Best Sorry Poems
Dearest soup tech
Who I love and respect
I write to you
So that you may know
I've tried to be here
With iPad and cheer
But the login fails me
No action tells me
Of possible broken links
One maybe
Just maybe....
My iPad stinks
Meanwhile I sigh
As I try to not cry
As I type again
And hope with intent
That you might check in
... And tell me
How to begin...
Xoxo
Wish me luck
I'm about
To push
The
Button...
(note: picture is essential to the poem)
POTD 11-25-17
Teacher said my decisions needed consequences.
I have to write a million gazillion sorry sentences.
Billy was stupid to tease me, call my family poor.
I had to kick Billy so he wouldn’t say it more.
Just like Dad does, I laughed when he hit the floor.
Dad would say I was strong, teach says I was wrong.
I don’t understand any grown up stuff.
They don’t act the same way enough,
or Dad is right; I’m so stupid, I can’t keep up.
I’m trying so hard to stop my eyes.
Things always get more worse when I cry.
Even when I’m quiet and being haved
my tummy hurts cause it feels afraid.
Everyone’s at recess, but cause I made an upset,
Teach said there’d be no play time for me yet.
I don’t know what she means by classroom policy,
but it seems like a plan you grow up and forget.
There’s no sorry policy in my family.
Dad never 'pologizes when he kicks me.
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
Khalil Gibran
In days of darkness,
sad stars shimmer like somber souls.
Upon the return of solitude,
whilst shaping strings of silence,
a troubled tongue becomes a soundless voice.
In each tear there is torment.
Reminiscing unredeemed memories,
heartbeats of the heartbroken echo gently at nightfall,
as a black blanket covers indigo horizons before my eyes.
In an anthology of angst.
Shrouded shadows in manipulative mirrors,
shield the sensitivity of sincere speech.
Without words, embodied emotions,
integrate into invisible inflictions.
Perpetual pain from a poisonous past,
repeats in an unrhymed repetitive rhythm,
as fragile fingers trigger hidden trauma.
In the midst of misunderstood metaphors.
There are secrets in suppression,
with so much lost in a suicide of expression.
Spiteful spirits reappear, reflecting like
neoteric neon drops on midnight shores,
washing away forlorn forgotten footsteps -
yet the sorrows continue into tomorrow.
Trials of time leave behind trails of truth,
as facts of fate fail in this false fairground we call life.
Reflections of regret resonate a reality,
where the world is working on its own worries.
In hollow nothingness, death is a blessing,
as no one offers holy hope -
only silence remains.
Dear Ex,
I know you and I had our differences.
We were always finding new ways to say I loathe you.
It was my blameworthiness that allowed the rain to enter your car,
because your window was down.
I’m sorry I didn’t carry my 9 months of pregnant girth,
down four flights of stairs, to the
outside parking deck, in the rain to roll it up.
It was my fault when the bank account was overdrawn by 6 cents,
due to paying all the bills on time.
I apologize for keeping the power turned on
so I could cook fish sticks and green bean soup on your salary.
It was my fault the car was always out of gas,
since I never drove it anywhere.
What could I do but apologize for that?
It was totally my fault. By the way, I met your supervisor.
Like when I forced you
to have an extramarital relationship with a co-worker
because of the weight I had gained.
I’m so sorry my Motherhoodness was so repulsive to you.
It also was my fault our marriage didn’t last longer than 3 years,
because I chose to be happy without you.
I do regret that almost never. Did I mention my promotion?
But let’s not be sad.
For all the hurtful comments I made about your manhood because,
I couldn’t think of anything nice to say. I’m sorry.
I regret that I didn’t save some of those photos for Ripley’s Believe it or Not.
I deeply regret having never told you I entered you in an ugly man contest.
Or that your third placement, won me an additional $5 gift card.
Did I mention my new job?
So Ex,
I hope this heart felt letter of apology
finds you prosperous and in good health.
Keep those support payments coming, and
Don’t forget to feed the kitty!
Love, your new boss
If I weren't afraid, I'd...
Have pulled that red lipstick
Out of my purse
And with cover
Of sister and cousin
Surrounding your coffin
Replaced that drab pink coral
With your trademark red
We knew it wasn't a colour
You'd have been caught in dead
9/11/2019
So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,
So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,
Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,
Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing,
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.
I need more lives for me to live
In this universe of beauty;
I plan more days to find new ways
Of doing freedom's duty.
I need not more joy than this
For I am life's dear lover;
And when I wage to turn the page
I'd never want another.
The glorious pledge of sunny Spring
With sweet June coming after;
Bring autumn sighs and summers cries
Lost in winter's laughter.
With virgin moons and scorching noon’s
And stars of a thousand nights;
I'd need no heaven if love be given
With all its sweet delights.
There are many splendors for the eye
And such music for the ear;
The mind would reel with all to feel
And see to touch and hear.
There's many ways to spend the days
And more to do what's kind;
For bread now cast on waters past
Returns again I find.
There are such gifted souls to know
And many more to learn;
While a promise rests in earth's warm breast
And unknown stars still burn.
In six days God made all the earth
The bible is known to say;
Six lives I need to plant a seed
Of love with one for each dear day.
But sad if love should fly away
Or hide his face from me;
Six lives aren’t much if I had such
But one’s all that need be.
With unhappy May and sorry June
Sad dawns and weary night;
A sorry world through space was hurled
When love had lost her light.
"When returning love, becomes to Late"
Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly
Sending her soul
A free feeling,
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate
Too long she waited,
She's not hungry, her heart self healed
3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name
SKAT
I washed my white lace tablecloth and hung it out to dry
The bleach did the best it could-it was worth the try
'Though no one else can see, the stain still remains
As old as time itself
Stubborn as mildew rot
One false step, one careless word forever etched in time
Travels the universe, endlessly
In search of a place to rest
What would I not give to reverse that step
To retrieve that hateful word
Tread lightly in your daily walk, o'er hills and valleys in between
Plot well your steps and weigh your words
So you'll have nothing to regret, like the
Unkind words carved deeply upon your heart
I wash my white lace tablecloth again, again and again!
~*~
10/09/2007
The sorrows we borrow,
the sorrows we keep—
are debts of the dead,
replayed in our sleep.
Blood writes the tally,
blood writes it in red;
tomorrow collects
what yesterday bled.
The sun drags its shadow.
The sun drags its shroud—
darkness advancing
cowering aloud.
Dry eyes at dawn.
Ashes inbred;
a prayer in the dust,
a prayer for the dead.
The sun flares faintly,
a wound in the sky.
The clouds part briefly,
yet cold will not die.
What was served yesterday
lies rotting today;
a banquet of abstinence,
a plate of decay.
Tears must be borrowed.
Tears must be sown;
the covenant is endless,
the debt as ever has grown.
I am summoned.
I am again sworn—
to gather the blood,
to nourish the thorn,
to water dead flowers,
for sorrow's reborn.
It is a sun splashed day; the air is silent with the sound of waves
from an ocean moving to the rhythm of crying gulls.
The sand underneath my feet is warm and soothing.
The crashing waters from a wind sculpted waterfall swims
into the arms of its mother sea.
It is a private beach at a spot in the world
were the Caribbean Sea and The Atlantic Ocean hug.
It is a strange sensation of hot then cold, that tease the senses.
The young woman with me is my lover of four years.
The golden rays of light from the bright morning star
lives in the flow of her platinum blond hair.
In her eyes I can see the bright clear blue ocean, warm,
but with a piercing love glare that sends shivers up my spine.
We are young, in love and safe
inside a perfect glossy postcard background.
Her red lips and light drenched skin glows
with the beauty of this perfect Jamaican day.
Without a thought I grab the back of her head,
jerking my lover's whole body towards me
locking her in the strength of my grasp
inviting her to quench my desire.
I bite her lips before engaging in a deep passionate kiss
and remove a barely there bikini from her statuesque figure.
She embraces me as I lift her in my arms
naked for all the Gods to observe.
I set her down under the refreshing flow of the rushing waterfall.
She attempts to pull at me, but I deny her.
I hold back both her arms and use my mouth
to suckle her all the time absorbing the beating waters
that kneads my flesh, like so much dough.
Suddenly I set my angel free. She pounces on me,
like a lioness in heat famished for the taste of flesh.
The world disappears and I find myself willingly trapped in a void.
Nature's voice conducts an orchestra of emotion.
We writhe in the ecstasy of touch.
With the strokes of a divinity fingers paint a portrait of rapture.
We dance now to the precise notes
of an escape into the arms of serenity.
In one fluid movement, our bodies become one.
There is no end to the divine flavors we share.
Cooling waters flame our sins.
We explode like a building
imploding gracefully to the roar of infinite sound.
Until eventually we pass out naked
locked in each others arms.
We find ourselves lying on the warmth
of the fine white sand beach when we awaken,
tattooed in the telling shades of a Jamaican suntan.
Call Me Baby
I must confess...
I’ve caused a lot of mess,
blatantly calling you nasty names,
playing all kinds of childish games.
I used to think you couldn’t get enough
of me because I was hot stuff.
Never thought you would ever leave,
that you would always stay, I still believe.
You no longer call me on the phone…
like the proverbial cheese, I sleep alone.
Without you, Baby, I’m feeling so crazy,
really scatter-brained and hazy.
I feel like such a big fool
losing you and losing my cool.
Tell me this is not how our story ends;
please give me a second chance to make amends.
I’m sorry I did you wrong;
so sorry for stringing you along.
Please let me make it up to you;
I’ll do whatever it takes to start anew.
We were so wonderful together;
I promise this time it’ll be even better.
I miss being your leading lady…
please, please call me, Baby.
10/13/2015
Contest: Trashed #3
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placement: 4th
I would like to spill,
What is harbored in my soul.
I would like to say,
Things that no one really knows.
·
I’d apologize to you,
In a measurement beyond the stars.
For not being there with you,
Has left my soul this scar.
·
I’m reminded of the heartache,
From that dreadful day.
Of an ordinary time,
When God took you away.
·
I would’ve quickly taken,
The fate that you have faced.
Than to see your children suffer,
Savoring sorrows aftertaste.
·
If I had straps on my shoulders,
Attached to an antique plow.
You’d see deep ruts in the earth,
From the weight I carry now.
·
I’m harvesting my burdens,
In my open fields of pain.
In the drought of happiness,
Awaiting a smiling rain.
·
I’ve cultivated memories,
From the 3 years you’ve been gone.
Laying on glistening blades of grass,
That I cried on sorrow’s lawn.
·
I reminisce on the tears,
That only my heart knows.
Waiting for bouquets of smiles,
From the seeds I just now sowed.
·
I’m sorry you faced such madness,
Without me along your side.
And things could have been better,
Perhaps you would have survived.
·
I’m sorry I didn’t call you,
To distract your vivid mind.
But I replay those what if’s,
All the freakin’ time.
·
No one knows my heartache,
Of not biding my goodbye.
These are things I’ve harbored,
Way down, deep inside.
·
It feels like you’d still be here,
If I’d used my earthly power.
I’m sorry for not distracting you,
From your darkest hour.
·
This is a poem I had to write,
To regain my inner control.
And release my encumbers,
To unburden my soul.
·
You will always be my best friend,
A notion I’ll never condone.
You know I’ll await your answer,
When God calls me home.
_________________________
For Christie and Sharon's
"I'm Sorry" Contest
The doubt and anger are here again
No surprise, my new friend
Believed I could keep it all away
Now it’s about to steal me away
Come steal me away. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Hearts are craters, deep as wells
Fill them up and hold on well
Sand and mud, the liquid seeps
Dirty tears and sorrows creep
Creep in to swallow me. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Told you, I told you. Remember I did?
This time it was raw, nothing I hid
Unacceptable loathing and regret
Nothing to explain, at least not yet
You will see though. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Consuming distraction, love that I know
It’s dying already with no place to go
You won’t agree and you won’t see
It will never be enough for me
You will hate me so. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts that I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Let me go, for I am already gone
I’m sorry to make you believe this long
Hopeless rage, directed at you
Walls constructed to block the view
But you will still want me. Again, and again.
I can’t change the parts I hate, and I’ll never be happy again. Again
You’re dressed in gray, and
tattered like the clouds
that hover above you.
Frozen
with the look of a person
who knows of his own
approaching death.
Like the willow that cradles
dawn's mist of unwept tears—
a practiced sorrow,
earned from decades of watching
the slow meandering river,
as it draws closer,
and the banks weather and fall.