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Literature Text
Because She Lived
by Kelly Michelle Baker
Because she lived,
In time of the green,
I look back on the years,
And all I have seen.
Because she lived,
My greatest desire,
The world bears a prospect,
To muse and inspire.
Because she lived,
I pick up the pen,
And draw out her beauty,
Again and again.
Because she lived,
To speak without shame,
She'd lead her own march,
In a head bobbing game.
Because she lived,
I've lost the ability,
To wriggle my fingers,
With peached-leopard agility .
Because she lived,
In a time not so long,
The music of outside,
Plays a much stronger song.
Because she lived,
With vigor so busting,
We argued her cuteness,
Not ever adjusting.
Because she lived,
Some seeds by and by,
Hide hidden in corners,
In the places she'd fly.
Because she lived,
I now see so much,
For me and the others,
Of the lives that she touched.
Because she lived,
The feelings to feel,
Evade me at times,
When the memories are real.
Because she lived,
And though I long knew,
A life without wingbeats,
Could never be true.
Because she lived,
Regret rears its pain,
My heart screams demands,
To self-loath and disdain,
Because she lived,
I can't go to sleep,
In walls bit by silence,
I tremble and weep.
Because she lived,
To that day in the snow,
I saw how she hurt,
And just wished she would go.
Because she lived,
To those last passing hours,
The worst of all days,
And still it was ours.
And as I last held her,
Around her I gloved,
I whispered my promise,
To remember this love.
Since then I've seen summer,
And fall colors again,
The cold snow returns,
Back to where we begin.
And though the days pass me,
Some take, others give,
The moon beams new light,
Because she lived.
by Kelly Michelle Baker
Because she lived,
In time of the green,
I look back on the years,
And all I have seen.
Because she lived,
My greatest desire,
The world bears a prospect,
To muse and inspire.
Because she lived,
I pick up the pen,
And draw out her beauty,
Again and again.
Because she lived,
To speak without shame,
She'd lead her own march,
In a head bobbing game.
Because she lived,
I've lost the ability,
To wriggle my fingers,
With peached-leopard agility .
Because she lived,
In a time not so long,
The music of outside,
Plays a much stronger song.
Because she lived,
With vigor so busting,
We argued her cuteness,
Not ever adjusting.
Because she lived,
Some seeds by and by,
Hide hidden in corners,
In the places she'd fly.
Because she lived,
I now see so much,
For me and the others,
Of the lives that she touched.
Because she lived,
The feelings to feel,
Evade me at times,
When the memories are real.
Because she lived,
And though I long knew,
A life without wingbeats,
Could never be true.
Because she lived,
Regret rears its pain,
My heart screams demands,
To self-loath and disdain,
Because she lived,
I can't go to sleep,
In walls bit by silence,
I tremble and weep.
Because she lived,
To that day in the snow,
I saw how she hurt,
And just wished she would go.
Because she lived,
To those last passing hours,
The worst of all days,
And still it was ours.
And as I last held her,
Around her I gloved,
I whispered my promise,
To remember this love.
Since then I've seen summer,
And fall colors again,
The cold snow returns,
Back to where we begin.
And though the days pass me,
Some take, others give,
The moon beams new light,
Because she lived.
A poem I’ve been thinking about over the last few days. Maybe I just needed to write.
Moonbeam, Birdy, Beamer has been gone for 8 months now. I’m feeling much better. Many of you promised that time would do that. You were correct. Thank you. Nevertheless, as you can expect, the whole ordeal still haunts me, as I’m sure you too are haunted by your own memories. Sometimes the thoughts are dark, others bright (sadness is inevitably when looking back, but sometimes a funny video of her will get me laughing instead of tears).
So I wrote about both; the good, and the bad, and the after effects. Maybe not in the most eloquent way possible, but in the only way I could speak in this particular moment.
Acknowledgments: I actually got the meter idea from an episode of ‘Roseanne.’ Is that pathetic? Maybe, but I enjoyed the rhythm to express the point, and how the repeated line was used in the conclusion. I mimicked these ideas here.
Why today? I’ve not seen this episode in months or all that many times, so what triggered this? Two things, I think. One: I wiped down all the kitchen floor today. And in the corner behind the telephone table, I found a single seed. Maybe this is a warning that we don’t clean enough. Two: the dish of bird food in my room. It was the dish in her cage on that last night. I took it out of her cage because she wasn’t eating. It’s been on my dresser since. My dad just noticed it tonight, so I guess I started thinking about it with more clarity than usual.
I don’t have a drawing to go with it. It’s late, and this poem used up my creative juice for the night. Also, I can’t draw her again, not yet. Someday, definitely, I could fill a thousand sketchbooks with her. But as of now, I’m not sure I could go through with it.
Of course, dedicated to loving memory and spirit of a little bird, whom though small, made many whole.
Thanks for reading.
Moonbeam, Birdy, Beamer has been gone for 8 months now. I’m feeling much better. Many of you promised that time would do that. You were correct. Thank you. Nevertheless, as you can expect, the whole ordeal still haunts me, as I’m sure you too are haunted by your own memories. Sometimes the thoughts are dark, others bright (sadness is inevitably when looking back, but sometimes a funny video of her will get me laughing instead of tears).
So I wrote about both; the good, and the bad, and the after effects. Maybe not in the most eloquent way possible, but in the only way I could speak in this particular moment.
Acknowledgments: I actually got the meter idea from an episode of ‘Roseanne.’ Is that pathetic? Maybe, but I enjoyed the rhythm to express the point, and how the repeated line was used in the conclusion. I mimicked these ideas here.
Why today? I’ve not seen this episode in months or all that many times, so what triggered this? Two things, I think. One: I wiped down all the kitchen floor today. And in the corner behind the telephone table, I found a single seed. Maybe this is a warning that we don’t clean enough. Two: the dish of bird food in my room. It was the dish in her cage on that last night. I took it out of her cage because she wasn’t eating. It’s been on my dresser since. My dad just noticed it tonight, so I guess I started thinking about it with more clarity than usual.
I don’t have a drawing to go with it. It’s late, and this poem used up my creative juice for the night. Also, I can’t draw her again, not yet. Someday, definitely, I could fill a thousand sketchbooks with her. But as of now, I’m not sure I could go through with it.
Of course, dedicated to loving memory and spirit of a little bird, whom though small, made many whole.
Thanks for reading.
© 2010 - 2024 Moundfreek
Comments3
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This is so beautiful! The repetition flows so well- this type of poem isn't an easy thing to do, so I commend you for that.
What a fitting tribute to your friend. I wrote a poem like this when one of my dogs had some pretty scary health problems quite a few years back. They've both passed on in the past year, but you made me want to write something for them again.
I really, really love this.
What a fitting tribute to your friend. I wrote a poem like this when one of my dogs had some pretty scary health problems quite a few years back. They've both passed on in the past year, but you made me want to write something for them again.
I really, really love this.