It’s the weekend! Time to share an American Sentence. It’s only 17 syllables — why not give it a whirl, or two, or three? Instead of sharing our sentences over at the American Sentences group this week, I thought we could try sharing them in the comments for this post. Let’s see how that goes.



Another weekend: I play a cantata and wait for you to call.
My son is studying a tiny book titled “Cheat Code Explosion!”
I am waiting for you to decide that I lack proper pedigree.
the more spring refuses to come back to me the colder winter seems.
The snow outside is like a blanket of quiet; press the mute button.
The Southern Comfort felt so warm going down… and now I sleep, goodnight
Grey Sunday morning.Ritual of bagels smoked salmon and coffee.
Lovely moon this morning, but chilly, blue. We both need our warm blankets.
Sucking on a frayed end of pink thread, my daughter strings beads one by one.
Add “huzzah” to any sentence to get to 17 syllables.
cold sore erupts, throbbing in time with pressurized ears & eyes, huzzah!
Saturday night and Sunday morning converge in a silent bathroom.
Sunday morning penance is not what it used to be, my Dear.
You touch me, hard enough to break the skin, with your bruising, tragic heart.
You can’t park that space junk there, said the moonster, writing out a ticket.
Dave told me he could see for forty miles, thought Dawn, how far is the sun?
Boxing clever, he thwarts the Times Square mugger, and heads home to the Bronx.
if you can’t jam, you don’t get no toast, so open up your mind and play…
The pot’s done berlin’ and the moon’s done shinin’- time to eat da gumbo.