One Sentence Poems

F. John Sharp Nebraska A flock of cranes cruises low over the dusty prairie, elevating in time to miss an abandoned windmill, wing-wind spinning it briefly, causing nearby cattle to raise their thirsty heads in forgotten anticipation. F. John Sharp lives and works in Northeast Ohio, where sports teams go to die, and swears that […]

F. John Sharp The Meaning of Adventure There is nothing like a backyard campout, where every sound is a bad guy or a bear, where you feel spiders and snakes that aren’t there, and where you don’t really care as long as you have snacks and a good flashlight.   F. John Sharp lives and […]

F. John Sharp When The Future Was More Fun It used to be that a dystopian movie or book would be a chance to think, “There’s no way we would ever let the world get like this,” yet here we are, with a front row seat to exactly how the world could get like that. […]

F. John Sharp Taking on Water  ‘No cats in lifeboats’ is the rule, and I can watch only seven more hulls splash into the icy green darkness, before I have to say goodbye or not. F. John Sharp lives in Cleveland, works at real estate, and writes about things that pop into his little brain. […]

F. John Sharp Cryptozoological Stressors Scientists use high tech toys to flush out Nessie in a faraway loch, while locals’ bank accounts wish they would all just go away without not finding her.  F. John Sharp is nearly old enough to drop that pretentious ‘F’ from his name, and edits the tiny fiction division of the arts […]

F. John Sharp Gong is harder than it looks when you are asked to strike just once a thirty six inch disc of brass with a twelve ounce beater, in a passage that is quieter than a whisper, knowing too hard is obnoxious, too gentle is dead air, and the director has, in the past, […]

F. John Sharp I draw with this red crayon hearts, like boy-giddy schoolgirls in study hall pretending love is forever, practicing the entwining of initials like limbs, when all they need to know about adulthood is you shouldn’t have to sit alone in Denny’s with a red crayon drawing hearts. F. John Sharp lives and […]