Michael Coy Poet Sonnet

I Apologize With Fresh Supplies of Is

You rightly, quite politely, criticise
my efforts at composing “pleiades”.
What’s rare about revilings such as these
is, blaming me for leaving out my “I”’s.
The reason isn’t tricky to surmise.
My arrogance supposes I, with ease,
can conjure (with unthinking expertise)
whatever I may please.  Please don’t despise
my failure to peruse the contest rules,
for carelessness (the calling-card of fools)
is what possessed me.  That, I can’t disguise.
Each time a fresh and feisty pair of eyes
lands on my folly, one more pride-cell dies.
 

Its silver magenta
is shimmering warm-white
in damson-dark center,
ink-black like summer night;
if clay turned inventor,
it might spawn this dawn-light.

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Jan Allison March 2, 2017 at 10:59 AM We all fall foul of the rules at some time. I didn't comment on your original I poem but read it and thought it was a beautiful verse. soupmail:-) hugs Jan Michael Coy March 2, 2017 at 11:06 AM Jan, that's really sweet of you. Thank you so much!

Darren White March 2, 2017 at 10:43 AM Don't feel foolish, we've all been there :) I once managed to enter a 24 line poem for a 10-line max. contest ;) I love the way you wrote your apologiiiiies though, very creatively :) Michael Coy March 2, 2017 at 11:05 AM hehehe Thank you for the sympathetic words, amigo. I love your 24-liner story! It's one of those things that's easy to get wrong, but looks so DUMB.

Kim Rodrigues March 2, 2017 at 9:41 AM A double-dip of "I". I enjoyed both! Michael Coy March 2, 2017 at 9:43 AM LOL The hope is, the poetic transgression will be forgiven if I say sorry poetically. Thank you, Kim!

Tim Smith March 2, 2017 at 9:36 AM I often fail when it comes to rules. No worries. Michael Coy March 2, 2017 at 9:41 AM LOL That's kind of you. I have to say, I feel rather foolish.