Poems of Apology

"this is just to say" that I hope you forgive me

The poetry William Carlos Williams is inspiring student writers to try new techniques with the traits of sentence fluency and idea development.

You can self-publish writing done to this prompt by clicking here.

Student Samples: Elementary

Sorry for Drinking Your Tea
by Elise, fifth grade poet

Student Samples: Middle School

Pancake Thief
by Connor, eighth grade poet

Forgive me
For stealing
Your pancakes

I sneaked over
While you were gone
I stole them so quickly
Eating them even faster

So warm and soft
Your pancakes were
Filled with butter and syrup
Delicious

Many Apologies
by Amy, eighth grade poet

I’m sorry for all the silly things I have done
Burning my hand
Sewing my finger
Leaving toothpicks out on which dad stepped on
I was young and foolish, no care in the world

I’m sorry for all the past things that have occurred
Skipping my lessons
Wasting my life on the computer
Breaking six plates in three days
I wasn’t thinking of the outcome

For all these things I apologize
For you are my mother, the one who has taught me so much
Now though, I have learned from my mistakes and corrected them
Allowing me to excel in my academic career and studies

Once more, I am sorry for causing you any stress
In the future, I hope to make it up to you

(Click here to view and print these two eighth graders' poems for sharing in class.)

Student Samples: High School

Black button shirt
by Valerri, eleventh grade writer

I looked so ravishing in that black button
shirt. The one with your initials written
on that itchy Macy’s tag. The one you
specifically told me not to wear, you
know the one you spent the last of your
Christmas money on? That one shirt.
That one thing you wanted sooo bad,
the one you had circled in that shiny
new magazine. I’m sorry I looked so
ravishing in your black button shirt.

Praying for the breakdown
by Andrew, twelfth grade writer

You have been down that paved
path for so long we sometimes lose
track of the miles between. I count
523.
Forgive me if my number is not
exact, it becomes hard to judge
when the names of towns and
streets become unfamiliar.
I’m guessing five-thirty by now…
without a doubt six by morning.
It must be hard watching the
headlights clear away the pitch with
nothing but screaming voices with
deaf ears to drag up the sun. I
apologize for praying for the
breakdown.

(Click here to view and print Valerri, Andrew, and three of the classmates' poems for shaing in class.)