


and who’s travelling days were over

and who wisely took the view,

to step aside and let the youngsters

do  what youngster do !


The next train at the platform

they decided wouldn’t do,

as their cat had strictly told them

that all journeys end at Crewe.


So with tails between their legs –

though that’s not strictly true,

they went down another escalator,

wondering what to do.


No Porter on this platform,

though one across the track,

who just completely ‘blanked’ them,

as he loaded a mail sack,


so with frustration building,

they sat down for a while,

and decided to ring their cat,

who, of course, was on speed-dial.


But their cat by now had settled,

and was in the land of nod,

so back up the steps they trundled,

and said  ‘ain’t life a sod ?’


But just then, to the rescue,

came magically into view –

the delayed train they had wanted,

and their excitement grew,


and then with both tails wagging –

if only that was true!

they took their waiting seats

and then the whistle blew.


Post tags:

August 3, 2018



and cuckoos came

to other nests,

to lay their eggs –

who would have guessed?


a friendly offer

just a joke,

an empty shell

that held no yolk.


and sparrows small

in all innocence,

who, slow to focus

on common sense.


were soon put right

from a nearby tree,

when a shrewd woodpecker 

tapped out their plan B.


and cuckoos’ flew

as cuckoos’ do,

without a single 




Post tags:

July 29, 2018


… and bliss stopped by

to briefly say ‘Hi’,

followed by a second

white butterfly.

They swished together

as the dogs jumped high,

unable to catch them

as they touched the sky.


…and bliss stooped by

in the blink of an eye,

then left forever

as they breathed a sigh.

They swished together

and let out a cry –

Never to be forgotten

was their last goodbye.


Post tags:

July 25, 2017



I am rescued

to a life of solitude;

I am king

of all I survey.

The loneliness

is immeasurable,

but I cope

living day to day.


I am rescued

from a cruel start to life,

where I was

chained up all day.

My bed was

my own faeces –

No other place

for me to lay.


I am rescued

by a kindly soul,

who gives me

food and water, it’s true.

But walks

are to a minimum,

for normal functions

that I must do.


I am rescued

to a far better place,

away from the

hellhole I knew.

And for that

I’m truly grateful,

but loneliness

still makes me blue.


I am rescued

but still imprisoned,

and boredom

has sent me insane.

After a three minute

walk each morning,

back indoors

is where I remain.


I am rescued

but still isolated,


and un-socialised.

I exist in a world

of make-believe.

My own thoughts

will be my demise.


I am rescued

to routine predictable.

Everyday at noon

I hear the door-key,

And along the road

we saunter,

for my usual

three minute wee.


I am rescued

but live in a bubble.

How much sleep

does one dog need?

Afternoons drag on


until five o clock

when I’m back on my lead.


I am rescued

but going off my mind.

For many years it’s

been this way.

These three minute

walks to freedom –

my lifestyle twice,

every single day.


I am rescued

to evenings of madness.

No lovely long

walks in the park.

Instead, my owner

sits endlessly listening,

to bloody repeats of

Beethoven and Bach.


I am rescued

but may as well be alone;

my owner not much company

asleep in the chair.

And though I sit at the door

asking for a late night wee,

most times my hinting

goes unaware.


I am rescued

and glad of the morning –

and another start to

Ground Dog Day,

But I have a roof over my head,

and food and water,

and for that,

I thankfully pray.


I am rescued

and serve a purpose.

My owner loves me,

I have to say.

And though at times

I could bolt to freedom,

I’m needed here –

It has to be this way.



Post tags:

November 2, 2016



and Winston called

en-route to the river,

a morning welcome

to deliver.

That Golden Retriever

from across the way –

a trusted pal became

from the first day.


and Penny came by

every now and then-

the name we christened,

a very cute pea-hen,

who visited from

Harcourt Arboretum

at Nunenham Courtenay,

looking for a crumb.


And next door’s cat-

a fluffy ‘black and white’,

in her magnificence

appeared at daylight.

Our Siamese boys

always the first to see

her prompt arrival,

would then alert me.


and our ageing Setter,

when turning grey,

lived out his life

in the best way,

with daily walks

along Sandford Lock-

a place we still re-visit

when taking stock,


of the dreaming spires

and seats of learning,

and autumns bliss,

when leaves were turning.

Though short lived was

to be our stay-

A place in our hearts,

Oxford, to this day.


A life lived through animals

who came and went.

Everyone a gift

from heaven sent.

The joy of nostalgia-

that two-edged sword.

A constant reminder

life shouldn’t be ignored.





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