Recommended by Steven G. Martin

Earnest and sweet, "Three Drunk Poets Find God" is imaginative praise of college-age friendships, daffy plans to complete class assignments, alcohol, and poetry.

Chris Gacinski hits just the right notes in this 10-minute comedy: the frustrations of academic work, the joy of experiencing other people's perspectives, and the easy argumentative banter among friends.

Producing this short play would be easy, and actors and directors would love to explore the characters and their relationships.

This one stings a bit.

A father's genuine pride in his young son's balletic skills quickly withers. Toxic beliefs about masculinity aren't expressed -- even through obviously passive-aggressive questions -- just by men.

I love that Jake Lewis so quickly creates a loving, supportive perspective for the Man in "Dance Dad." In just a few lines, that strength shows. Which makes the ending and the abandonment of pride all the more sad.

This monologue seduces, indulges, and panders to its audience, wrapping up a gift of perfection -- complete with catchphrases and verbal spectacle.

Glen Dickson's Graham, the protagonist in "Fuck Being Good," tempts and promises the world for just the slightest of costs. He's dangerous, he's obvious, but he's seductive and how are you going to resist?

Resist anyway. But know what it is you're resisting against. A fine, dangerous, inciting monologue. "Fuck Being Good" may be a perfect play for 2017-2021 at least.

This marvelous farce starts off at a high point and only accelerates and picks up momentum through its minute-long run.

Mark Harvey Levine knows comedy, and it shows in "That Word": rhythm and repetition, people behaving badly, momentum, a button line that brings it all together. It's very funny, it's pointed, and it deserves the rich, robust, production history that it's earned.

"That Word" will be a standout in any one-minute festival.

Great music moves us, literally and figuratively.

Juniper McKelvie's short monologue tells the speaker's story of lucid dreams, Buenos Aires, and the wonderful, moving music of Gustavo Cerati. There is such earnest pleasure being shared, "I Dream of Gustavo Cerati" feels like something a person tells her best friend in order to relive the joy.

Wonderfully magical, joyous, and filled with poetic language and earnest emotion.

Oh, the things we try to convince ourselves about, even when we know they aren't true.

Juniper McKelvie has created a short monologue about a person's relationship with food that would play well at outdoor venues like food truck locations or parks, or indoor restaurants once they're available.

McKelvie allows the Dieter to move through several emotional stages of her new relationship with food, each more extreme than the one before. The painful thing is that audiences will understand there's pain and loss there.

"Third Circle of Hell. Or, Gluttons Anonymous" will serve a powerhouse actor well.

A man attempts to repair a long-broken relationship at the worst possible time in this one-act play.

I love Scott Sickles' plays because they focus on relationships, including several -- not all -- that are romantic relationships. He puts his characters and their relationships through a wringer, however: they're either destroyed and decaying, or on the verge of it. And the characters say or do things to make things worse.

In "Manly Men Doing Manly Things," I just want Les and Doug to right the ship. It's deeply emotional drama between two gay men, and I love it.

Dread and fear fill Clay's bedroom like a chilly fog, and Vince Gatton skillfully increases them throughout this scary, thrilling short drama.

I feel Clay's desperation throughout, his need to be heard and understood, his anger at being mollified. Such pain, fear, a sense of being alone -- it was almost too much to bear. And then Gatton took this short play in unexpected directions to great conclusion.

"Cassie Strickland is Not Under the Bed" is one of Gatton's anthology plays with ties to a tragic central event, whose effects ripple for years. Wonderful breadth of writing.

Entire lives of loved ones, winnowed down to artifacts that puzzle the protagonists in this short play.

I love the moods I felt reading Sheila Cowley's "Duck" -- joy knowing that Jamie's and Casey's relatives had lovely, lively salad days; wistfulness in wishing some of the history of these wonderful items could be explained (a red hibiscus dress? a Bowie knife? a curry comb? a painting of a duck?), but knowing they could not; and pleasure in how Jamie's feelings toward these items change. "Not all of it."

Another layered, complex, subtle play by Cowley.

A genuine, sweet, burgeoning romance for the stage.

What I especially love about Matthew Weaver's "A Lot A Lot" is that the characters who realize they are in love are in their forties. To see two mature people on stage discovering that they love one another is miraculous and heartwarming and cheer-worthy. Romantic opportunities don't wither away and disappear because of age. Thank you, Matthew.

Had Irma and Myron been teens, yes, the story would still be lovely, but that extra detail provided only in the list of characters just makes "A Lot A Lot" that much richer.