Dorothy Carmadella

Born in 1925 in the Kolar Gold Fields, South India, Dorothy spent her retirement years in Christchurch, Dorset. Her very full life is recorded in her popular autobiography, A Special Loving, which demonstrates her commitment to the welfare of animals, her love of nature and her strong Christian beliefs. She completed a second volume only a week or two before her sudden death in June 2011. This book will be published by her executor, together with a selection of her poems.


From pastures green I saw them pick
This little lamb which tried to kick.
“What had it done?” my voice did cry,
“Nothing Luv, but today it must die!”
That warm and fleecy coat of white
Will be full bloodstained by tonight
The baas! The bleats! pierce the wind
And causes anguish to a heart that’s kind.
But, not all humans feel this pain
For there are those who worship monetary gain.
The more they kill, the more their till
With filthy lucre, coffers fill.
And so it is with pig and cow —
They stop, not a moment, to wonder how
They’d feel, if someone cut their neck
And ended life at another’s beck...
These creatures are within their rights
To live, be happy, enjoy the sights
That God above gave to us all —
To men, and creatures, both great and small.
He said, those many years ago,
“I give you plants and fruit galore.”
But man has turned these all aside
E’en mastered animals for their hide.
They make them into bags and coats
And take away the milk from goats.
The elephant they kill for tusk
And scourge the jungle when it’s dusk.
The pretty chick no longer free
In battery pen is forced to be.
The baby calf when newly born
Is from its mother cruelly torn
And put into a darkened seal
For human beings to eat as veal.
And what about the furry cat? The timid mouse?
The vivisector shares their house
With instruments both grim and dread —
The victims held until they’re dead.
God in Heaven take charge of man
And change his heart ’ere more years span.


The fishing boats put out to sea
Up the creek they sailed
Out with the tide and back again
Bringing cockles for somebody’s tea.

The sea spans out in distant view
A steamer speckles its gloss
The tracts of mud, a barrier form,
Between liner’s path and estuary blue.

The pebbles on shore lie gleaming bright,
Silvery waters recede at the brink
The sun gradually sinks, away in the west,
Til morn, when the bawleys glide back into sight.


I like to take one hour
Out of the day to call my own
One hour of sweet tranquility
Untroubled and alone.

Strolling, thinking, resting,
Let the world go by at will.
Whilst I meditate in a forest glade
And Father Time stands still.

I linger next an eerie tree
Which is sapless, perched and dry.
The solitude seems awesome;
Not even a bird does fly.

But, there before my very eyes
Is open space sunlit
Giving warmth and reassurance
As, in loneliness, I sit.


Forgive, O Lord, the men below
Who chopped the trees that birds no more
Could perch, and chirp, and fly around
In space that now is void of sound.

It was our Father’s will to make
This earth upon for us to live
He filled it with creative Grace
So all may have their proper place.

The trees, of course, will weep from pain
Their beauty dead, their structure torn
To shreds, to waste, to burn and toss
Whilst men on earth care not the loss!

The birds, another home they search
Perhaps — upon a kinder shore?
So they can build their lives and nests
No doubt their hope in God still rests.

Dorothy Carmadella