Summary

The web content is a reflective and humorous poem titled "By Way Of An Apology" by Carlo Zeno, which serves as a response to a poetry challenge issued by Sheri Jacobs to write an apology poem.

Abstract

Carlo Zeno's poem "By Way Of An Apology" is a creative expression of regret and self-deprecation, where the speaker humorously laments their existence from birth, apologizing for being "all wrong" from the start. The poem reflects on the speaker's birth, their delayed arrival, and their perceived flaws, suggesting that even their parents might have considered them a mistake. The speaker also sarcastically apologizes for a trivial error, buying the wrong herb for a pasta sauce, and muses on the absurdity of their existence under an "evil purple star." The poem is a playful take on the theme of apology, with the speaker wishing they could have spoken as a newborn to prevent their birth. The piece is part of a larger chain of poetic responses to Sheri Jacobs' prompt challenge, with Zeno tagging other poets to participate.

Opinions

The speaker expresses a sense of inherent wrongness from birth, suggesting a comedic self-view as an existential mistake.
There is a humorous exaggeration of personal flaws and the impact of minor mistakes, such as confusing herbs for a recipe.
The poem conveys a tongue-in-cheek apology for the speaker's very existence, framing it as a burden or error.
The speaker references the influence of Douglas Lim's poem and Sheri Jacobs' poetry challenge, indicating a community of poets engaging with each other's work.
The poem includes a direct challenge to other poets, inviting them to respond to the same prompt, showing a sense of camaraderie and continuity in the poetic discourse.

By Way Of An Apology

Sorry, I Was Born Like This

Existentially challenged

**Why couldn’t you just throw me into the river?** / Photo taken by one of author’s crazy parents

I’m sorry. It came out all wrong.

so did I — I came out all wrong

out of the womb

from day fucking one

three weeks late, too fat, dreaming like ten idiots —

had my parents been prophets, they would have tossed me in the river —

so I’m fucking sorry. What more do you want?

my right arm?

an apology from my parents for ignoring the signs of

grandiose idiocy

that stared them back in the face that fateful day I was born

at night under the fig tree

under some evil purple star that only Don Quixote could see

off his fucking horse, or rocker,

or whatever?

and no, I am NOT changing the god damn subject.

I am really truly fucking SORRY that I bought the wrong fucking herb for your precious pasta sauce only to then ask you in snarky unapologetic audacity if my little mistake would change the course of history —

does rosemary really taste that different from thyme?

well, sue me.

what I mean to say is sorry.

had I only been able to open my fat stupid mute mouth that horrible night under the fig tree

and say,

THROW ME INTO THE RIVER!

YOU’VE MADE A BIG MISTAKE!

WAS THE SEX REALLY WORTH IT?

but as you know, pumpkin, one- day old babies can’t talk, and my deluded parents thought my horror- infused bawling

was just adorable.

© Carlo Zeno 2023

________________________

This outburst was fueled by Douglas Lim’s recent poem below:

I Am Sorry, Am a Poet

An Apology Poem Challenge

medium.com

Keep following the trail and you will find the originator, Sheri Jacobs’s prompt challenge below. The prompt is to write an apology poem for something you said or did.

Calling All Poets and Teachers:

A Poetry Challenge

medium.com

Here is another recent response to the prompt by Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles:

Sorry, Not Sorry!

Sheri Jacobs’ interesting poetry writing prompt

vidyasury.medium.com

Passing the torch to a few poets I admire (and I am sorry in advance if you have already seen and responded to this prompt earlier). Please let me know if you do not want to be tagged in future.

Harold De Gauche, Franco Amati, Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她), Monoreena Acharjee Majumdar, Rachel K., Harry Stefanakis, GE McKerrihan, Indah Maulida, Arthur Dewson, Suzanne Cohen.

10 Reasons Why I Didn’t Leave A Comment

It’s not what you think

medium.com