A White parakeet with a pink bill, she
was all things feminine...
The birder's books said she should live
for approximately six months...
But, she sang through my love and devoted
care of her for ten years.
Her pink throat, her morning song to a God
She would weep when I left the house.
Then, one day her neck broke while she was flitting
about the cage, jovial as ever...
The bones simply too old.
Come Day Light, her tiny body cupped
in my palms, regard her still wings and explain
who will sing for either of us soulfully, now.
Blur of white wings, scent like hyacinth then
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Gilda by Romella Kitchens )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou