I’m Sorry
I’m Sorry
by Beth Wangler
Please don’t reply,
“It’s not your fault.”
The phrase may be other than
An admission of guilt.
Instead it could be
An expression of
Heartfelt sympathy
And the genuine wish
For your well-being.
I’m Sorry
by Beth Wangler
Please don’t reply,
“It’s not your fault.”
The phrase may be other than
An admission of guilt.
Instead it could be
An expression of
Heartfelt sympathy
And the genuine wish
For your well-being.
As a little girl, I spent much of my time digging in the backyard and dreaming up stories. I’m discovering that this activity still brings me remarkable inspiration. This poem I share with you came to me while digging weeds out of the back lawn. At the top of the list of things I hate…
You’re powder in a glass jar pressed down, tamped down by everybody’s expectations. Have this job, earn that much, know the unknowable future. You’re twenty-____, for goodness’ sake. And you give in, let them shape you, but if there ever is a spark, you just might blow.
A poem, as I’ve been at my new job for a couple weeks: I’m a working girl now— Let me tell you how I’m getting by Working nine-to-five: Thank God I’m not in school. I got to do arts and crafts today, Stickers on folders for bills that are paid, Endorsing checks with a fun…
I had to write a poem using a metaphor and/or simile for my class. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? Basically every poem I’ve written is or has a metaphor. No, it was very hard. This is all I could come up with: Laziness You are a Bradford pear tree in bloom, Branches abounding…
Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m very thankful for all of you who read this blog, especially you, Tetiana Aleksina and ashleydhansen :) As a token of my love for all of you, here’s a love-related poem I wrote a while back. I hope it gives you a chuckle!
Sometimes I work for my dad during the summer, when he needs help painting houses. This past week was one of those times, and it inspired this poem: ______________________________________________________ What stories left these walls marked up? What souls were here before? Time marches on, and I its instrument Cover the relics of history, Trap the…
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