In Moderation

Comments missed,

though unintended,

Default settings changed

to ease the strain,

Unmoderated, means

some got right by me,

Mortified I might

do this again.

Twiddled with the knobs,

reset the buttons,

Moderating so that

I won’t miss,

Always much appreciated, kindly,

take this poem as a virtual kiss.

This does mean, however,

that you’re pending,

And time is rarely seen

as my best friend

But I’d rather take the time

to answer always

Than risk the chance of

doing that again.

Apologies to kindly readers,

Don’t now know how many may have sneaked on by,

I’m trusting I can keep up, beg your patience,

Enemied by time but I will try.

 

 

Rhubarb, Apple, Humble

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/30/prompt-humble-pie/

 

Not my favourite type of pie. I much prefer rhubarb

With a touch of ginger. Tart but warming.

Or apple, sprinkled with cinnamon. Sweet but spicy.

 

Humble pie is bitter, sour tasting.

No matter what flavour it is topped with.

 

I swallow it with dread. And it goes over in lumps,

Choking on the way down.

But, once consumed,

It tastes sweeter, more full of flavour

Than any other.

For it means I had to say,

‘I’m sorry. I was wrong.’

As tough as that is to do, as hard as the crust may be-

It cuts at the throat –

To move on, it is necessary.

 

No matter what pie you love,

Swallowing pride,

Revealing inside,

Alters taste

And relationships.