Notes About The Poem
Placed Ninth in: The Bruised Bird Poetry Contest of James Liguori
Syllables count checked on www.howmanysyllables.com>syllaable_counter
The Bruised Bird
The Bruised Bird
A parakeet, I raised as a dear child
That grew up to be smart and lived in style
A comely bird, with feathers black and white
Kept singing, to the ears a pure delight;
To me, a favoured flying feathered friend,
She would respond by Cheesy name till end,
She would chirp and offer some kind greetings
As I would visit her every morning.
But Stella, my cat, watched, with eyes so bright,
A hunter's astute instinct, sharp and light,
With a silent pounce grabbed the bird`s neck deep,
Snatched her life while I was dreaming in sleep
No more the parakeet`s song, the sweet sound,
Just feathers scattered to and fro on ground,
A broken cage alone, with silent swing,
No exquisite bird, morning song to sing.
Now air of silence hangs, where songbird flew,
A little cage, feels sad and empty, too.
My Cheesy is gone, a sorrowful loss,
My cat's blind jealousy, a heavy cross.
In two years, it`s the fourth bird in a row
To suffer the same fate and the same blow
From Stella`s powerful and punchy paws,
Ignoring nature`s prime and crucial laws.
Should I scold my cat for the sordid act?
She purrs and does not understand, in fact!
Shall I rear one more bird to see the day,
Suffer same fate as Cheesy, lost away?
These are thoughts that haunt the depth of my mind,
Response to which I sadly try to find
As I mourn the loss of a bird, so dear,
Loss of a friend, nailed in my heart so near.
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