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Saturday Afternoon “Is that the Empire State Building you’ve got in your pants?” Well, I thought it was funny, and this was Greenwich Village, so there was at least a fifty percent chance he would laugh and, hopefully, stop to exchange numbers. But no — I wasn’t showing a big enough building of my ...

Michael, thank you so much for weighing in! I agree with your suggestion for the title. "Prodigal Lamb" is probably what I'll end up calling it. You have to understand that I'm not steeped in Christianity, as my parents weren't particularly religious, and so I haven't got all the lingo down pat. I d...

“Sorry that I've been away for a while (not that I'm everyone's favorite new member, but I like to pretend that I'm wanted).” This is the attitude you came him with, a self-fulfilling prophecy. You create your own problem and then fulfill. You might want to look at yourself. I’ve recently, at age 7...

What a nice comment! Thank you!

This line ...

they are, from where they came,

... originally had "sprang" in place of "came". I inserted "came" because the K sound seemed to fit better, but "came" is a more ordinary word. Now I'm not sure.

Thank you, Bob -- that's very generous of you. No, this was written a few days ago. I put it up on the other forum I participate in and got only one short comment that didn't tell me much. The poem reflects my religious views, though I won't bore you with them now. One concern I had about the poem i...

Homecoming God wants to be mocked, something not well understood, for his greatest joy is in reunions, those homecomings when his rebellious sheep wander back from their reckless ventures, bleating about splendid lands, of better meals to be had, and making audacious demands, but also remembering w...

Thank you for commenting. Do you mean the perception that the woman is putting on her own show in an exhibitionistic way (given that her legs are bare)? I didn't even think about that. As the speaker in the poem, I certainly don't think the woman was intentionally putting herself on display, but to ...

I have completely changed the ending.

Sorry that I've been away for a while (not that I'm everyone's favorite new member, but I like to pretend that I'm wanted). I was going to tell you, Bob, that it is okay to criticize my poems -- I don't bite all the time. The other forum shares your view, that the beginning is the weakest part, but ...

Thank you, Bob. I appreciate it! I think parts are still a bit too prosaic, but I'm still working on it.

Fahrenheit, Not Celsius (version 4 -- new ending) A big meal before bed turned my body into a steel-smelting blast-furnace producing prodigious amounts of heat, making it impossible to sleep. Switching the covers in and out, it took me an hour to get comfy. As I settled into the warmth, all I could...

I wasn't going to say anything (because you said you didn't want me to), but this has been sitting without a critique for a while. I'll keep my comments brief. I think it's a good poem. It's clear. It flows nicely. There are lots of poignant moments in it, and the images are creative throughout. Ind...

I don't know if my input is wanted, but I love the flow of the poem. It's a little mesmerizing.

This is a good poem. You've got a little humor in there, which is always good when writing about the police. (Of course, the police stop being funny when they kill you.) The poem unfolds in natural language, and it is engaging throughout. I hate super-long lines so much that I read only some of the ...

This is a great poem. I assume it actually happened, though I guess I shouldn't. It's written too well, with too much energy and irony for it to just be dreamed up. The opening couplet is fabulous -- "the coast of Chile", very funny! If it did happen, to be arrested for sitting in a park, even in a ...

Thank you, Bob and Billy. It seems you both like it, and that makes me feel good. I'm finding that not many publications want poems about the police, but I'm sure I'll place it eventually. The incident happened in 2019, but I wrote this in 2023. I hope your run-ins with the law weren't too awful, Bi...

Resisting Arrest in Warren, RI The bell rings. A policeman is at my door. I lean out a second-floor window to talk. He won’t tell me why he’s here. What does he want? He won’t say. He tells me to come downstairs, to open my door, but why must this, whatever it is, be said face to face? He already h...

Frank, or Ieuan (is that right?), I don't expect to get criticisms from you after I leave positive feedback on someone else's poem. When you do that, you can expect pushback from me.

I'm glad you are talking to me again, even if you still won't critique a poem of mine that Michael hasn't critiqued first. That Klepetar poem points up a complaint about One Sentence Poems that I have. Their submission guidelines are very specific, but Klepetar's poem doesn't follow them. His poem d...

Alicia Stallings is almost a god, in my view. Her talent is enormous. https://www.onesentencepoems.com That is the URL for One Sentence Poems . It is part of a larger organization called Ambidextrous Bloodhound Press owned by Dale Wisely. He has other publications; I think that Right Hand Pointing i...

Thank you so much, Bob. That's nice to hear.

I put in the comma and "for" (instead of the period) to make it one sentence so that I could submit it to One Sentence Poems.

Alicia Stallings has seen this, and was appreciative.

You are obviously talking to me, Frank. First, most of my poems have an autobiographical element in them, and I suspect that is true for most poems that are written. A good poet generally writes about his own experiences. I posted all those poems because I was angry that the bunch of you were sudden...

I agree that this is a lovely poem, but it also makes me sad because I read from it that you are ill or for some reason house-bound or limited in your movements. (I hope that's not the case.) The final strophe is especially touching and moving. No spots stand out as needing to be fixed. I suppose it...

I wouldn't say I'm having trouble writing, it's just that the poems come too infrequently. Trying to force the creativity doesn't work. In my old age -- despite my health problems -- I've achieved a kind of stasis, and such a state doesn't seem to spur creativity. Yet, as I approach death, I find my...

I just noticed this post. Unfortunately, clicking on the link doesn't bring the poem up. It seems I have to register to see it.