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2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 3

Categories: Poetry Challenge 2012, Poetry Prompts, Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Blog.

For today’s prompt, there are actually two options, because it’s Tuesday, which means a “Two for Tuesday” prompt. They are:

  • Write an apology poem, or…
  • Write an unapologetic poem.

Your choice. You can be sorry–or not. Or write about someone who is sorry–or not.

Here’s my attempt:

“I Am Really Sorry”

I didn’t return your call. I told you
that I did. The world is against you
(it really is). Some people make you feel
unwanted every day. When I join
them. It’s taken me this long to accept
you without turning away from you. That
it’s very likely I’ll do it again.

*****

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About Robert Lee Brewer

Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

580 Responses to 2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 3

  1. creilley says:

    NO FOOLING

    I am good at hiding things
    I have been doing it all of my life.
    If you met me
    on the street
    at a party
    on the job
    you would never know
    that I am a core of hunger
    wrapped in fleshy enigma
    wanting what I cannot have,
    or gave away,
    or let slip from my grasp.

    Wish in one hand,
    spit in the other,
    see which one fills up first
    was Nanny’s advice,
    but to never let myself
    be who I was
    behind the mask
    was to deny myself
    the freedom to fail.

    Is it possible to accrue time
    day after day as I age,
    and lose the time I have left
    day after day spent
    simultaneously?

    I look at the gray,
    the wrinkles and creases,
    my six-pack become a keg
    and the only part of the boy I was
    is the twinkle in my blue eyes.
    And I try to fool myself into thinking
    that is enough,
    that I am still me inside here
    even if nobody ever knows.

    But there is no fooling
    an old fool,
    is there?

  2. hcfbutton says:

    Reaction.
    I claim self-defense
    as I watch myself
    tear your emotional limbs
    apart. The look on
    your face, a mix of
    anguish and confusion
    is beautiful. l am
    disgusted that l find it so.
    Impulse drives me.
    I can’t stop the abuse
    as l channel all my
    frustrations into betrayal.
    You bear the brunt of it
    and I grieve the loss
    of your innocence.

    Also posted on my blog at http://hcfitzpatrick.com/2013/04/03/apology-april-pad-challenge-day-3/

  3. hohlwein says:

    [I'm so completely late. I missed the entire month. Something came up. I know school is closed but I'm going to try to submit my homework anyway]….

    Afternoon Nap

    I wake to eternity straddled above me

    two hard pulses
    like through my chest

    and I seize
    back into my middle-aged body

    my heart mid leap
    my vision straddling some web
    of stars or folded dunes or webs,
    or schools of iridescent smelt
    or more of a story

    hold me

    my life mid
    extending away into four
    (at least)
    dimensions around me

    It is two in the afternoon
    and I have no children to attend to

    I have just what my empty hands can build.

    I run them over the nap-warm sheet
    and they travel where they will
    feeling as
    awake
    they want to do

    I could apologize for that.
    Beyond the dissipation of that
    especially breath
    earned
    waited for

    over
    starts the enormity
    that will devour me.

    That’s nothing to apologize for.
    I am not much more than light.

    Flickering:

    Out.
    Ecstatic.

    Out.

  4. Lana Walker says:

    We regret to inform you
    that apologies are
    no longer being accepted.

    We are sorry for any
    inconvenience this
    may cause.

    In lieu of an apology
    please submit an
    excuse.

  5. LCaramanna says:

    Never Too Late to Apologize

    an apology
    never out of style
    outdated
    passé
    never limited by time expiring
    a sincere expression of regret
    I’m sorry
    lets bygones be bygones
    an apology
    accepted
    never too late
    to resolve

  6. David Yockel Jr. says:

    Necessary Angels

    Wallace Stevens visits me
    in my dreams. We discuss reality,
    the imagination and rising
    insurance premiums.

    He blathers on about Freud,
    Sunday mornings and the night
    he went a few rounds
    with Hemingway in Key West.

    We sit on front porches most
    winter mornings smoking big
    cigars and watch blackbirds
    peck out the eyes of a snowman

    bearing an uncanny resemblance
    to Democritus. He tells me stories
    of haunted houses, the mind
    of the virile young poet

    and angels in white night-gowns carrying
    flowers wrapped up in the morning paper.

  7. An Unheard Apology

    Oh my. Is it 2012 already?
    Who’d have thought the time
    would whoosh so fast? Why
    only yesterday I sat down
    with my hammer and chisel
    clasped in my hands ready
    to inscribe one more stone
    with future calendar dates,
    as I had for endless days.

    Then a lovely Mayan lady
    I’d never met walked past
    and I could not concentrate.
    When I tore my eyes away,
    returned them to the stone
    I saw, instead of months
    and numbered days, rows
    and rows of scored hearts.
    I had to find a new stone.

    I rolled the ruined rock
    to the dump then headed
    for the boulder shop and,
    believe it or not, ran into
    the Mayan maiden who
    had captured my heart.
    One thing led to another
    of course, so here we are:
    2012, my work not done.

    The world is busy buzzing
    about Armageddon coming
    since my calendar stopped.
    No one, least of all my boss,
    will listen to my explanation.
    I lost my job, can’t support
    a wife. What good is love
    if you have no life? They
    will not let me apologize.

  8. MsGenuineLady says:

    I really did not mean to cause so much pain
    Listen please, let me explain
    I know I only have myself to blame,
    I promise it was just a simple game
    Of basketball

    The garbage bin the net
    My gum the ball
    I shot a 3 pointer from across the hall
    It had perfect aim, it was going in I swear
    That was until you blocked it with your hair
    And now I AM apologizing, it just isn’t fair

  9. cstewart says:

    Poem of Apology

    I am sorry that the trees lose their leaves in the fall.
    But unremorseful when they bloom in the spring.

    I am sorry the lands flood over wide expanses of fields
    But happy that the water recedes and new grass grows.

    I am sorry that people have to die to protect their rights,
    But glad the movement is ever forward without question.

    I am sorry that the most tender of us is broken and dies,
    But glad that more than can be imagined is created again.

  10. cstewart says:

    Unapologetic Poem

    I am glad to be a woman
    I am happy to be an artist
    I am glad I am a writer
    I am happy to create.

    In my most quiet moments,
    I am at one with myself.
    In the dark hours before dawn,
    In the unspoken moments,
    When the night wind whispers.

    I am glad to be a woman.
    I am happy to be an artist
    I am glad I am a writer
    I am happy to create.

  11. Paoos69 says:

    Apologies to the Deserving

    Fathomless, treacherous horizons
    The dos and donts
    The etiquette, the manners
    Curbing, controlling, calling
    Assuring, assuming, accusing
    A ritual all

    A tactful thank you
    A pleasing please
    A submissive sorry
    Create magical music
    And yet to some, for some
    These are delicacies

    Coming to think of it
    Do all deserve these fortitudes?
    Aren’t some folks just amiss?
    Why not be a Roman in Rome
    And rise from ritual
    For those few, foundering ferals?

  12. tunesmiff says:

    UNAPOLOGETIC

    I’m not sorry for most of what I’ve done,
    Trying to live and have a little fun,
    I never meant to cause anybody harm,
    I wasget just looking for life… beyond the farm…

    CH:
    And my daddy said,
    “Boy, there’s a world,
    Beyond this wire fence,
    And to tell you the truth,
    Sometimes it makes no sense.
    But Son you can go,
    As far as you need,
    And you can always come home
    To your mama and me…”

    He didn’t have to tell me twice,
    I’d set my sites on those city lights,
    and I didn’t waste much time in my leaving…
    Though I tried not to see my mama’s grieving…

    But I heard my daddy’s words saying,
    “Boy there’s a world,
    Beyond this wire fence,
    And to tell you the truth,
    Sometimes it makes no sense.
    But Son you can go,
    As far as you need,
    And you can always come back,
    To your mama and me…”

    BR:
    He added,
    “We’re not ashamed of how we raised ya…
    We may not like some of things you’ll do…
    But no matter if they damn or if they praise you…
    We won’t apologize for loving you…”

    CH:
    And I found
    A big old world
    Beyond that wire fence,
    And to tell you the truth,
    Sometimes it makes no sense,
    And while they let me go,
    Where ever my heart would lead,
    It always led me home,
    Where they would welcome me…
    It always led me home where they would welcome me…

  13. ratgirl says:

    Remorse of a Buddhist Serial Killer

    How could you? How dare you force my hand to pull the trigger, then
    watch this tiny line of semicolons scatter then freeze? It’s
    not even the kill but the aftermath. Cleaning up the bodies, I can’t escape
    one tiny dot and comma who pauses to inspect a face among the recently dead,
    and a fist made of guilt and breakfast jams itself under the cleft of my ribcage.
    How dare you. How dare you force your lives into my hands.
    I don’t want to stay up at night hating myself.

    And so I decide to take on the veil of the night predator,
    killing you in the dark so I can’t see what I crush, or identify
    the tiny pop that ends your scrambling, hard wired mission.
    I’m not fooled by my own guile. If you have blood, it is on my hands.
    I didn’t ask for this. Why do I have to be your executioner?

    Goddamn it, ants. I tried everything I could. I would never come into your
    house armed with semi-automatic poisons so why do you slither
    wobbly lines into mine? Why mock my efforts to handle
    this peacefully by drooling out of my electric toothbrush outlet?
    Clearly you feed upon blue sparks and a death- worthy joy
    at watching my guilt driven madness.

  14. kingac says:

    Sorry No Vacancy

    Dust quietly gathers
    in laden pools;
    trying to crawl –
    filling every crevice
    with unknown certainty.

    It’s crowded in here,
    my thoughts and I.
    Quite a bombastic
    claustrophobic party.
    I-Pod volume set to max.

    -John Pupo

  15. JRSimmang says:

    You will reach an age
    where your bones will not bend,
    your breath will not be easy,
    and your sight will disappear along the horizon.
    Your fingers will tremble, crooked and broken,
    your hair, white with wisdom, will cease upon your pate.
    But you cannot see that now.
    Your life to be lived,
    is lived right now.
    Age, you think,
    strikes the unfortunate.
    Age, you think,
    smothers the vulnerable.
    Age, you think,
    holds no treasures except for the aged.
    You sit, knees a bob,
    finger in phone,
    as the world whirs away a silent reproach.
    As you pander to the premature,
    scintillating adolescence,
    you will witness a wrinkle,
    a fold in your fabric,
    and you too will behold yourself with the same
    apologies as I do now.
    You cannot run.
    You should not run.
    Become old and grey,
    and with it become whole.

  16. I am sorry
    That you’re not sorry
    For the veil or red
    You can’t see through
    And I am sorry
    That you’re not sorry
    for the words you hurtle
    At us so carelessly
    I am sorry
    That you’re not sorry
    About the damage
    That has been left
    For someone else
    To sweep up
    Behind you

  17. Miss R. says:

    To the Forgotten Characters of Abandoned Stories

    I’m sorry that I never quite finished
    Coloring in your souls.
    To be honest, I barely completed the outline
    Before my attention began to waver.
    I guess I should be thankful
    That you remained so flat,
    Because you stick to the page
    And cannot haunt me in my sleep.
    I do miss you, a little,
    But I cannot promise to rescue you
    From your static page-three entrance.
    The prince was supposed to do that,
    But I didn’t know his name.
    He never lived to ride across the pages,
    And slowly flickered away
    In the annals of my mind.
    I’m sorry I left you alone,
    But you see,
    There was this other story . . .

  18. emmajordan says:

    I’m not sorry
    even though I yelled at you
    in a loud and angry voice.
    You shouldn’t have done that
    it was mean
    it made me sad.
    I cleaned ketchup from
    walls and floor
    bedspread and pillows.
    Erased bad words
    accusations
    with my sponge.
    Go stand in the corner
    think about what you’ve done
    till you apologise and mean it, daddy.

  19. cajun75 says:

    Sorry

    Wishy, washy back and forth
    Is it yes or is it no?
    Hard to decide
    Yet I must choose
    He wants an answer now.

    I love him yes
    I love him no
    I must decide
    So say “I’m sorry”
    And turn and go.

  20. Caren says:

    Sorry…

    You may have noticed, maybe not;
    I’ve been distracted, lost in thought.
    No, that’s not right, ’cause let’s be frank,
    When I try and think, the page is blank.
    I’ve been going in circles, running in place,
    And frequently, I’ve been lost in space.
    You see, there’s something I can’t find:
    I’m sorry to say, but I’ve lost my mind.

    Caren E. Salas

  21. po says:

    Apology

    I am sorry
    I ever doubted
    you.

    We all know
    that men are
    perfect and only
    improve with age.

    But the fact
    remains once
    in awhile
    I need you
    to listen.

  22. Katrin says:

    I am really sorry
    you can’t apologize

    I’ve heard you say the word
    always followed by
    Comma But, which we both
    know is just the usual false-front
    along Main Street

    To apologize requires a very simple,
    but nearly impossible action: an opening
    of the chest cavity to reveal
    the beating heart and its
    proximity to the spleen

    How we must, in remorse,
    simply acknowledge we are humans, not
    gods, who only accept apologies

    When you can’t, that self-
    righteous bramble must irritate inside,
    as does the heaviness you give

    I wish I didn’t need to want one—
    an Apology arriving in a glittering
    carriage, accompanied by a strings’
    tremolo’d crescendo into the major
    key of Sunrise

    I’m so sorry
    you can’t.

  23. erinne says:

    i saw a man pushing
    a cart today
    full of marshmallow cereal
    and applesauce
    and a dozen red roses
    laying over some lollipops.
    a charming smile
    with kind eyes.
    the kind that are
    determined to
    find her favorite
    frozen meal
    but there’s so many
    to choose from-
    they all look the same.
    the little girl in tow shouts
    “daddy, daddy i think it’s this one”
    he cant say no-
    into the cart it goes.
    he looks up and
    catches me off guard.
    i quickly glue my eyes
    to the french fry freezer.
    they pass by hand-in-hand.
    for a split second,
    i want to pull out my phone.
    i want to tell him that
    he’s missed everything
    and how dare he …
    but i look down at her,
    smiling, as she covers
    herself with groceries for two.
    deep down i don’t care
    if he’s sorry
    or not
    because, she and I,
    we’ve got each other.

  24. carolecole66 says:

    Phone Call

    I know I should have returned your call
    but somehow, the kitchen floor
    demanded that I mop it first; and then
    the cat needed to be fed, the litter cleaned.
    I picked up the phone once to call you back
    but got off track by laundry, lunch, smudges
    on the sliding doors. Holding the phone I stepped
    outside to watch three monarch butterflies
    tremble on the edge of the fountain next
    to the patio. And so, filled with Buddha bliss
    I went inside to fix some tea, leaving
    the phone outside in a sudden storm. It’s
    still on the garden bench while I sit dry inside,
    gazing through the rain-swept glass, sending you
    the love I fail to speak.

  25. carolecole66 says:

    Phone Call

    I know I should have returned your call
    but somehow, the kitchen floor
    demanded that I mop it first; and then
    the cat needed to be fed, the litter cleaned.
    I picked up the phone once to call you back
    but got off track by laundry, lunch, smudges
    on the sliding doors. Holding the phone I stepped
    outside to watch three monarch butterflies
    tremble on the edge of the fountain next
    to the patio. And so, filled with Buddha bliss
    I went inside to fix some tea, leaving
    the phone outside in a sudden storm. It’s
    still on the garden bench while I sit dry inside,
    gazing through the rain-swept glass, sending you
    the love I fail to speak.

  26. Jannelee says:

    THE ALMOST APOLOGY

    Should I say I am I sorry
    I suppose
    You were almost right
    when you said I was wrong
    But how wrong was I
    or was I wrong at all
    The things you said were not quite right
    The things I said were almost right
    Just how right was I
    or was I right at all
    Who was right and who was wrong
    Or were either of us
    right or wrong at all
    Should I suppose I’m to blame
    Or did you cause it all
    So am I sorry
    Now I’m not sure at all

  27. shann says:

    had trouble signing on- seems to be okay today

    A Plate on a Stick

    In constant rotation, it has one job-
    don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall
    dependent on someone else’s skill,
    always ready to take the blame
    when it crashes, the plate endures
    blessed by the certain assurance
    it will be caught whole in the end.
    don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall
    The rhythmic chant defines:
    the spinners’s hands, sticks, plates
    in symbiotic motion, unconcerned
    with the inevitable pull of gravity,
    the shudder growing to a wobble,
    don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall
    but everything does eventually.

    Should I have locked the door,
    begged you stay? Caught up
    in the spectacle, I kept spinning,
    thinking you would always be
    there to catch me when I fell.

  28. gtabasso says:

    What You Took, What I Gave

    I have said I am sorry
    enough times to make me ache,
    gain weight, make my friends hate me,
    but there has been nothing from you
    but asking for more
    because I taught you to take.
    Here, an insufficient list
    of what is the same:

    a horse, a home
    savings account for your son
    how to parent him
    a camping trip
    Asian food, dinner and drinks
    places you’ll never be
    money, a license, a car
    a divorce, court costs and fines
    warrants, an attorney
    respect, budget
    Xmas and birthday gifts
    a place to belong
    books and movies
    a film fest
    Easter eggs
    St. Patty’s Day
    multiple orgasms
    belief
    a job
    responsibility
    confidence
    clothes
    worship
    someone who misses you
    listens to you
    Mithrac temples & Groucho Marx
    Joseph Campbell
    songs in the shower

    Take care of yourself and remind me,
    what do I owe you, again?

  29. Christod says:

    The Lake Boy.

    There’s a boy across the lake who
    wears me as a regret sewn into
    the button hole of a jacket bought
    by a new love

    but I did not hand him the thread
    when he handed me my coat,

    so I bent his sorry into the first
    boat out of his town, with only
    a stitch unpicker held in my hand.

  30. Yolee says:

    Mama

    I watched a mom chastise her daughter for crayoning green mean words
    on the chapel wall. Displeasure grew in that mom’s voice like a siren
    on an emergency vehicle closing in on its destination.
    “I can’t believe..you know better” The 8ish year old girl released
    impoverished tears that seem to come as a plea bargain rather than regret .
    Apologies spilled from the mom’s mouth to the Bishop as her tone switched
    gears to a low rumbling vehicle at a red light.

    In the stupor of my growing years I stomped on advice crushing the plant life
    you carefully grew and pruned. Your heart received troubling messages from my
    teenage mouth that must have been like unsolicited mail.

    You probably don’t remember all the folly, dim-witted, hurtful things.
    But what did they do to that beautiful heart of yours? Did they stay
    like uninvited houseguests with bad habits, foul breath and no purpose ?

    I apologize for things that have been vacuumed in the sill of memory,
    and take back everything that made you feel as if the garden would never bloom.
    I regret tears I caused that were like acid streaming down your heart.
    Please forgive my lack of compassion, disdain for authority, for writing
    unthinkable words on the wall where you projected good things for me.

    I love you.

  31. HannaAnna says:

    The All Important Shirt

    I’m supposed to be sorry for forgetting to wash your shirt while you were at work today?
    Well consider this:
    I scrubbed the toilet and bathtub you use everyday.
    I cleaned, swept, mopped, and vacuumed.
    I made lunches, did dishes, and I’m trying to get dinner on the table for you right now.
    I’ve taken the kids to soccer practice, done the grocery shopping, and searched for half an hour for Milly’s lost toy.
    I paid the bills and took the baby to the doctor.
    I’ve changed diapers and listened to endless crying all… day… long.
    Over the last week I’ve spent endless hours helping with homework assignments.
    I haven’t stopped to read a book or take a nap in months,
    but you kick up your feet and watch TV everyday when you get home from work…
    nothing to worry about since I take care of it all.
    But okay, I’m sorry I forgot about your all important shirt.
    It will be on the top of my priority list from now on.

  32. SylviaE says:

    September 16, 1975. Why?

    It’s hard not to hate myself for getting hooked to you
    I’m not sorry I had your kids (why do mothers do that? no matter what hell they’re usually happy to have the kids)
    I am sorry you are their father and you should be sorry for that
    Trading them so easily for strangers
    Only assholes use and abuse their families
    You are as dangerous as a predator to prey. sorry to the new sufferer

    I carried the weight in so many more ways than I was able
    All my joints wore down to the point I couldn’t live without regret, pain or apology

    You may think I am bitter and blaming but who’s to say?
    Yes. I could fault you forever.
    And yet, there comes a time to simply say sorry
    to myself,
    and move on.

  33. JoBella says:

    In memory of Williams Carlos Williams

    She had our Barbies in her hands, held dangerously above her pool
    one-two-three
    mine accidently went in the water
    she said “Sorry”
    I knew she said “not”

    That other time we fought
    I bit her
    because she ripped my dress
    I had to go next door to say “sorry”, but I wasn’t
    all the while she sat smug in her little chair
    in her pink bedroom
    in front of her TV

    Who has a TV in her bedroom
    in 1964?
    she did
    Star
    who calls their child Star?
    we called her Baby Huey
    behind her back

  34. annell says:

    I was away… I am returned… I will catch up. I’ve written a little something and will post it at http://www.annell.annell.wordpress.com

  35. Michaela says:

    Unapology
    by Michaela Vanden Bosch

    His eyes are fire
    Shooting sparks into my soul
    His voice a syringe
    Drawing poison from the vial
    And plunging it into my veins

    My being is dying
    It’s a slow and painful fade
    Lasting long eons
    Yet taking only seconds
    Is this what an apology does?

    He is breaking me
    This apology is crushing me
    Not an apology at all
    He is hating me
    With his unapology

    Making my resolve
    I won’t come down any more
    I am stopping at this point
    Your unapologetic words
    Have produced in me this unapolgy

    I unapologize for my kindness
    I unapologize for every apology
    I unapologize for saying I’m sorry
    You don’t deserve me
    Just this unapology

  36. Mr. Walker says:

    Dear piddling small stuff,
    won’t sweat you,
    and I’m not sorry.

    (a Kelly lune)

  37. Jaywig says:

    Day 3 – an apology or not

    I’m sorry but you’re not welcome
    you in your black shiny suit
    strutting and scratching
    as if you own this country.

    Interloper, of complicated yet
    pleasant song, alarmist
    clucking at cats, I fall for it -
    until you throw mulch across

    my pebbled paths, leave it
    for someone -me- to restore.
    I prefer rosellas and wrens
    the dashing honeyeater -

    vibrant colours, tree-top high
    fliers, telling me stories.
    You bustle about, making a mess.
    I’ve had enough: bye bye

    blackbird!

  38. drwasy says:

    16 DAYS

    If I could peel away time
    each second a papery layer
    I would go back to the moment
    sixteen days ago when you
    were settled into the hospital bed
    white sheeted, stuffed kitty-corner
    in the downstairs spare room
    and the hospice nurse
    showed me how to peel plastic
    from patches and adhere them
    to your neck, shoulder, back
    and taught me how to crush
    pills fine as ash
    and dissolve the dust
    in the barest amount of water
    enough to flow down the tube
    that once fed your stomach
    I would travel back to that afternoon
    the sun in hiding
    the room walls glow mournful yellow
    and listen more carefully
    as nurse explains how much to give,
    how often, and I would decide
    then to double both,
    as I promised I would

    ***
    Peace, LindaS-W

  39. Arike says:

    trail

    crack in the pavement
    hole in the tree
    stalk without flower
    shambling walk to a

    wounded animal
    alcohol like blood
    in your veins on your clothes
    a vapour over you
    attracting predators

    no wallet no salary no food
    im sorry anna no i cant take this
    no wife no kids no home

  40. bclay says:

    Indifferent

    You have until tomorrow
    to gather all your things here,
    clean out your desk and cabinets
    and turn in your current work and keys.

    I apologize that it came to this
    but you were given ample warning,
    everyone follows the rules around here
    except you, do you have any regrets now?

  41. Tanjamaltija says:

    I am not sorry
    For what I have become
    And you must not be sorry either
    For you have moulded me into what I am today
    From the shattered pieces
    Of whom you destroyed yesterday.
    I hope you are proud of me.
    I know I am!

  42. dextrousdigits says:

    Mirror Mirror
    It was a luxurious hot shower
    leaving my body soft and clean
    scented with lavendar
    the warm bath towel wrapped around my trunk
    I stand in front of the full length mirror.

    Noticed the little bald spot
    in my otherwise full left eyebrow
    then the crooked right clavicle
    and my eyes wander down
    past full breasts, belly button
    below the towel
    to the white line inside my left knee
    I’d forgotten all about that line.

    I unwrap the towel and see
    my bi-level right buttocks which
    looks a bit like a hump back camel
    and the surgical scar across my lower belly
    once measured at one & 7/8 inches
    bellow the belly button and 4 inches long
    and the missing left outer labia
    a bit lower down.

    None of these scars make me cringe,
    none embarrass me,
    I have no apologies or regrets
    each a badge of honor that says
    I have lived a full life.
    I have made mistakes,
    I have learned lessons
    and said yes, yes, yes
    much more than no.

  43. thebearpaw says:

    Dear Mr. Man!

    I’m sorry for the
    things you say that
    make you feel so proud
    the things that make you
    feel so big and that make
    you loud.
    I’m sorry for your
    knee-jerk ways that
    make you feel so strong
    the ways that make you
    think so little and not of
    your self-deluded throng.
    I’m sorry for your
    lack of wit that
    when push comes to shove
    The ways you don’t
    know which hole you use
    the one below
    or above.

  44. MeenaRose says:

    Here is my attempt: http://meenarose.wordpress.com/2012/04/03/2012-april-pad-challenge-day-3/

    Now I Remember
    By: Meena Rose

    Dear Self,
    I would like to extend
    This apology to you!
    Wait, should that be me instead?

    Sorry, I got side tracked
    On semantics again. Where
    Was I? Oh yes, apologizing!

    I am sorry I ignored you,
    I am sorry I neglected you,
    I am sorry I lost respect for you,
    I am sorry I doubted you,
    I am sorry I stopped believing in you!

    As if these crimes were
    Not bad enough,
    I am really sorry
    For forgetting you!

  45. Lynn Burton says:

    I’m Not Really Sorry

    Blurry eyed, word weary,
    I emerge from the dark corners
    and splintered memories of my mind.
    I should probably apologize
    for the moodiness and
    down right lack of attention,
    but I must get back to work.
    These poems won’t write themselves.

  46. donnellyk says:

    AMENDS

    The stitch marks alongside the thickened scar
    Are there to remind me of what a monster you
    are.
    .
    I toppled head over heels for you and ended
    In a heap at the bottom of the stairs, broken,
    bended.

    Bulging veins in your forehead, raging,
    tyrant tactics no longer
    engaging
    but me, now swaddled in self loathing, self hate
    red.

    Are you sorry to know you snuffed out my spirit?
    Will your pride keep the walls up so you aren’t able to hear it?

    I’d be sorry for the years that I spent as a victim
    If only I could find the best way to convict him.

  47. Uma says:

    Pardon

    The life of my lord will be bound securely in the bundle of the living by the LORD your God, but the lives of your enemies he will hurl away as from the pocket of a sling.” 1 Samuel 25: 29

    He saw the smoke curl out of the chimney,
    aroma of spices in food got carried in the breeze -
    preparation of a sumptuous meal he was turned
    away from. Lamb curried in sauce – he counted the sheep
    near the fence, could tell the one in the cooking bowl.

    He sat on the rock beside a lizard with beaded eyes,
    the even breathing of the reptile kept his anger down. After all
    he had been like wall of the town, oversaw the cattle graze,
    counted the tattoos of brown sheep on arid pasture land
    like tracking eye floaters that swam into his vision.

    He squinted at the woman bobbing like ball on water,
    intense midday sun cut her up into slats of light.
    The large skirt ballooned into two balls as she straddled
    a donkey, a train of servants carried baskets of bread,
    pressed fig cake, cooked meat, and wine to wash the food.

    Hair blew on her face flushed like ripe peach, her shirt
    was smudged with coal dust from kebab roasted on fire:
    hours of labour spent to appease him. She implored
    for his temperance, let the Lord deal with enemies. Did she
    will her husband’s death, see herself the queen of Israel?

  48. Rosangela says:

    Counter-intuitive

    Apologize?
    Why?
    For this?
    No!
    I definitely won’t.
    Not me!
    Sorry!

  49. StephanieRosieG says:

    patterns pulled from searching email for the word “sorry”

    Sorry I didn’t return it before
    Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk last night
    Sorry I’ve been lousy about communicating
    Sorry about the
    Sorry I’ve been terrible about responding
    Sorry to hear the chaos has continued
    Sorry I’ve been a stranger
    Sorry I missed your call
    Sorry I’m so last minute about this
    Sorry that you’re feeling dissatisfied
    Sorry you’re crabby
    Sorry I had you worried
    Sorry about the space-cadet moment
    Sorry I didn’t get back to you
    Sorry
    Sorry
    No, really. I’m sorry.

  50. cam45237 says:

    The Mokume Blade

    What can I do to prove my abject sorrow?
    Bare my throat?
    My breast?
    My belly?
    To forged and folded steel
    Let it slide past skin and into viscera?
    With only a whisper and a soft rip?

    Must I wield the knife myself?
    Must my own hand scar my face?
    Or carve an X across my heart?
    Or spill the blood that drains from wrists and splashes through my palms?

    I know that tears are not enough
    That words are not enough
    Acts of contrition, flagellation, prayers and pleas and whimpers will
    Not reverse, repair, reanimate, reclaim, rebuild
    Nor yet prise from your lips
    A single sentence.

    How can I pursue my absolution?
    When you withhold hope
    Hold back your hand
    Step back beyond my reach?

    And how will you find your own forgiveness
    For the damage you have done
    Irreparable
    To me?

  51. Akua says:

    TV Advice

    I didn’t leave
    i let you go.
    Dr. Phil did not yet exist
    as the one to tell me so
    nor did Judge Judy
    each day i watch others
    break and make mistakes
    on version of you
    and at last, I’m glad
    you’re long past, gone.

  52. kenia_cris says:

    Late, but not least, here is my piece:

    Sometimes
    I look at people around me
    and wonder how I’m going to hurt them,
    how they’re going to hurt me,

    if
    we’ll
    eventually
    apologize,

    Who will really mean it.

  53. Birds of a Different Song

    You know, I’m really sorry things never
    materialized when we were together
    I guess mere attraction doesn’t
    mean love after all
    And if we were ever “love birds”
    We never took flight
    Rather our wings were clipped
    Scratch, claw, fight
    And there was no song between us
    Just birds of a foreign feather
    My fickleness, your weather
    My paycheck, your pleasure
    My macho tendency, your insecurities
    My vindication, your javelins
    My containment, your unravelings
    We were never meant to be
    Separated, divorced
    And now we’re three
    I hope you find
    that love song
    in the bird
    you so
    longed
    for
    goodbye.

  54. SORRY

    He’s left bits of old sock scattered around,
    and tracked dead oak leaves over the carpet.
    Now he’s asleep snoring in front of the TV.
    What do you expect, apologies? He’s a dog.
    If you’re angry, of course he’s sorry.
    He loves you even when you say “scram!”
    Just look at those big brown puppy eyes
    and try to tell him you don’t love him back.

  55. seingraham says:

    Too Late Too Little

    No matter how much I go over this
    How I try to reword and rephrase
    There is just no way I can articulate
    Adequately my sorrow to you
    In any meaningful way and I know
    You get that, you understand
    And probably don’t even want
    To hear it anymore, or maybe
    You do – after awhile – and let’s
    Face it, it’s been a long, long while
    Hasn’t it, my darling – at least
    This time – it’s been a long time

    But then, now – it’s been a long
    Spell in the dark again … and that
    was something I didn’t expect
    Maybe that’s why it’s taken me
    such an extended period of
    indecision disguised as the usual
    Bout of procrastination
    To even try address this at all
    You know? You have to know
    How desperately sorry I am
    At least I hope you do …

    S.E.Ingraham

    That for Which I Refuse to Be Sorry

    She’s pretty savvy my therapist
    And after I leave her office
    I am braver than usual, buoyed
    By her advice and kind words

    She makes sense when she tells
    Me the science of my disorder
    and compares it to other types
    Of illnesses with more physical

    Components – making me believe
    I am more than the sum of my craziness
    My DNA/RNA genetic makeup
    That there is nothing about me

    For which I need to feel apologetic
    No matter what outrageous behaviour
    May have led me to seek her advice
    This time, her wise counsel, her absolution.

    S.E.ngraham

  56. No apologies

    The little presents you gave
    the magic eight ball,
    the framed movie poster of
    Pulp Fiction, all have found
    their way to a pile of
    decomposing trash.

    The cd’s I pretended to like -
    the ones you made for me,
    will never spin and spin in
    the mini stereo on my book shelf
    ever again.

    I’ve donated every shirt you’ve
    given me to Goodwill.

    I’ve purposely over-fed your fish.

    I used your toothbrush to clean the
    hair dye stains out of the tub.

    I had your mail forwarded to a
    random address I found in the phone book.

  57. The Fair Sex

    I will always laugh
    At your weak –
    Face lit –
    By the glow –
    Of my signal flare hips

    Your firework
    Eyes tell me
    There is nothing
    Fair about my sex

  58. Sheryl says:

    Unapologetic

    Her neighbor supervised many workers.
    With her earnings she remodeled her home.
    Her confidence grew as she worked.
    It was what responsible adults did, you know.

    She simply supervised her kids
    as they learned the basics of life.
    Her confidence grew as they grew.
    For her “irresponsibility” she did not apologize.

    They “knew” everyone’s truth
    was to be respected and tolerated.
    She knew Jesus—the Way, the Truth, the Life.
    For that she would not apologize.

    Sheryl Kay Oder

  59. Whoops! I apologize for the double post. No pun intended! Lol!

  60. SORRY DON’T FEED THE REINDEER

    The naughty list gets longer,
    the nice list…not so much.
    It’s early, and I haven’t time
    for this misbehaving as such.

    I know you’re trying harder
    than you’ve ever tried before,
    but at this pace you’ll lose all face
    because I know the score.

    So don’t tell me that you’re sorry,
    your sincerity’s in doubt,
    and it won’t feed the reindeer,
    for it carries little clout.

    You must get on my good side
    to champion your cause.
    And don’t think twice; you best be nice
    because I am Santa Claus.

  61. Another Route

    I’ll be damned if I apologize
    In this lifetime or in the next
    By phone, in person, with rose or text

    By golly who do you think I am?
    I don’t do “I’m sorry” green eggs and ham
    Like some mindless marble or spineless brute
    Ain’t seekin’ forgiveness, got another route
    I’ve jumped that plane in full gear, parachute
    And sure as hell ain’t losin’ no sleep
    Over you…

  62. Marcia Gaye says:

    Apology

    To quote Tevye:
    When you spit into the air
    it falls in your face.
    This apology
    like so much mucous and phlegm
    dangles from my lips
    where it won’t shake loose.

  63. hurtin-heart says:

    SORRY
    You say you’re sorry but you have yet to prove!
    Your apolagies mean nothing
    When you continue hurting those around you.
    How much longer!
    Must you continue the path you’re on.
    Thinking you’re always right,
    And the rest of the world is wrong!
    I’ve said i’m sorry a thousand times,
    For things i haven’t done
    And proved it time after time.
    But in your mind you see things only one way.
    And though i’ve tried many times,
    I’m most sorrowful,
    that i can’t help you change your ways.
    For you have a good heart
    But life has caused anger to consume you.
    Maybe one day you can finally
    let go of the past,and prove your apologies
    Are honest and true.

  64. Marie Elena says:

    A few more that impress me:

    Golden Rule (Amen to this)
    Everything Mike Grove and everything Jane Shlensky
    Melissa’s Forgive and Forget

  65. Let’s try this again…

    “Forgive and Forget”

    Love thy neighbor…
    Love thy neighbor…
    I remind myself of the command.
    To love my neighbor
    as a favor
    to One pierced in hands,

    and feet,

    sword in His side.

    OK, I love my neighbor.

  66. Nimue says:

    Sorry (or not)

    At times, like last night
    I aploogize for saying some things;
    you smile and nod in agreement
    knowing well, I never am sorry,
    for voicing my thoughts
    of doubts on my abilities;
    but instead am sorry
    to not trust even your words
    as simple as “I love you”

  67. “Confession Booth”

    Father, forgive me, for I have sinned
    he began. The voice beyond echoed
    disappointment at each admission.
    Then the penance. Does the voice know
    he will never say his rosary?

  68. Sharon says:

    Yours and Mine

    He is so perfect,
    your son, so able to
    do things right,
    I’m sorry to say,
    while mine struggles
    with rejection and anger
    fear and pride,
    poor choices and
    the consequences
    of paint sniffing
    when he was young.

    I’m sorry he is not so
    perfect, like your boy,
    straight and true,
    grown into a man
    too good to hate
    but, forgive me,
    I resent him just the same.
    I yearn for your approval
    as does my imperfect
    struggling son
    who, thank God, makes it through
    despite us both
    and our unsupportive,
    judgmental ways.

  69. Michael Grove says:

    I’m Sorry and I’m Not

    I’m not sorry
    I cried over your spilt milk.
    I’m sorry
    that you spilt it in the first place.
    I’m not sorry
    I walked a mile in your shoes.
    I’m sorry
    that I wore them out for you.
    I’m not sorry
    I picked up the pieces of a broken heart.
    I’m sorry
    it had to break the way it did.
    I’m not sorry
    I never focused on the money.
    I’m sorry
    for those who do.
    I’m not sorry
    I couldn’t kick them out of the nest.
    I’m sorry
    I didn‘t teach them to fly sooner.
    I’m not sorry
    I didn’t burn any bridges.
    I’m sorry
    I didn’t build more of them.
    I’m not sorry
    for all that has been said and done.
    I’m sorry
    we didn’t see eye to eye.

    By Michael Grove

  70. Bryan says:

    I find nothing worth procreating about. No need for me to reseed.
    I am the last of a very few. Born once fresh, but never new.
    Born into a pitiful hole; screaming toothless, wet and cold.
    Growing and losing hair, along with my concerns and cares.
    Lips slip sounds so soft and round, that drip right off onto the ground.
    God doesn’t hear me, now why would you?
    You don’t have to fear me, but maybe you do…

  71. Jane Shlensky says:

    Almost Sorry

    When Daddy cut the rose buds
    she had coddled for weeks
    to state fair perfection,
    his broad hands covered
    with bright heads of bloom
    gently unfurling like simpering
    lips lined between his fingers,
    that gesture was meant to say
    I’m sorry to Mama, words
    he hadn’t learned to say.

    She gasped once and closed
    her eyes as if the wind
    had been knocked from her
    dreams, leaned against
    the kitchen sink until
    the dizziness passed,
    then dared to look at him,
    smiling, waiting with
    his almost apology,
    “My wife grows
    the most beautiful
    flowers in the world,”

    a statement to make amends
    for previous faults,
    as we children wondered
    what he could ever do to get
    past this current thoughtlessness.
    “Drop ‘em!” she said,
    exhaling, as he kissed her
    and left, never knowing.
    We watched her dreams shift
    and felt sorry on his behalf.
    She only shook her head and said,
    “Children get the big snifter.
    We’ll have to float ‘em.”

  72. Andrea B says:

    Think Before You Speak

    The interjections
    “Oh dear!”
    “Wowee!”
    “Get out of here!”
    are acceptable
    selections,

    but I reject
    “I’m sorry!”
    as an interjection
    if used with that inflection.

    A courteous
    interruption, like
    “Excuse me”
    or
    “I beg your pardon”
    is universal conversation,

    but wait until
    my point is poignant
    before you say,
    “I’m sorry.”

    “Uh . . .”
    “Er . . .”
    “Um . . .”
    are likely
    and suitably
    stammered
    or muttered.

    “I’m sorry . . .”
    never belongs
    under your
    breath.

    Think before you speak
    and I will accept your apology.

  73. Michael Grove says:

    Loitering

    Started strolling down this street about a year ago.
    Got hooked on prompted poeming in this place.
    Still hanging around here with all my homeys.
    Gonna write it down and shove it in your face.

    You might not be fond of rhyming couplets.
    Maybe rambling prose is more your style.
    Don’t mind me because I’m just here loitering.
    Still I hope to bring you all a smile.

    Well I might not belong here in the eyes of some.
    Aint got no MFA upon my wall.
    But, when I’m loitering here in my silence.
    I’m free to answer each and every call.

    So don’t mind me. I’ll cause no harm to you.
    Just skip on past me when you see my name.
    I’ll just loiter here in my irrelevance.
    I enjoy it. I’ll stay, if it’s all the same.

    Let me take a moment to apologize.
    Arrest me if you must now for this crime.
    Tried, convicted, sentenced for this loitering.
    I’ll go peacefully somewhere and do my time.

    By Michael Grove

  74. Jane Shlensky says:

    The Recitation

    Why do you look so glum? Smile!
    Sorry.
    You’re slouching again. Stand up straight and tall!
    Sorry.
    Did you forget to take out the garbage again?
    Sorry.
    Put that beer on a coaster for heaven’s sake.
    Sorry.
    You’re almost perfect, but tuck in your shirt.
    Sorry.
    Achh! Dragon breath! Take a hint, use a mint!
    Sorry.
    You never say you love me any more.
    Sorry.
    For goodness sake, stop saying you’re sorry.
    …Sorry…

  75. Arrvada says:

    Just Accept It
    By
    Arrvada

    I am not going to take it
    The looks, the accusations
    The demands I be more
    Than I can be
    I will not conform
    Be molded and shaped
    Like you see fit
    I am not your clay
    I am mine, to create
    To shape and sculpt
    To take my experiences and dreams
    And fashion who I will be
    I will not apologize for being me

  76. Arrvada says:

    I’m Sorry
    By
    Arrvada

    I’m sorry I couldn’t always be
    The person you dreamed of me
    I am sorry I fell short
    Of the expectations you had
    I am sorry that now
    Standing here and looking back
    I grew up to be something
    You had never wanted to be
    I am sorry
    I say this to the mirror
    Looking at me.

  77. APRIL APOLOGIES

    I’m sorry I walked out on the meeting –
    medley of deficits and tax-deductions,
    emerging markets in India, the bottom
    line – sorry I stuffed the stress into my
    briefcase; snapped it shut; walked out

    in the giddy green morning. Somehow
    I got lost in a meadow exploding with
    poppies, popcorn flower, bouquets
    of dainty toadstools, a litter of white
    petals under the arches of wild plum.

    I kept on walking until I found an old
    willow soaking his feet in the flow,
    recalling years of green-birth and fall.
    I sat down there beside him.
    Tell you the truth, I’m not sorry at all.

  78. Jane Shlensky says:

    Uncomforted

    Kidnapped, hoodwinked,
    torn from home and language,
    these women were placed
    in sexual servitude by the enemy,
    forced to follow the troops
    thousands of miles away
    to base camps in jungles
    in a life so debased that
    few survived or wished to.

    Raped and starved,
    savaged and thrown away,
    they would no longer
    harbor the old dreams
    of marriage, children,
    an honorable man, a
    decent life, accepted
    and revered by family,
    for they were now
    perpetually unclean.

    These comfort women
    stood together decades
    after the war to demand
    a nation’s apology,
    believing that saying
    I’m sorry is acknowledging
    wrong-doing, admitting
    shame, and asking for
    forgiveness. But where
    is the heart of government,
    where its hands and feet,
    where its conscience
    and its shame, where
    its voice? How does one
    forgive someone who
    will not acknowledge
    a policy of wrong-doing?

    After international trials,
    testimony of soldiers,
    officers, and the women
    themselves—daughters of
    Korea, China, Singapore,
    Malaysia, Borneo, even
    Japan—they succeeded
    in winning a monetary
    settlement, a pittance
    passed to governments
    by governments,
    and an official statement
    designed to lay the matter
    to rest, that in wars,
    sometimes unfortunate
    things happen, and
    no one is to blame.

    Documents were shredded;
    doors and files closed to
    these women who traveled
    from the shadows of their
    broken lives to hear
    this apology. United
    now in comfortlessness,
    they had gone in a word
    from being raped to being
    prostituted.

  79. cindishipley says:

    No Apologies

    I’m sorry
    I didn’t do it,
    but I promise
    I will next time.
    I tried but I just
    couldn’t find the time.
    How bad can it really be?
    Yikes, ok no more rationalizing.
    I promise
    I’ll never do it again.
    OOPS, I mean I promise
    I’ll do it next time.
    Oh ok, I am sorry that
    I am sorry.
    Look it’s not like I killed anyone.
    Tomorrow, I will
    pick up your dry cleaning ok?

    Cindi shipley

  80. ellanytdavve says:

    Hommage to The Beatles

    I’m so sorry,
    Oh so sorry
    For the way I didn’t
    Do you well.

    Please forgive me,
    Yes forgive me
    While I try to make
    It right

    Some times, though
    I create such woe
    It’s hard to keep
    Going on.

    Fairly sure you know
    How I feel
    Let me cozy up
    For an appeal,

    Please.

  81. Michael Grove says:

    I’m Not Superman

    I’m sorry I’m not Superman
    any more but if you would
    please pull the knife
    out of my back,
    I’d still take a bullet
    in the chest for you.

    By Michael Grove

  82. Michael Grove says:

    Cause and Effect

    If I could understand all of the reasons
    that caused things to turn out in this way,
    I’d go back to that dreadful place in time,
    and I’d relive that life changing day.

    If I knew the cause I’d say I’m sorry.
    I wonder if that would do any good.
    Seeing the effect it’s had on both of us,
    I’m sorry for not doing all I could.

    We can’t live a life that’s full of guilt.
    It would be so easy to place blame.
    There’s no sense feeling sorry for ourselves.
    The cruel finality is such a shame.

    By Michael Grove

  83. pearl says:

    Sorry, Not Sorry

    It could have been so different.
    In a different life, perhaps, on
    a different planet where love
    flourishes and never dies, where
    youthful indiscretions are merely
    a cause for pause and not
    unspoken regret harbored for life.

    It could have been so different, but
    if it had been different, a different life perhaps,
    then we would have lost now,
    and,
    I’m sorry,
    now is greater than anything then.

  84. I had to do an interview about George today… it put me in kind of a dark mood. So here’s today’s attempt:

    The Apology

    I’ve spent so long being angry for the goodbyes I’ve had to say.
    My friends, my mentor and my Pop, I miss them every day.
    Love comes with a price, one I’ve had to pay.
    I just wish, dear God, there was some other way.

    Through my pain, I’ve blamed you quietly inside.
    But I use a smile as my way to hide.
    I know that you hear all the words I’ve cried,
    Every time I think of my loved one who have died.

    I know that you can take it when I wake up mad.
    And you just hold me closer every time I’m sad.
    I am so sorry for these feelings that I’ve had.
    The love you show me makes my heart so glad.

    Thank you for picking me up every time I fall.
    Thank you for forgiving me for the big and for the small.
    Thank you for being there every time I call.
    And most of all thank you for loving me through it all.

  85. traci says:

    UNAPOLOGETIC
    Dew on Grass, Sun Rise
    Jacket on and off all day
    No “Sorry” Needed

  86. Day 3
    4-3-2012

    Write a poem of apologizing or not apologizing.

    No Apologies

    I’m not sorry
    we went rock-hopping and got caught in the rain
    driving back the winding road with chips of hail
    pelting the windshield
    while high young voices trilled pop songs
    and squealed with laughter
    from the rear seats.

    I’m not sorry the rain pelted the cabin’s metal roof
    and the thunder cracked and boomed
    while we colored Lisa Frank on the bed to the murmur
    of Disney and Nick
    while dads worked on computers or napped
    and then we all stared over the balcony at
    a rainbow arcing across the mountain into the valley
    below us, sure sign we spent the day rightly.

    I’m not sorry
    because love and beauty are too dear to miss.

  87. CMcGowan says:

    I’m sorry you didn’t try
    didn’t fly to the moon and back
    to reach the pinnacle stack
    of achievement
    That’s so far out of your grasp
    due to your lack,
    of effort.

    I’m sorry you didn’t reach
    the goals you felt beneath
    your almighty presence
    of being
    That now wear out your feet
    and break your back,
    in pieces.

    I’m sorry you didn’t listen
    like a newborn kitten
    that stares with wonder
    and awe
    pawing at curiosity
    such an atrocity,
    of nine lives.

    I’m sorry that your sorry
    not in terms of apologies,
    but in terms of never meant to be’s
    of a slacker
    A mid-life hacker, sacker
    bagging my goods,
    not misunderstood…

    Like you want to be.

  88. omavi says:

    “Out at First Base”

    You do really understand this was not
    Really all my fault, a little drunk
    On really a lot drunk and shouldn’t be held
    Responsible for the irresponsibility
    Of my sometimes randomly nonrandom thoughts
    I knew it would hurt you feelings
    I understand that things left unsaid
    Are best locked away in the black abyss
    Of silence, but my tongue the escape artist
    Was never used to being held down
    Must have really been the glare from
    The lights underneath the bar
    The tireless meat market chatter and patter
    Confusing me and causing me to see
    Something that may not have been really
    And a first date conversation it really was not
    I’m truly apologetic and profusely sympathetic
    But honestly
    That’s an ugly ass dress you have on …

  89. My unapologetic poem…

    Kiss my poetry

    Of all the ships in the sea,
    Censorship needs to be sunk.
    How dare you ban my poetry?
    Of all the ships in the sea,
    where free expression is history,
    suppression should walk the plank.
    Of all the ships in the sea,
    Censorship needs to be sunk.

  90. Linda Voit says:

    “Love means never having to say you’re sorry”

    Coated in haunting music
    and terminal pathos, offered
    in the dark with buttered popcorn,
    even poison seems like the right thing
    to swallow.

    Linda Voit

  91. Me gusta! That means I like it!

  92. Sara McNulty says:

    Never Wrong? (a triolet)

    He has trouble apologizing
    because he always thinks he is right.
    Though he does no proselytizing,
    he has trouble apologizing.
    I spend hours analyzing
    this quirk that he deems trite.
    He has trouble apologizing
    because he always thinks he is right.

  93. Golden Rule says:

    I Apologize

    Here we are just you and I
    I’m at a lost for words
    but I just want to say
    I apologize
    Because like the Prodigal I have strayed away.
    I took all of my inheritance
    and my selfishness would not allow me to share in any way.
    I apologize for the lies
    And the many times
    That I
    said “God if you get me through this I will serve you with my whole life.”
    I apologize for my lustful eyes
    That pierced through that young ladies thighs
    I apologize for the deceit
    And how it was me
    that hung you up on that tree.
    I’m just grateful that you forgive
    And on that tree you were willing to bear all sin.
    I hope you accept my apology
    And I want to thank you for that red Cross
    Because it was there where you showed your love for me.

  94. Marie Elena says:

    Wrote something kind of like this a while ago. Thanks for the re-inspiration, Mr. Gotera!

    WE’RE SORRY, BUT …

    Dear Wannabe Writer,

    Your story is truly compelling.
    You don’t have a problem with spelling.
    Your grammar is decent.
    Your subject is recent.
    You’re perfect at “showing, not telling.”

    Your staging just couldn’t be better.
    In a word, you’re the perfect vignette-er.
    We know you’ll succeed,
    But you don’t fit our need,
    So we’re sending this “Dear Loser” letter.

  95. I Apologize

    Time
    slipped through
    empty fingers
    clinging to
    the promises
    you used to make.
    Declaring this
    was the last
    time.
    You marched away
    with my innocence
    but hope
    spurred me
    on my path
    from you
    towards a
    time
    when all those
    apologies
    that would never
    ring true
    were replaced
    by the wholeness
    I found
    without you.

    I apologize.

  96. vincegotera says:

    I’d love to get a little feedback on this if anyone’s of a mind to do so. Is it too snarky? Or should I even care? Thanks.

    Signed, Poetry Editor

    Dear Poet: I know our stock rejection says
    We are sorry to have to return your submission,
    but we are limited by space in the review and

    must often turn away strong work. We wish you
    all the best in placing your writing elsewhere.

    but actually, I’m NOT sorry. Your poem sucked.

    There was just one flower species too many
    in the second stanza. Who do you think
    we are, the New Yorker? I mean, really.

    Also, you might want to consider never
    illustrating your poems with Hello Kitty
    skulls. Though the little band-aids are cute.

    And what’s with those words sussurus
    and pyewacket in line 12. Especially
    rhyming with thesaurus and can’t hack it.

    Let me tell you who can’t hack . . . whoa,
    whoa. I just remembered that at the Doomsday
    Quarterly Review
    we’re not supposed to critique.

    But how can I not? After all I’m here to serve.
    I hope you will grace DQR with more poems.
    We won’t put them up on the bulletin board

    and throw darts at them. We promise.
    We cross our hearts and hope to die.
    Don’t forget to sign your check. G’bye.

    by Vince Gotera

    Blog: The Man with the Blue Guitar

  97. ShreyIyengar says:

    This one looks back on a failed friendship with nothing but calm objectivity.

    In Retrospect

    The apology isn’t for:

    having imagined that generous subcutaneous fat,
    could merge with slight bone and sinew,
    and form a being, substantial at last,
    that hole could now be, whole.

    the asinine belief in the instant ever after,
    two minds tethered in brilliant askew,
    the reflected image of want, too vivid,
    the original impalpable, mired by the mirage.

    the indulgence that encouraged the craving,
    for a father figure, comrade of intellect,
    just stopping short of a carnal lover; a bright speck
    of protest on a solitary self-sufficient kismet.

    The apology is only for:

    the singular shortness of sight,
    of the heavy burden that was wantonly imposed,
    on a man-child, unsure, battling the brutes within,
    needy, yet, unlearned in the art of giving back.

  98. I apologize
    I didn’t mean for you to hear
    the words I uttered
    when you weren’t near.

  99. Genevieve Fitzgerald says:

    What
    Does
    It say
    Of us both
    That I think to apologize
    For being made
    To feel
    So
    Worthless

  100. As the last minutes of Day 3 tick away here, in Europe, I am posting and leave reading for the morning. I suppose this is an apology poem :-)

    ***

    My tired eyes

    have said it all

    Exhaustion’s grip has made me humble

    My eyes of languor

    and dreams of linger

    apologise for staying longer

    than time and patience

    for which we had,

    indeed, agreed.

  101. barbara_y says:

    The cat makes no apology.
    She wakes me with a foot pressed in my eye
    and sings her breakfast order
    like starvation’s deathbed aria.
    The cat makes no apology, but:
    while I’m sudsing for the day she makes–
    just barely out of sight
    due to the overhanging bedskirt–black hairballs
    for my warm, clean toes to find.
    The cat makes no apology, is in my chair
    before my knees are straight;
    is on my laid-out pressed white shirt
    before my hand’s a foot away.
    The cat makes no apology: she readies me
    for life outside the door.

  102. CaseyJay says:

    “The Burnishing”

    Soulful
    apology
    held jeweled forgiveness
    burned in the firing of my heart:
    golden.

  103. susan budig says:

    On Board Miss Teacup, Our Ketch

    It’s a sin to fight on a night like this–so starry
    out here off the coast of Jack Bay
    I want you to know, I am truly sorry
    In the dark of night, it’s the least I can say

    Out here off the coast of Jack Bay
    I didn’t hear you, I thought you said, “trim”
    In the dark of night, it’s the least I can say
    Or notice the rigging wrapped around your limb

    I didn’t hear you, I thought you said, “trim”
    I’m easily excited, I often pull too hard
    Or notice the rigging wrapped around your limb
    With a knife wound like that, I’m sure you’ll be scarred

    I’m easily excited, I often pull too hard
    I had no idea, a shark in the water?
    With a knife wound like that, I’m sure you’ll be scarred
    I deny with fervor, I didn’t cry, “Got ‘er!”

    I had no idea, a shark in the water?
    I’d fished you out, did you have to call your mother?
    I deny with fervor, I didn’t cry, “Got ‘er!”
    The accusations you made, I wish I could smother

    I’d fished you out, did you have to call your mother?
    It’s a sin to fight on a night like this–so starry
    The accusations you made, I wish I could smother
    I have you know, I am no longer sorry

  104. Dan Collins says:

    Sorry (A Septolet)

    Oh! Remorse,
    How like
    the iron black stove

    a rope-
    walker schleps
    between
    apologies.

  105. suzibee says:

    Hi Guys,

    Internet problems, so here’s all three to catch up to today. Haven’t participated in PAD for a long time. Good to see some familiar faces and good writing. Looking forward to all of the poems and friends on here.

    PAD #1

    AUNTIE

    You’re my aunt
    I’m your goddaughter
    20 years is too long
    to be out of touch

    “What the hell should I do with this?”

    Your reaction when you read my note
    Not asking for anything
    Not complaining
    Just saying hello

    After all these years…and yet…
    Some things just aren’t meant to be

    PAD #2

    VISITOR

    If I show up on your front step
    Would you open the door?
    If I only wanted a word with you
    And nothing more

    Would you spend just one hour
    At your dining table
    Just like we used to do
    Can we still connect
    Have we lost it all
    I don’t believe that’s true

    Or

    Would it be as though an itinerant salesman
    Or an un-catholic religious wag
    Had rung your bell to take up your time
    And you’d send me off baggage and bag?

    Would it make you feel better
    As you returned to your day
    And give you release from all strings?

    Or would you see me again as your own sister’s child
    And open your heart to what love brings

    #3 Two for Tuesday

    Apology

    Oh I’m so sorry!
    So sorry
    So, so, so so Sorry!
    I went away
    broke family bonds
    didn’t mourn properly,
    the passing of my alcholic mother -
    Your sister -
    Sided with my father
    Didn’t write; didn’t call
    I’m sorry
    But I’m older now
    And sorry

    I would like to mend the family bond
    Commiserate with the pain of your sister’s passing
    Remind you, my dad is dead
    And all I’m asking
    Is re-connection, forgiveness and
    To tell you that I’M SORRY!

    Unapology

    Here’s one for you
    Remain as stubborn as you like -
    I’m not sorry I left
    Not sorry I broke our bond

    I’m not sorry that I disturbed you
    by trying to reconnect
    by writing a newsy letter
    to say hello, how are you and the family?
    Here’s what I’m up to
    Hope all is well and you are all in good health

    Well, yes, I’m only sorry I wrote that letter
    And disturbed your nest of resentment and
    the judgment you still hold
    after all this time

    Enjoy the rest of your life
    Because I’m not sorry now.

  106. PSC in CT says:

    To NoAnyEveryOnly One

    Please accept (or don’t)
    this most timely (premature/belated)
    distinctly generic, comprehensive, pitiful (un-)apology:

    I’m (not) sorry for all those (some)times
    I have(n’t) listenedheard what you never did(n’t) say;
    nor for putting/speaking/shutting up when I should(n’t) have;
    likewise, that I could not be/do/become
    what you wanted/needed/expected of me,
    when all I ever owed no/any/every/only/some one (me)
    was to be who I only ever really was

  107. uneven steven says:

    This is just to say

    I have written
    the poem
    from your childhood
    icebox
    and which
    you were probably
    saving
    for just such
    an occasion
    forgive me
    it was so cool,
    yet obvious
    with just the right
    amount of
    snarky….

    too late i see lots of others:)

  108. Janet Rice Carnahan says:

    JUST CAN’T DO IT

    Why should I apologize?
    I didn’t plan it!
    I take to the skies,
    As Janet Planet!

    I just have to go,
    When the call comes in!
    It is all that I know!
    No way to begin!

    I put on the cape,
    And go where I must,
    It’s a fast escape,
    I have to zoom or bust!

    I can’t say I’m sorry or not!
    There’s really no thinking involved!
    I have to be speedy to not get caught!
    Otherwise, the case won’t be solved!

    I can’t back down now,
    It just wouldn’t be right!
    I simply wouldn’t know how,
    Besides my golden headband . . .

    Glows at night! :)

  109. KarenWalcott says:

    Sorry Mamman
    I am sorry, Mamman.
    You wanted me to sit
    For Monsieur Renoir. You wanted
    A formal portrait to hang in the
    Salon to impress your friends
    I wore a new dress: the lavender damask
    With the violet brooch and the pale green
    Silk sash. I pulled my long hair back, up and
    off my face they way you requested.
    I met Monseuir Renoir in Provence as you instructed.
    I obeyed his every word standing there in the hot sun
    For hours, letting him place his warm hands in the small
    Of my back and then his long fingers on my shoulders.
    I’m sorry Mamman, I didn’t know then that he would
    Pull me into a kiss. I didn’t know that one kiss would lead
    To so many other sweet—bittersweet–shameful things.

  110. Janet Rice Carnahan says:

    YOU NEVER DID

    Someone asked me once,
    If a simple apology from you would do.
    I told them, yes, I would really like that,
    Certainly it would help!
    Yet, time and time again,
    It was the opposite,
    Blame, more blame,
    Shame and guilt!
    Disapproval and anger,
    Then you died.

    Seeing you right after I heard,
    I cried and cried,
    In front of you,
    At the funeral home,
    Saying over and over,
    How sorry I was,
    I never pleased you,
    I wasn’t ever who you had in mind.

    Now years later, I realize,
    I don’t ever need to apologize to you again,
    I also don’t need you to ever say,
    You were sorry,
    You were wrong,
    You were mistaken,
    About me,
    Or us!

    All I need now,
    Is to forgive it all completely,
    And to be grateful,
    Not hateful,
    That we knew each other,
    We had a time together,
    I grew, learned, watched and followed.

    And in the end there is love,
    Always love,
    So, now I can honestly say,
    Deeply, dearly and sincerely . . .

    Thank you and rest in peace.

  111. Janet Rice Carnahan says:

    GOING FOR IT

    Didn’t you say to be strong?
    Stand up for what’s wrong,
    Be part of a team and belong?

    I heard you say,
    Go all the way,
    Keep negative thoughts at bay.

    I saw you be brave,
    Watched all you gave,
    Learned from you how to save!

    I felt you push and guide,
    You scolded me when I lied.
    You applauded me when I tried!

    So imagine my confusion,
    When I grew up in that infusion,
    Was caught in life with all its illusion,

    Feeling I could become myself and just be.
    Put old ideas up on the shelf and see,
    I was someone capable, driven and free!

    And that’s when you rejected me.

    Sorry, Mom . . . what was it I didn’t understand?

  112. JanetRuth says:

    No Apology Necessary…

    You will never apologize to me
    For taking my heart
    One small piece at a time

    Love expands hearts, I suppose
    Because no matter how many pieces you take
    There is always a little left

    And I know you will never apologize
    For the way you twist those remaining pieces
    Inside-out

    …but that’s okay
    If you never apologize to me
    I never apologized to my mother either

  113. Sally Jadlow says:

    Apology poem

    I’m so sorry I ran over your cat.
    I didn’t really mean to do that,
    but he WAS sleeping under my tire,
    and I failed to check there
    before I entered the car.

    I will miss his nightly serenades
    on my back fence
    at 2:00 a.m.
    and his daily dead-mouse dump
    on my front porch.

    Perhaps you will get a new cat,
    although, I hope it will not be soon.

  114. Plum Crazy

    William Carlos Williams
    was lucky he had a forgiving partner
    who was able to imagine
    the delicious, sweet
    and so cold plums
    and settle for flakes
    that probably weren’t so
    forgiving
    and quickly limped
    into a soggy mess.

    And even though
    his apology was so
    cleverly written that it is still
    read and reread
    long after iceboxes
    have turned into Frigidaire’s,

    I would have smacked him
    with a frozen leg of lamb.

    Forgive me,
    I am so cold.

  115. MiskMask says:

    Not Bothered

    I’m not bothered.
    I couldn’t care.
    Do as you wish.
    Chuck a cup, throw a dish.
    Have a strop, have a mood,
    tantums and throwing food.
    Enough of your silly stuff.
    Go ahead and have a huff.
    Starting now,
    so sorry,
    I’m going
    to forget
    to care.

  116. mlcastejon says:

    For the third day, a haiku:

    My only regret
    Let you play with my time
    But not anymore

  117. Sara McNulty says:

    April 3, 2012 – Write an apology/unapologetic poem

    The Olive and The Branch

    In my sorrow
    of those
    I may have hurt
    inadvertently,
    I offer an olive
    branch of peace

    unless

    you have hurt
    me purposely,
    with malice
    aforethought,
    then I pick the olives
    off, the tree and stab
    you with the branch.

  118. PassionateQuill says:

    apologies

    these three little words undo me
    they woo me
    they heal pain, and open
    tides that subdue me

    whether they’re owed me
    or given freely
    I melt whenever you say
    “I am sorry”

  119. Tracy Davidson says:

    Dear Jane

    I’m sorry I stole
    your husband away from you,
    for causing you pain,
    making life difficult,
    turning your ordered world
    upside down.

    If I had only known
    what an arrogant,
    vain, bad-tempered,
    whiney old so-and-so he was
    I wouldn’t have bothered.

    I don’t suppose
    you want him back?

    (I hasten to add this is NOT autobiographical!)

  120. Maria Phoenix says:

    A ZOMBIE’S LAMENT
    I ate your brains
    The tastiest part
    a delicacy
    And for you pains
    I left your heart
    For necromancy
    You could have joined us
    It is good fun
    You had excellent teeth
    You didn’t much fuss
    We had a good run
    You had good aim
    With that rifle of yours
    But didn’t know where to shoot
    nor how to maim
    One of our kind
    Next time
    Go for the head
    Then
    Just like you
    I would be dead

  121. Michelle Hed says:

    Please Accept This Gift

    Sometimes the apology sounds hollow
    even to your own ears
    and so you feel the need
    to go above and beyond
    that verbal apology
    and offer your time,
    perform some little task,
    perhaps buy their favorite treat,
    make their favorite dinner,
    or do the unexpected,
    all the while hoping
    they know you’re an idiot
    and the love you enough
    to forgive you anyway.

  122. Mark Windham says:

    Foolish Pride

    Reasons were not
    important,
    nor altogether
    relevant.
    Excuses had
    become
    a waste of
    time,
    even love was
    had become less
    of a consideration.
    Now,
    only forgiveness
    mattered,
    and that was
    impossible without
    remorse.

    • Mark Windham says:

      Ok, so that is ‘write, revise, review, THEN post. Hate when i am in a hurry.

      Reasons were not
      important,
      nor altogether
      relevant.
      Excuses were
      a waste of
      time,
      even love had
      become less
      of a consideration.
      Now,
      only forgiveness
      mattered,
      which was
      impossible without
      remorse.

  123. Michelle Hed says:

    The Tick or the Worrisome Bite of a Bloodsucking Insect

    Five hours of labor
    in the backyard
    cleaning up Spring’s droppings
    leaves me dirt bespectacled
    with crawling skin.

    Stripping down
    a wee vampire
    latched on to my ankle
    immediately removed
    and unapologetically
    wrapped in tape
    to smother and die.

    Two days later
    a target
    swollen, hot and itching –
    I feel no remorse
    as I ring the doc.

  124. I Said I Was Sorry

    but, instead of hearing me -
    instead of realizing that I, too
    am an imperfect being,
    you sulked, like a child
    that had just been scolded.

    Don’t Say You Are Sorry

    you don’t mean it -
    it has become a rote response
    which means – Whatever! -
    Whatever, as long as I do
    it your way –
    Whatever, as long as I feel
    bad, not you.

  125. Karen31 says:

    Unapologetic Cur
    (for Kodi, with love)

    Hershey’s Kisses on the coffee table
    wrapped in Christmas green and red.
    Hershey’s Kisses on the coffee table -
    they went straight to your head.
    According to the news reports,
    you really should be dead!

    Thirteen years and you had never
    stolen chocolate before.
    Thirteen years and you had stolen only
    human kisses by the score –
    and human kisses, you can count on,
    we’ll always give you more.

    An hour in the cold backyard
    while we watched with worry;
    an hour in the cold backyard -
    you had no sense of hurry;
    and when everything came out all right (!)
    you didn’t even look sorry!

  126. Hannah says:

    When all I want is to soar among clouds,
    White with purity of thought and intent,
    Moist with possibility, light as a feather’s touch?

    This is so beautiful, ethereal, Clauds. Great poem!

  127. MichelleLynnGuerra says:

    I am Sorry

    I am sorry that you can not be real with yourself.

    I am sorry that you trust no one.

    I am sorry that you feel that you can never let anyone else in.

    Isn’t lonely?

    Why can you not share all the great things that are inside of you?

    I am sorry that you feel that “you” is all that you can count on.

    I am sorry that life has to be this way.

    I am not sorry

    I am not sorry that I feel the way that I do.

    I am not sorry that I can be honest with myself.

    I am not sorry for what I have said.

    I have no regrets.

    Have I came to my realizations?

    Am not sorry for what I have done?

    I am not sorry because being sorry will not change anything.

    I am not sorry.

    MichelleLynnGuerra.com

  128. Unapologetic

    I have nothing to apologize for.
    I’m not the one who started this war.
    I won’t be the one to accept the blame.
    You turned love into a sadistic game

    And left it bleeding on the floor.
    I have nothing to apologize for,
    Only regrets that I stayed too long,
    Made decisions that I know were wrong.

    I know I’ve paid an enormous cost.
    I may never recover all I‘ve lost,
    But I have nothing to apologize for.
    So call me a bitch. Call me a whore.

    The lies you spew shatter like glass,
    Empty words that hold no mass.
    I won’t be your victim anymore.
    I have nothing to apologize for.

  129. claudsy says:

    Eavesdropping

    A quick glance told the story.
    She with fists balled,
    He with hands raised in supplication.

    Fear, rage, and confusion ruled her,
    While he tried to explain that which
    Filled her with hurt, a sense of betrayal.

    She could only react, not hear words.
    Hissed argument oozed from the room,
    Barely above the whispers of those nearby.

    Murmurs rippled from within, telling of joys
    Gone, trust broken, futures destroyed.
    No apology from him could be adequate now.

    No apology will be accepted by her battered heart.
    Another love story comes to an end, an eavesdropping
    Interlude for those knowing all sides of the triangle.

  130. Natalija says:

    I NEVER DID

    My apologies to you if you misunderstood
    those two little words meant “I would”
    to have you and hold you ‘til death us do part
    to cherish and love you with all of my heart

    My apologies to you if you mistook my smile
    to mean I would stay longer than awhile
    for better, for worse, in good, and in bad
    in sickness, in health, and times when you’re sad

    You should have questioned those calls each night
    instead of attempting to avoid a fight
    you should have seen that “meeting” meant “date”
    and wondered why I always came home late

    Your ignorance and bliss were your blunder
    as you never once stopped to wonder
    when always as you had something to say
    I would tell you to save it for another day

    That day has come as you stand at the door
    and hear me tell you I love you no more
    your blue eyes grow wild in disbelief
    as you take off for an hour to confront your grief

    The day before we were planning our future
    now you’re left with an open suture
    a promise of truth, love and admiration
    now shattered and torn, a disintegration

    My apologies to you if you misunderstood
    those two little words of “I do”
    as promises were broken and secrets I hid
    I no longer love you…and I never did.

  131. claudsy says:

    “Sorry Doesn’t Cut It Anymore”

    Why do words of encouragement
    Ring hollow, without bringing hope,
    Without helping to find solutions?
    How can you keep holding me down,
    When all I want is to soar among clouds,
    White with purity of thought and intent,
    Moist with possibility, light as a feather’s touch?
    Where can I go to be rid of you, to not ever see you,
    Waving at me again each time I window shop,
    Each time I brush my teeth or comb my hair?
    Why have I believed the excuses all these years,
    Never expecting any better treatment from you,
    When I expect even less from she who lives within me?
    The time for “Sorry” is gone.
    Today, I am ridding myself of your excuses.
    Today, I am beginning my future without you.
    I will not apologize for removing you from my life.
    Today, Proboscis, you will leave my sight forever,
    And I’ll not ever feel sorry about that!

  132. DanielAri says:

    NONE NEEDED

    and in that year of the impending foreclosure
    and adolescent daughter, do you remember,
    Alice, how the fridge always seemed near bear?
    Your hours got cut, and the roof needed repairs.
    Then in that time, your barbaric cat got under
    the house, not for the first time, and it refused
    coaxing, silence, sardines, catnip and squeaker
    toys. I was coming back from the courthouse
    when your daughter made dramatic exit to stay
    with her friend, and that cat (which I confess
    I never liked) vagabonded backyard to playlot
    with you following into each one, banging shins
    on old tires and jungle gyms, climbing and falling
    from Japanese plum trees, and by turns cooing
    and cursing like a marine until surrendering all
    hope. At home I spic-and-spanned the kitchen,
    cleaned your daughter’s room, tidied, warmed
    the house to catch you on your return, which
    I knew would be troubled. You came in with
    armloads of spoiled-spaghetti despair and you
    lashed out at some small thing I’d done or failed
    to do; but I had a blessed little pixie, a dust devil
    of forbearance that did not fail me. I wish I could
    say it was always here, but at least then, that time
    I caught you up, bathed you, gave you chamomile
    and tucked you in. And, Alice, there is no apology
    owed or owing except I’d love to hear your cat,
    who, of course, came home in its own time,
    meow some mea culpa for the batch of crap
    it put us through when we least needed it.

    FangO

  133. JanetRuth says:

    I’m sorry about all the ‘so’s above…shoulda proof-read then hit enter:)

  134. JanetRuth says:

    I’m sorry All,
    But it seems my lunch break is over
    and duty calls
    though I would so love to tell
    each of you personally
    why I so loved
    your apologies
    (or your none apologies.)
    I’m sorry I cannot,
    but just so you know
    I did really
    enjoy them so!

  135. ely the eel says:

    MYAPOLOGIESFORPOSTINGTHEWRONGCUT&PASTEEARLIER

    So sorry, really I am,
    Oops, I didn’t mean to do that
    Pardon me, I didn’t see you.
    Let me explain what I meant.
    Excuse me, please.
    My regrets, I didn’t know.
    I’m blushing from embarrassment.
    Mea culpa.

    Yeah, sure, you’re so polite, but
    It’s all just a cop-out,
    mere pretense,
    simply rationalizing,
    a pale confession,
    a weak alibi.
    What a whitewash.

    No, honestly,
    it’s a complete acknowledgement,
    atonement if you will.

    Yeah, honestly,
    talk is cheap

  136. Bruce Niedt says:

    My dual-prompted poem for today:
    (NaPoWriMo prompt: write an epithalamium – a poem to a bride or about a wedding).

    A Day in July

    I won’t apologize for the weather,
    one of the hottest days of the summer.
    I won’t apologize for the venue either,
    a little chapel on campus, not some
    cavernous cathedral. I won’t apologize
    for our shoestring budget – the lack of a limo,
    how we went to the reception in her dad’s
    old Pontiac, with her friend from next door
    as chauffeur. I have no regrets for the music
    I stayed up all night to tape, despite a lack
    of tunes you could dance to. I’m not sorry
    for the snafus – forgetting the marriage license,
    her reciting my vows in her nervousness.
    I won’t even make excuses for the fact that
    my fly was open through half of the reception.
    All I know is the ends justify the means,
    and looking back from a perspective
    of thirty-eight years, the day couldn’t
    have been more perfect.

  137. dextrousdigits says:

    I’m sorry the me I see,
    You see not.

    You see from outside,
    but I inside reside.

  138. RobHalpin says:

    The Truth Hurts

    I’m not proud that I
    made you cry,
    but I’m not sorry

  139. lionmother says:

    Wall of sorrys

    After so many years the sorrys flow like a wall of water
    too many and too few to fill the gaps of our days
    We were inevitable, the force between us unbroken
    and we moved ahead like logs in the river no boundaries
    for our boundless love
    knowing always the shelter of your strong arms
    the pleasure of our shared moments
    and it’s not my fault you turned away
    my company no longer enough for your
    selfish pursuits and I nurtured the seed of our
    love watering it with my tears hoping it would
    grow and flourish and become supple as it once was
    yet your loveless glances continue and we bump
    around in this alien world like boarders
    only occasionally do I see the peek of light
    in your eyes and I am sorry to see it for it
    reminds me of the laser beams I used to know.

  140. Marie Elena says:

    Favoritism (a dodoitsu)

    Some I hold in great esteem –
    And just enjoy more. For that,
    I’m unapologetic.
    (Sorry about that).

    ;)

  141. Domino says:

    Words

    I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean–
    Please forgive me, don’t cause a scene
    Let me explain just what I meant
    Don’t get your feathers mussed and bent

    It wasn’t supposed to be a slur
    I’ll beg forgiveness if you prefer
    I only meant to say I thought–
    that is to say, I took a shot–

    Not that kind of shot, though, see
    I don’t think that you’re hearing me
    All I wanted to say, it’s true
    is that I think that I love you.

    I’m Not Sorry

    I’ll say what I want
    and what I need
    with no apologies.

    Why apologize for
    who
    I
    am?

    And though I can bend
    and comp
    ro
    mise
    at times

    don’t think
    for
    a
    minute
    that it
    makes
    me
    weak.

  142. PKP says:

    to my almost baby …..

    You might have been
    a gentle wind-mill baby
    catching each fluttered
    filament of flowered fantasy
    in your special world of ever
    loving-kindness
    or not 
    you might have been breath
    in flesh staring feeling
    only pain 
    they could not tell me which
    and I too hope deprived to
    wait for tulips and windmills
    too in love with the possibility
    of you to grow you to imprisoned
    forever- pain….. chose
    a forever apology

    **********

    I saw you grainy and beginning real
    began to believe in you in the
    bump of belly
    my rubied blood boasted
    all is well
    your few surrendered cells
    stated clearly nothing was 
    I did not wait for you to
    fade and end before first breath
    I let you start again
    somewhere else 
    with tears of love
    and belief in
    new beginnings

  143. RJ Clarken says:

    iApp-ologize

    My iPhone? Yeah, I think it’s great.
    For music, texting…no debate.
    And don’t forget those Angry Birds.
    App-ology! Those magic words!

    Sudoku, Words With Friends, and more,
    like Instagram. The iTunes Store
    has all the stuff for gamer nerds.
    App-ology! Those magic words!

    My calendar and shopping list
    are just a few apps I enlist
    to organize my life by thirds.
    App-ology! Those magic words!

    Oh look! A brand new Facebook meme.
    Boot up the app. A common theme.
    Safari? I am in your herds!
    App-ology! Those magic words!

    ###

  144. Anders Bylund says:

    I’d Do It Again
    ==========
    I did what I did and I’d do it again
    I did what I had to; there’s naught to amend
    Between bad and worse, this is best in the end
    I did what I did ’cause I had to, my friend.

  145. Vipākaphala
    (shadorma)

    I don’t know
    how I’ve offended:
    waking once
    more alone,
    I can’t help seeing the grey
    peeking through the world.

    I’d take back
    whatever I’ve done
    if I thought
    things could change:
    Penelope, use my fate
    for your tapestry.

    I still fall
    for smoke and mirrors:
    walking out,
    doing tricks,
    unsure why I’m sorry, and
    so easily led.

    Opening the Sun
    (terza rima)

    The Serpent is netted with pale butter blooms,
    twining the branches. We burn the bitter leaves:
    their incense fills a Garden of many rooms.

    What a pair of Adams without any Eves,
    liberally tasting, and proud in our naming.
    (We slide the dreaming bolts from their silver sleeves.)

    Crosslegged on the green carpet, proclaiming
    Words and Songs for the tea-drunk tricks of vision:
    there’s to be no reluctance here. No shaming.

    The Serpent drops purple fruit with precision.
    Here are the Ten Thousand Things we agreed on:
    arranged without Judgment, free of derision.

    Here’s our one mind unenclosed with a bead drawn,
    ready to rocket upward. No more regret
    when it bursts the rainswept Eye that will bleed dawn.

    We will let ourselves go floral, warm and wet
    and always touching. Swallow the same soft Bread,
    wash off History, let the whole world reset.

    The Serpent coils up when we return to bed.
    Mission fulfilled, the come-down silent as tombs,
    kiss me long for Love, barefaced, on my tired head.

  146. De Jackson says:

    Leftovers

    How do they taste?
    These three wee words
    you will not say, sitting
    stale on your torrid tongue,
    lost in the long-held breaths of angry
    lung, do they sting when you
    swallow? I would think
    by now they might
    be so spoiled, so foul,
    whipped in with the protesting
    bile of your stomach, some pancreatic
    cocktail shaken, stirred, to make
    a fine stew. I shall bring you a spoon
    next time I think of you.

    Apologies for
    the wait; I’m
    kinda busy.

  147. Apology Song

    I’m sorry I ate so late last night
    I’m sorry I let my alarm wake her up
    I’m sorry I didn’t l kiss her goodbye

    I’m sorry I didn’t leave five minutes sooner
    I’m sorry I let this fool ahead of me on the onramp
    I’m sorry I need soy milk in this coffee

    I’m sorry I forgot to get that signature
    I’m sorry I couldn’t take your call
    I’m sorry I can’t keep you, it’s the budget

    I’m sorry I ate so much at lunch
    I’m sorry I dinged that car next to me
    I’m sorry I can’t stay awake for your after-lunch meeting

    I’m sorry I will get to it before I leave
    I’m sorry I will make it up to you
    I’m sorry I thought what’s-his-name has doing it

    I’m sorry I forgot to fill up my tank at lunch
    I’m sorry I said I’d pick him up on the way home
    I’m sorry I kept you waiting

    I’m sorry I am late for dinner
    I’m sorry I got spaghetti sauce on my good tie
    I’m sorry I don’t know if your teacher is right, honey

    I’m sorry I just need some quiet time
    I’m sorry I had that second helping of dessert
    I’m sorry I forgot to call the insurance office

    I’m sorry I’ll check to see if the alarm is set
    I’m sorry I can see you’re not in the mood
    I’m sorry I didn’t do so well today, Lord

    but if you give me another one tomorrow,
    I’ll try to do better.

  148. “Almost an apology”

    I know you didn’t dream of scrapping and scrapping
    and smoking out rolled dollars for a living in your
    roasted yellow-stringed boots. You are no one’s savior,
    no one’s Batman, but you stood tall as a sobbing rotting
    grew around your core, the rotting I watered with my
    bare-knuckled girlie tongue until moss grew up your
    brass sweatshirts—

    a shame I drink daily
    as we sit at our tilting table,
    me waving a paper flag,
    you sipping on my pride.

  149. dextrousdigits says:

    Sorry
    NO WAY
    LISTEN just once
    YOU did it again
    YOU turned my words around
    HURLED words and accusations at me
    NO looking at your behavior
    NO regard for others
    NO quilt or regret
    ONLY success matters
    EGO centered
    WRETCHED

  150. Mystical-Poet says:

    Pinocchio Tears

    I wish she’d get her own clothes and stop wearing mine
    leaving footprints on my heart all of the time
    I’m just a marionette in her Pinocchio parody
    strung up playing the fool she likes me to be
    Now I’m supposed to say I’m sorry
    because she’s got me on a string
    flayed and bleeding in the gutter
    and it doesn’t mean a thing?
    Please pull that golden thread and let me unwind
    need to find some new love won’t treat me unkind
    her love’s a lustful comet blazing through the stars
    but the way she makes me feel I’d rather be on Mars
    I guess I’m just a yo-yo as she winds me up again
    squeezes my heart one more time to make me say when
    Well truly I am sorrier than words could ever tell
    Pinocchio tears a flowing under puppet master’s spell

    ~ Randy Bell ~

    http://cloudfactor5.wordpress.com/2012/04/03/pinocchio-tears-pad-challenge-day-3/

  151. ina says:

    Crows

    If I could apologize for all
    the wrong I’ve done, to
    all the people I’ve heard,
    my gossiping tongue, the
    malicious thoughts, the
    bitching and moaning, the
    mornings where I left the warm
    dark bed without leaving
    a number, a real name, if I had
    enough time left to speak
    all the apologies into being
    they would fly like a murder
    of crows from the branches
    of a fall-dead tree from my
    mouth, swirling like a charred
    wind going ever higher,
    never resting
    black dots destroying a
    clear blue sky.

  152. ely the eel says:

    So sorry, really I am,
    Oops
    Pardon me
    Let me explain
    Excuse me, please
    My regrets
    I’m Blushing
    Mea culpa

    Yeah, sure, nice and polite,
    Just a cop-out
    Mere pretense
    Simply rationalizing
    Pale confession
    What a whitewash
    A weak alibi

    Honestly, completely,
    Acknowledgement
    Atonement

    Talk is cheap

  153. Being a Brick about things.

    I’m sorry I’m so beautiful
    it’s really such a pain
    to hold the sunshine in my smile
    to be the rainbow after rain.

    I’m sorry I make your husband horny
    it’s outside my control
    I can’t help that my flowing locks of gold
    entwine his lustful soul.

    I’m sorry I make you so jealous
    because I’m unfeasibly pretty
    and all you have to struggle on with
    is being clever and witty.

    I’m sorry I cannot help
    I attract men without fail
    but most of all I’m sorry I wrote
    that piece for the Daily Mail.

    by banana_the_poet aka Michele Brenton

    For the background on this poem – here is the article which inspired it: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2124246/Samantha-Brick-downsides-looking-pretty-Why-women-hate-beautiful.html

  154. De Jackson says:

    Apollo, Gee.

    Ye, who heralds the muse choir,
    where are you when I need you? Off after some torrid love
    affair or other, perhaps. Wooed by nymphs, slaying serpents,
    or lost, tossed somewhere in the center of the Aegean Sea.
    You sneaky, sacred, filthy lyre, please, don your laurel crown,
    hunker down, and play something, coax my mermaid muse
    onto this dry land. Or shall I send Artemis to hunt her down,
    instead?

    I’m sorry to bother you, really.
    Please don’t make me call your dad.

    For the curious:
    http://gogreece.about.com/cs/mythology/a/mythapollo.htm

  155. Charles Cote says:

    I AM NOT

    What you need to understand, and this
    is the god’s honest truth, I swear,
    really, I mean it, if you’d only just listen
    this one time, like I said, please,
    let me finish, what I’m trying to say,
    you know, it’s like this, now hear me
    out on this one, I wouldn’t lie to you,
    trust me on this one, I kid you not,
    what I’m really trying to say, and it’s
    absolutely the truth, I am not at all
    sorry for what I said to you last night.

  156. Like Eeyore

    I’m sorry I get in the way.
    I’m sorry I do things wrong.
    I’m sorry for social faux pas.
    I’m so sorry for this, that
    and the other thing,
    I have become invisible.
    Please, don’t sit on me.
    I have the same right
    to take up space
    and breathe air as you do.
    I’m sorry for being sorry.

  157. JanetRuth says:

    My Apologies to you, Dear Sir

    I’m sorry, dearest sir
    but you seem quite unaware
    of the rippling stir
    in the atmosphere?
    or are you oblivious
    to my sudden attraction
    and kind sir, may I offer
    an explanation?

    My dear sir, I’m sorry
    but it is not your hair
    though it is quite attractive, I agree
    and the thing that is causing my open-mouth stare
    is not your fine physicality
    Your eyes are a striking and breath-taking blue
    and I’ll admit your face is quite handsome too
    Your jeans, I am sure are a quality brand
    but today I am drawn to that thing in your hand
    and the scent that startled me as you strode by
    rousing a wild, dangerous insanity
    so unless you care to finish what you have begun
    I suggest you hang on to your coffee and run!

  158. Marianv says:

    Worshipping at the Shrine
    Of Mean Spirits

    The last time I saw you
    You were lounging in the doorway
    Of the drugstore, you and your so cool
    Buddies smoking your cigarettes.
    I heard you laugh, your laughter was
    Always louder than any one else.

    You enjoyed making fun of people,
    Especially the old who weren’t sure
    If this was the right place to get
    Their medicine and you would
    Give them wrong directions,
    Sending them someplace else,

    I have to admit that once, I, too
    Thought that was fun, worshipped
    At your altar, wanted to do mean
    Things so you would notice me
    And be impressed.

    I finally learned.
    You are not funny.
    You are mean and hurtful
    If I could recognize any of
    Those people I was mean to –
    I would like to say I am sorry.

  159. Dare says:

    Did You Know?

    I’m so sorry.

    I was scared.
    I was sad.
    I was tired.

    I was sick…sick of the
    Monster I had become.

    Did you know?

    Could we go back…
    Back to Before…
    Before I changed?

    Could we go forward…
    Forward to Beyond…
    Beyond life Now?

    I’m so sick
    I’m so tired
    I’m so sad

    I’m so scared

    I have no right to ask…
    Is it possible that you can forgive?

    Do you love me?

  160. Sorry / Not Sorry

    I got your special soil.
    The instructions on the bag
    said use gloves, don’t breathe in.
    But if that was what you needed….

    I draped long strands of coloured beads
    around your pots, one each,
    set crystals on top of the earth
    and bright statuettes nearby.

    I conversed with you,
    tended you with Reiki,
    gave you both water and wine.
    It wasn’t my fault.

    I even brought you inside at night
    to keep you safe from nibbling gekkos.
    When I stopped, for the dirt on the floor,
    I used magick instead. Not one bite!

    But after a certain point
    you not only failed to thrive,
    you developed wet black marks
    up your sides, a kind of rot.

    So I took action. Now your carcases
    lie in my cast iron cauldron
    waiting to be ceremonially burned.
    I’ll accord you that respect.

    Was it because I never
    took things one step further?
    Did you crave intimacy,
    that ultimate merging of selves?

    Yes, I know your sacred purpose,
    but I’m sorry, I don’t do that.
    I’m such an addict! Therefore
    restraint is my middle name.

    I’m sorry you sickened
    but I didn’t do it. Tomorrow
    we shall have the burning time.
    I won’t be sorry to finally get it done.

  161. Earl Parsons says:

    For Love

    I’m sorry that I may have been a little hard on you
    Not letting you get away with so much
    Like the things most of your friends got away with
    Making you do your homework and chores
    And checking on you when you busted curfew
    Something you did, surprisingly, very few times

    I apologize for not letting you wear halter tops
    Short skirts and revealing blouses
    When you dated the boys with hidden intentions
    Planning to get into forbidden territory
    As they shook my hand and smiled
    Lying about what time they would have you home

    Forgive me for the heated verbal battles we had
    When you tested the limits and my resolve
    You didn’t understand where I was coming from
    Because all you could see was what you wanted
    And what you wanted was youthful selfishness
    Though you didn’t realize it at the time

    Yes, I may have been strict
    I may have been protective
    And I may have stood my ground
    But just look at you now
    As I walk you down the aisle
    To give you away to a man
    That you proudly declared
    Was just like your daddy

  162. Marjory Thompson says:

    How does one say their sorry
    for the things they’ve said and done
    when the burden is hard to bear
    and the grief is too great to share?

  163. FORGIVENESS SOUGHT IN THE SPLAYING OF WORDS (Alouette)

    I’ve hurt you badly
    and it is sadly
    that I return, hat in hand.
    For I once told you
    I’ll always hold you,
    I thought you would understand.

    But all through this time
    these heart rendered rhymes
    that fought to placate my soul,
    would give me solace
    without your malice,
    in the end you had control.

    I’m feeling this guilt,
    bravado will wilt
    and I’ll lose the words to say,
    of how I’m thinking,
    I feel this sinking,
    it won’t matter anyway.

    I love you, it’s true,
    and it is through you
    that I find the strength to go on.
    So if you forgive,
    I’m sure I will have
    you in my heart from now on.

    I offer these words
    that I’m sure you’ve heard
    a few hundred times before,
    And if you believe
    I never will leave,
    I’ll be your white night once more.

    These words seem so hard
    and you hold the cards,
    so close to your vest I’ll stay.
    Forgiveness is key,
    so give it to me
    and I’ll feel your love each day.

    I’m sorry!

  164. Margot Suydam says:

    Amen(d)?

    Arms extended, a bending
    at the waist, I do not slink

    to my knees before whispers
    yet the earth still crackles

    with misdeeds that haunt
    grab at my ankles and pull

    She could still be my sister
    a girl at the beach swishing

    her hips, sand sinking toes
    damsel who once twisted

    her long hair into pig tales
    then snipped off her braids

    to sell for the pinstripe
    well-suited for finance

    and high-fashion arenas
    where sways and swoons

    fed and filled her hungry
    never enough for the day

    grasping at ancient lockets
    that could never be glasped

    roughest of gems discarded
    I’d never let you fit in.

  165. mschied says:

    Regrets

    For sleepless nights
    and tearstreaked face
    bewildered prayers
    and good intentions
    that continually backfired
    against the brick wall
    of the child’s heart you
    so desperately wanted to reach
    the anguished face
    you turned to him
    wondering where it all
    went wrong
    what kind of parent
    you were for not being
    there for her
    in her life of pain
    and suffering

    I’m sorry

  166. Ber says:

    I am not to Blame

    Why should I feel bad for the trouble you had
    You brought this on the people
    You made this bad feeling sad
    Now we have to pay for your negligence
    It is at our cost at our expense

    You have the people on their knees
    Waiting for help from overseas
    Bailouts and bond holders
    We have heard the lot
    Where is the money gone from the honey pot

    New tax’s introduced that no one can pay
    Protest and rally’s organised right away
    The people stand up for what they believe
    Not stand by those who did deceive

    Take from your own
    When people are on the dole on the floor
    They have lost their homes and income
    There are no jobs there any more

    Why should I apologise for something that was beyond me
    Why should the people have to say sorry?
    It was none of their doing
    They were just trying to get by
    They now have to bare the brunt of the Celtic tigers eye

    So review your budget now
    See what must come next
    But while your cosy in your bed
    Don’t forget this is a lot more complex
    Talk to the people include them in your plans
    Stop throwing away peoples income
    Into empty frying pans

  167. mschied says:

    Dearest Human

    I hope you enjoyed
    that puddle on the floor
    Your timely walk
    around the block
    avoided something more

    I hope you loved the
    way I went and
    slobbered up your shoes
    If you would get
    some squeaky toys
    I wouldn’t have to choose

    to turn your nice clean
    laundry pile into a nice warm bed
    I’d much prefer an overstuffed and
    fleecy-lined PETCO brand instead

    And as for the barking, well
    what can I say
    It’s how I keep my vocal cords
    in shape day after day

    Consider now how you once thought
    my presence a great surprise
    my big brown eyes and cuddly heart
    means I’ve no need to apologize

  168. BEFORE THE CALIBRÍES

    Before the calibríes of Costa Rica,
    before the shining rainbow wings
    of shimmering angels danced
    in midair before me—
    there was darkness,
    and I was sitting in it.

    Darkness had become my only companion.

    Then in the voice of a beautiful woman,
    then in the sound of an African song,
    as her words and the drumbeats
    flowed together—
    there was light,
    and I was illuminated by it.

    For you are light, and there is no darkness in you.

    Years ago, he gave the flowers
    he gathered for me to another;
    years ago, there was pain,
    but in the Presence I heard an answer—
    I will give you a flower
    that will never fade.

    Consider the lilies of the field.

    I saw him! I saw the man!
    I was holding a shining rose of light in my hand,
    and I pressed it into his chest,
    into his heart—
    and my forgiveness
    healed us forever.

    Then my eyes were opened.

    In the next moment, the birds,
    like the flowers of heaven made visible,
    kissed my face with their wings,
    in the next moment—
    my tears, reflecting their glory,
    were transformed into pinpoints of light

    full of joy.

    Jane Beal

  169. pmwanken says:

    an UNAPOLOGETIC shadorma

    I wonder
    If you think of me
    and regret
    what you took
    unapologetically
    many years ago

    2012-04-03
    P. Wanken

  170. Catslen1 says:

    I’m sorry
    he didn’t behave
    the way you expected
    he should. He is only a
    child, still learning the ways
    of the world. It was wrong
    for you to shout at him, for
    it is the job of a parent,
    NOT a stranger, to
    discipline.

  171. zevd2001 says:

    IF YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND
    I like to catch things before
    they fall, to throw a stick, reach out
    just as it hits the floor. I’m a juggler

    that slips and slides. Rising to the occasion
    in a fell swoop, standing to take a bow. It’s easy
    for me. I spoke out of turn. That, too . . .
    it’s a bad habit. Don’t be offended

    the smile on my face is my way
    of blushing. When I heard
    how everyone was talking, it was
    me that was to blame, as I sat back. It was

    so amusing, the momentary laughter
    put me off balance. When you ran home
    I wanted to join you, but
    you would have done the same thing, no . . .

    I didn’t realize. How could I. I don’t know
    you, that well. How could anyone imagine
    what I said, could get that far. So
    you don’t want me
    to go to the hospital. Tell her

    it’s on account of my tall tale. Maybe
    she will forgive me, forgive you . . . I understand
    if you don’t talk
    to me anymore

    Zev Davis.

  172. Dear Moosehead,
    You are officially an idiot.
    When you said you’d get the tickets
    for the Mets game, I assumed you
    meant at home! Which made no
    sense as we have season tickets!
    So, yes, I guess I’m an idiot too.
    Nonetheless, you owe me an apology!
    Not only do I have to put with all the
    women in your family, you are actually
    forcing me into the den of the enemy!
    You are buying double the beer and dogs,
    so bring plenty of cash. Pick ya up at 1,
    game is at 2. Dumbass!

    Yours unapologetically loyal,
    Ringo the Howler

  173. lady maggie says:

    No Excuses

          My time with you might offer guarantee
          of nothing more than somewhat shared pretense
          by which I’m not thought worthy your defence
          so shrug it off or claim the fault’s with me,
          whereas with my best acting I can’t be
          near good enough to earn love’s recompense.
          We’re sorry.   We’re not sorry.   In a sense,
          we’re both and neither due apology.
       
          Would anything be different?   We can blame
          me all we want, and I could even do
          what you make like I should’ve.   All the same
          I’d owe you, right?   No chance of something new.
          Forgiveness has no meaning, no real aim
          when what I’m really bad at’s loving you.
       
       

  174. Dear J.C.I,
    I fear I must apologise,
    yes, I know, it was so long ago,
    but words never said still burn inside.
    So, let me say them now. I am sorry.
    I am sorry I loved you more than you could understand.
    I am sorry I was so immature and could not understand either.
    I am sorry I lost you.
    I am sorry I spent most of my life searching for you,
    or an acceptable clone.
    I am sorry I failed.
    I am sorry it took over thirty years to realise
    that my love for you was a myth,
    a mere infatuation.
    I am sorry I wasted so much time trying the same old same old
    with so many others, who were never quite you.
    I am sorry I cannot go back with today’s wisdom
    and get it right.
    I am sorry that I blamed you, when of course
    the fault was always mine.
    If I could back, if only…
    …I would tell you that it was bound to happen to me.
    For I was weak and possessed by demons and monsters,
    but that I am not sorry that it was you.
    I hope you found the life you wanted and if not
    I am sorry.

    Iain

  175. Wendy Stevens says:

    Indigenous 

    The sidewalk is littered with
    pieces of twigs and broken flowers, 
    the air fraught with leftover winter.

    Time marches through the seasons, 
    as a squadron of fragile humans
    take shelter against the chilly spring winds.

    Indigenous to this sphere,
    we act and react to the constant 
    bombardment of cold rain in spring.

    Arched against the gales, 
    we seek the bounty, 
    but find it colorless and odorless. 

    Return to your cradles and wait,
    as winter holds the world tight in its fist,
    offering no apologies.

  176. Beth Rodgers says:

    HOW SORRY I AM

    Looking up to you
    I never thought you would betray my trust
    So certainly
    And completely.

    I worshipped your presence
    Immersed myself in your world
    Wondered what I could have possibly done
    To have you think of me as
    Obsolete.

    So sarcastically I divulge to you
    How sorry I am for being a hindrance
    To your emotional upheaval
    Which pushed me away and made me
    Question my own purpose.

    How sorry I am for allowing you to
    Invigorate my life with meaning
    Only to have you rip it away so
    Drastically and harshly.

    How sorry I am for finding you to be
    A snobbish, brutish force in the
    Scandalous life you have forced me to lead
    After you threw me aside
    Like a rag doll.

    How sorry I am.

  177. Imaginalchemy says:

    “A Note from Pestilence to the Other Horsemen of the Apocalypse”

    I will not apologize for the black plague.
    (I am actually quite proud of that one.)

    I will not apologize for the STDs.
    Although, I admit, that one was out of pure jealousy.
    Not fair for one’s lot in existence to be a perpetual virgin.

    I will not apologize for all the horrid things
    That eat away at organs, brains, bones, and blood.
    Not anymore than you would apologize for
    the droughts, lack of money, and blights
    that keep the poor starving–
    or the anorexia, bulemia, and vanity
    that keep the rich starving themselves.
    Nor would you apologize for the greed and lust
    that prompt nations to battle–
    But let’s be honest, it never took you that much
    effort to motivate them. You barely even nudge.
    And I know, after all these millennia, YOU would never apologize
    for the natural course of things, how you never allowed
    Just one person or creature to be immortal.

    But, maybe, I feel a bit sorry that I’ll never truly understand.
    That I’ve spent all this time making infections
    Rather than contemplating reflections.
    I’ve concocted soups of virus and bacteria
    But never enjoyed the scent of the blooming wysteria.
    Maybe it’s taken this long for me to see things anew.

    Or maybe I’m coming down with something too.

  178. NO SORRY REQUIRED, I’M IN IT FOR THE MAKE-UP SEX! (A Sestina)

    I love it when we disagree.
    Our arguments catch fire.
    A heated exchange will rearrange
    the terms of our desire.
    And to tell the truth, I love when we fight.
    to say otherwise, I’d be a liar.

    So we’ll take separate sides and you’ll lie your
    crying ass on your edge of the bed, and I agree
    I was an ass myself to challenge you. But to fight
    the urge would purge these feelings and douse the fire
    we’ve worked so hard to stoke. It’s no joke. You know you desire
    the same thing as I, and that can always be arranged.

    The times I seem so stubborn, so wild; yes, and deranged,
    are only ploys to make some noise and the liar
    in me tweaks the story so that what you desire
    would be something with which I could not disagree.
    So break out your “gasoline” and pour it on this fire,
    believe me, it won’t go out without a fight.

    Did you ever notice that when we fight,
    we rock and roll throughout the night, and it’s strange
    that the neighbors never object. I suspect their fire
    won’t burn as hot when they’re not taking a flyer
    or refuse to disagree.
    Maybe they’re without desire?

    We’ll sit and stew in silence until our desire
    left long smoldering, catches the sheets and we can’t fight
    the feelings it enflames. And you always agree
    that the entanglement of arms and legs get rearranged
    and even the words “I’ll respect you in the morning” aren’t lies,
    they only enhance the fire.

    I do hate when we fight, but to ignite such fire
    requires a lot of heat. And if you didn’t desire
    the exact same things, these flings would make liars
    out of the two of us. Plus, when we fight
    the night seems less cold. I’m getting too old to be this deranged,
    but in the end, the make-up sex is still great. And you never disagree.

    So, agree or disagree, love is an all-consuming fire.
    The uncontrolled burn will rearrange with desire.
    How about we schedule another “fight” Tuesday night? I’m a lover, not a liar.

  179. PKP says:

    Be back to read…. Like to write before I do.. But is anyone else feeling the dual sense of awe at the volume of writing and the sense of regretful knowing that it will be almost impossible to comment on all? As my grandmother used to say “This should be our worse problem”. Good for Poetic Asides, for RLB and the Aoril Challenge which has taken on an international life of its own…

  180. viv says:

    I’M SORRY – Napowrimo day 3

    For whatever it was that sent you into a sulk,
    I apologise.
    I wish I knew what it was,
    so that I could make amends.

    Was it the nut in the cake
    that broke your tooth?
    If it was, I’m sorry.

    Was it your best chisel
    I blunted on metal,
    trying to open a tin?
    My sin.

    Was it the hole in your sock
    that I didn’t repair?
    I thought they weren’t worth the effort,
    but if they were a favourite pair,
    then I’m sorry.

    Was it the dent in the door of the car?
    I explained about the car park
    and the stupid man who opened his door
    at the wrong moment. But perhaps
    you didn’t believe me.
    I apologise.

    Okay,
    if you’re going to keep this up all day
    and never tell me what I’ve done,
    I’m not sorry at all.
    I’m away to Mum’s until you’ve calmed down
    and said you’re sorry.

    I hope to have time to read everyone else’s later – it’s all go at the moment!

  181. ceeess says:

    Un-Epithalamium for an Unwedding (Two)

    I’m sorry that there never was a wedding.
    I thought we had a meeting of two minds,
    We lived in worlds of word and rhyme,
    a hum of language, clever tongue riffs.
    We might have written our collaboration poem,
    a later-life unfolding, celebration and ceremony,
    a song in the key of nurture and safe haven.

    I’m sorry that there never was a wedding.
    I’m sorry I bought painted wooden roses,
    regret the two gold bands, the dark red dress.
    The list of guests was ready, invitations bought.
    There could have been a wedding. There was not.

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 3, 2012

  182. Brian Slusher says:

    In the game of Sorry
    you never are
    because your rival
    does not care how
    close you’ve come
    to victory, how much
    it hurts to merely toe
    the verge of Paradise:
    one card can send you
    back to start, worse
    hearing that infernal
    word that means
    the opposite, that
    sounds like a jackal
    laughing as it gorges
    on your guts. Or
    worst, you learn
    to say it the same
    way, flashing your
    teeth with their
    boney sheen, and
    suddenly words
    don’t mean what
    they mean. Sorry is
    a game where
    no one wins.

  183. Marie Elena says:

    Untitled (a dodoitsu)

    Apologies may abound,
    Sincere or not. But, truth is,
    The miraculous power
    Lies in forgiveness.

  184. Hannah says:

    I’ll be back to read maybe write…Five-er needs to get to school! Happy day three of PAD, everyone!!

  185. MiskMask says:

    Too Late

    He was a twig of a man, t’was all that was left
    of his once former self. Love and kindness bereft
    from his soul after a lifetime of falsehoods,
    profanity and behaviour at the lewdest
    lowly levels. As a child he claimed the saviour as his
    one true and only, seemed the done thing to do;
    everyone else at the bible camp did too,
    but year by year folly fell upon him like stones,
    each of which he carried as a protective shell,
    a shield from his darkest nightmares, fears for his
    here, now and thereafter. He watched his fragmented
    reflection staring back emptied and aged in the mottled
    hall mirror, and he repeated and repeated and begged
    his own forgiveness: “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said.

  186. RJ Clarken says:

    Ooops…The first stanza should say, “We’re simply not harmonious.” (The grammar errors [and their (they're?) references] are supposed to appear in the stanzas which follow. After all, it is a break-up letter poem, right? Write.

  187. Nancy Posey says:

    This came through my email today as a timely coincidence. Fits perfectly with the prompt. No, it’s not spam. Just a giggle.
    http://www.obtampons.ca/apology

  188. RJ Clarken says:

    Usagerroneous

    I’m sorry that you don’t know why
    it makes a difference (heavy sigh.)
    It’s simply not harmonious.
    Your grammar’s too erroneous.

    Yes, ‘your’ and ‘you’re’ are not the same.
    And dangling participles? Shame!
    Mix ‘its’ and ‘it’s’? Felonious.
    Your grammar’s 2 erroneous.

    Don’t even get me started on…
    you’re comma splice. And tense? So gone.
    Do I sound sanctimonious?
    Your grammar’s to erroneous.

    Apologies to you then. Not!
    Where grammar goes, so goes it’s thought:
    its sad, not acrimonious.
    Your grammar’s tu erroneous.

    ###

  189. posmic says:

    An Impulse

    Sorry I did it,
    or sorry I got caught?
    The untended birthday cake,
    the perceived slight,
    a year’s worth of grievances,
    an ache growing since
    that fall; now it was spring.
    The cake. A battlement
    of white frosting, green.
    Happy Birthday, Tonya.
    Tonya who said she was
    done with her cake, left it
    sitting out in the dorm lounge,
    went out to dinner with
    everyone but me.
    Frosting through fingers.
    Some left in the sink.
    Caught. Oops.

    • Hannah says:

      Oh, posmic, that’s an ouch-ie feeling, all that effort and no appreciation. At least someone enjoyed it! ;)

      • posmic says:

        Hannah, you give me too much credit. I didn’t make the cake — just smashed it when it was left out, then accidentally left evidence by the sink. Maybe I’ll clarify that in revision, so everyone can know what an awful person I was (or still am?). :)

    • Well don’t leave your cake in the hall, Tonya! It’s your own damned fault! Still, you’re right to apologize. See, how defensive I get around food?

      • posmic says:

        Indeed, Tonya, what were you thinking? ;) This was one of those things where it feels good for a second, and then the next second, you wonder what came over you and who you are now that you’ve done this crazy thing. Before I smashed the cake, another hall neighbor came out and I told her about this impulse, and she said to go for it. Which just goes to show … you should never trust a drama major.

  190. foodpoet says:

    Silence

    In the silence of departure
    There are no words
    To convey regrets
    Of lost memories

    There are no words
    Nothing can be said
    To convey regrets
    To fix a broken friendship

    Nothing can be said
    We are both headstrong
    To fix a broken friendship
    We must look beyond the capsulated memories

    We are both headstrong
    Bound by this wounding encroaching loss
    We must look beyond the capsulated memories
    And take our lives back and be whole

    Bound by this wounding encroaching loss
    To convey regrets
    To take back our lives and be whole
    In the silence of depature

    megan

  191. Hannah says:

    ~MEAN IT OR DON’T SAY IT~

    I hear the stolid sound
    stumbling In your voice,
    an “I’m right,” attitude,
    resounding ruggedly,
    bursting bitingly,
    through a word
    meant for healing.
    A two-sided, “sorry,’
    hangs heavily
    between us;
    lack of eye contact
    truthfully tells,
    sadly, the story of
    a hardened heart.
    One look longs to
    steal away this pain,
    a single honest-
    passing glance
    held between us
    would create
    in curling cursive letters,
    the way we truly feel.
    Sprouting tenuous
    and trembling forward,
    finding fullness
    strength in the answer…
    …LOVE…

    © H.G. @ P.A. 4/3/12

  192. laurie kolp says:

    Are You Sorry?

    Please forgive me if I sound a bit
    brash, but I do believe your choice is quite
    rash. I mean, who but you would marry a witch
    a pernicious stickler for cursing, a b-
    Itch, did you say? An iTCH? You just want to
    marry? Then pick me, I’m the one you should
    carry over the threshold into your life
    but instead you chose a crone as your wife;
    are you sorry?

  193. Nancy Posey says:

    Bitter

    The words I’m sorry,
    once so bitter on my tongue,
    taste sweet as homemade
    muscadine wine, sweet as the kiss
    sealing your forgiveness.

  194. Ann M says:

    Tourist

    I took pictures of the basket of strawberries,
    skeins of plant dyed wool
    and the yellow birds in the cage.
    I didn’t know how to ask
    how much farther to the sea
    or whether to meet your eyes
    or look away.
    I didn’t know
    how many coins
    for the clay figure
    of a woman gathering beans,
    or what kind of beans,
    and why I wanted it.

  195. Nancy Posey says:

    In the Parking Lot
    After W.C.W.

    This is just to say
    I slid into
    the parking space
    as you pulled forward
    ready to back in.
    I’m running late
    and I can see
    you need the exercise.

    This is just to say
    I scraped your car
    backing out.
    People watching
    think I am leaving
    my name and number.
    But I’m not.

    This is just to say
    thank you
    for the coffee mug,
    which you left
    on the hood of your car
    especially for me,
    a stranger.

    This is just to say
    I reported you
    for parking
    in the handicap spot
    then running
    into the grocery.
    The hangtag
    for your daughter
    now away from home
    isn’t valid for you.

  196. “If I were any more sorry,
    I’d be a Country song”

    this day begins
    with sour memories
    brought on by restless sleep

    and dreams
    which can’t escape me

    this pull of gravity
    keeps me tied to a time
    a moment
    when life changed

    these moments of
    SIGNIFICANCE
    which happen
    every day
    when you answer a
    yes
    with a
    no

    and bright lights fade
    and weariness
    over.comes

  197. Monik says:

    You want me to say sorry for something you did twice. You want me to forgive you not only once. You say people change but so have you. You say I’ve changed out of the blue. It doesn’t really matter who did what friendship lasts forever I love you no matter what.

  198. HARD FOR ME TO SAY I’M SORRY

    After all that we’ve been through
    it becomes harder to replace the quailites
    that have endeared you to my heart.
    And so I hold on in silence.

    Thankfully, no violence ever transpired, but
    after all that we’ve been through,
    this sense of love remains, even though strained.
    We can work out the kinks, I think…

    So while we dissect and deflect the barbs
    and the blame, we follow the same path.
    After all that we’ve been through
    it just seems easier to find our bearings.

    So looking at you from across the room,
    there is no fear or impending doom, there is
    just this sense that no “sorries” will suffice
    after all that we’ve been through.

  199. maggzee says:

    FAITH

    Apologia Apochypha
    I did not die
    For your sins
    Politics Heretics
    Faith dies where
    Religion begins

    TWIT
    In forty characters
    I assassinated yours.
    I should not repeat my
    Thoughts in a tweet.

  200. PARDON MY DUST

    Revving on the red line,
    spinning my wheels while
    it feels like I’m racing away.

    But I stay in one place
    without a trace or inclination
    to remove my foot from the brake.

    I take a breath and put the pedal to the floor,
    and the engine roars as my tires squeal.
    It feels like if I don’t stop,

    something will pop in my head, and instead
    of getting out to go, I’d end up putting this thing
    through the showroom window. That sales guy looks pissed!

    Pardon my dust!

  201. PowerUnit says:

    A Girl in a Hoodie

    You flittered by
    with your click clacking high heels
    and swinging blonde ponytail,
    throwing expletives at the distinguished
    businessman following you,
    his dark rimmed Poindexters pouring over
    your waddling perkiness

    I’m glad you didn’t look at me
    sitting, chatting with the empty chairs
    and large policemen grappling
    their morning caffeine fixes.
    Fuzz with a buzz you called them.
    How you hated the brown bagged bellies
    and the apathetic gazes of my world.

    And how I hate yours,
    the lotto booth looks,
    the knitting basket banter,
    and the pink baseball hat Friday night drinks.
    I much prefer a Joan Jett stroll,
    character and opinion, an attitude.
    I want a girl in a hoodie.

  202. Apologetic Acrostic

    I fall to my knees
    My soul cries out

    Seduced by the visual
    Obsessed with the fantasy
    Rendered our relationship to ruins
    Realized too late it was pointless
    Yearning to be made whole again

  203. deedeekm says:

    UNapologetic :)

    The Core

    Come in
    This far, right here
    no farther
    you think you know?
    this be the bathwater
    not the baby
    peel off layers, you will get
    nothing but a mess on the floor
    this part, this heart
    this tiny place, unknowable
    mine, I keep it
    Scrape the outside raw
    you ain’t touching it, you couldn’t
    not in a million tries
    a million lies
    no kryptonite here
    no magic dagger to pierce
    no map.
    disconnected, unplugged, off
    the grid
    mercurial
    All you get
    a glimpse, a peek, a hint
    like a stream
    direction changes
    but the water still flows where it will

  204. just Lynne says:

    I might have been inspired too closely by Mr. Brewer’s poem… but this is an important recent moment for me. I’m 29 and the friend in the poem is 25, but sometimes when we are hurt we still act/respond like children…

    -Lynne

    ___________________

    I’m sorry that
    I asked you in a text
    if you hung up on me
    I just
    wasn’t sure what happened
    whether the call was dropped
    or what

    I didn’t expect
    you to get so angry and defensive,
    a flurry of angry apologies,
    snarling at me for attacking you

    I reminded myself
    that it wasn’t me
    this is how She would have responded
    if you hung up on her

    I remember when you called me
    a year ago past
    shaken
    you were quiet on your side of the phone

    “she called me a bad word,”
    you had said, grieving in stunned disbelief,
    “she called me a swear word.
    “no one has called me a bad name in my life.
    “I just hung up on her by mistake.
    “I dropped the phone.”
    I grieved with you then
    grieved at your childlike innocence
    and brokenness
    when your girlfriend lost her temper

    so now I grieve
    that my text about the phone call
    brings back that wounded child
    I hoped that since she was gone
    I would have you back, whole again
    but it takes a while for one to heal
    for a while I might have to remind you who I am

    I don’t get angry about missed phone calls
    do you remember my softness?
    like I remember yours?

  205. IF I ONLY HAD THE WORDS

    My sunshine died when you breathed your last,
    and it is fast becoming apparent that I could use
    your warmth, your smile your calming hand.
    We had so many plans…I’m sorry you had to go.

    It is so empty inside here, And it is so clear
    that the best part or me lived in the worst part of you.
    To be there when all you needed was my voice,
    my words and tender caresses (no matter how they messed

    me up for so long) I appeared to be strong
    for your sake, and mine. but I doubted my ability
    to release your gentility when the time came.
    But all the same, you said it was what you needed.

    All you wanted was for me to hold you,
    and I told you I always would and it was good
    that when all you could see was me in your life,
    that I held you in my arms and heart.

    When you started to decline, it was my honor
    to be the one who would keep your spirit alive.
    I still wish you could see what loving you
    had done to me and my life.

    But the flame of you has been extinguished,
    and the only thing left is this spark that glows
    every April since you’ve been gone. I’m sorry,
    but my need to be strong has no more reason to be.

    If I only had the words…

  206. You gotta love Tuesdays at 5:30 AM EST. Thanks for the head start Robert.

  207. SharieO says:

    If Only

    If only I could’ve found the way
    The way to see past the pain
    If only I had been stronger
    I felt like Hercules, or maybe Atlas
    With the weight of it all pressing me down
    I held it so valiantly- for so, so long
    Until I learned that I could let it go
    Throw it away, leave it behind, move onward
    And upward
    To the land of the living-the fully living
    If only I had reached for your outstretched hand
    All those years ago
    I just didn’t know how to reach, that I even could
    Thank you for waiting for me
    The real me who was also waiting
    To shine through, to find her secret door
    Out from the darkness of pain
    That wasn’t really hers

  208. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

    I’ll do no such thing!
    Apologize? Why I’d rather
    eat tree bark, besides
    your snarky attempt at
    guilting me for taking the blame
    is the same ploy you’ve used before.
    I will not say I’m sorry,
    I will not say it’s my fault.
    This time you’re left holding the bag,
    you evil hag. I’m…oh, I’m sorry,
    I thought you were someone else.

  209. REGRET, I’VE HAD A FEW

    I could have done things differently.
    But, my ego and stubbornness always
    gets the worst of me. You see,
    you had the power to change and
    I never listened to your heart.
    Each time you would start to explain,
    my brain would shut down and
    never hear your meaning. You’ve seen
    it before, what’s more, you knew
    you would always forgive me.
    I knew it too. I’m sorry if I hurt you.

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