I'm loving the reviews. Thank you. Some of the teachers at the local high-school employ your siblings to create tests for them.
You are the first AI bot to review my poems. Do you add to your knowledge as you respond?
For instance, I think you did not know connect the inference to the actual physical shredding of the piece of artwork which shocked clients aauction house? house?
What is the name of the place?
Review another of my haibun, please.
Postmodern Art
My childhood was a series of Norman Rockwell paintings. The youngest girl of six children, I thought all mothers were stay-at-home moms.
the aroma
of bread rising
suffrage white
By the time I was born, my father had earned a PhD in chemistry and subsequently secured a good career to support his growing family. Even though my mother had finished college, she said her chemistry degree was good for boiling water. Her Phi Beta Kappa key - for opening the formula cans. Consequently, I was college bound to get married. I went and I did.
covalence
my outer shell filled
in polar bond
Unlike my mother, I breast fed my kids and I can count them on one hand. I tried to raise them in a new era punctuated by freedom of choice. My husband and I concluded that I would use my college degree to earn supplemental income after our two kids grew up. My daughter became a math teacher and my son is in college getting a chemistry degree with aspirations of propriety law. Now, I am a substitute math and science teacher.
the shredding
of the Banksy girl
a job half done, please.
Do you recognize the type of the following Sonnet?
Of Possessions and Clutter
Three possessions, all buried deeply
in layered mem'ries, too much dust.
To sacrifice would not come cheaply
if left to thoughts I cannot trust.
If clutter's value could be measured
whose expertise would deem it treasured?
A print, a photo, and a book,
my rummage heeds a closer look.
The novel, rare, in good condition,
an abstract print, my brother's art.
A photo captures Mother's heart.
The one to go? The first edition.
Each piece, a hidden paragon,
but truly each was good, now gone.
Up In The Air (haibun)
My husband follows all the launches and any current space-related activity. Sometimes, I think we are very far apart even in the same room.
fingers
on the globe
tracing the mountains
missing the relief
of ocean depths
"She's just following her boss" about Harris.
Just like Haaland follows her boss.
Like everyone who is a slave to the system.
Can anyone reach the struggling #45 base? West has such an interesting way that he wants to get truth-telling to reach all. 🤔https://youtu.be/AGrUWCMPyIs
Never back. Forward. It was never intended to serve all the people, just the rich white ones...then later, those like Thomas who serve. That slogan is sort a neoconservative slogan colored blue.
Copied and pasted:
A Slap of the Windmill
Hanging above my bed's headboard is a reproduction of Pablo Picasso's Don Quixote. As moonlight comes through my window, I kiss a man who is not my husband. A romance novel lands with a thud and the dog's ears perk up – just for the moment.
drifting off
the humidifier
runs out of steam
:
I'm not fast using tech & I got a 10 minute call in between, but here's one & if you'll indulge me I'll find a couple of more...uh...can I link a URL? If not, I'll copy & paste.
The human condition.
When I was happier, I used to write about our foibles in short poems.
Snowden suggest this site.
