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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
the blue blade
it all
depends on this
shovel.
this
blue blade.
where to dig, what
to bury.
what to
uncover, or leave it
as is
and let
nature run
its course.
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something new
it's up here
around
thirty years
the weight lifter
the luncheon
the playground
surrender and let go
just drive
lost and found
the birds keep singing
uncommon sense
one last round
the carnival
the blue blade
who owns you
regret
your life
if it's not one thing
down the drain
lines in the sand
parents
friday night
the kitchen window
blue river stone
no looking back
nothing is lost
the bonfire
the small dog
smoke and mirrors
almost there
bling
let go and surrender
before midnight
tomorrow is another day
thinking of gin
hindsight
the false sigh
sail on
a blue period
no changes
the past
more
yellow balloon
another try
i'll be waiting
hacked into
the cat in morning
it's not far from here
still here
waiting in the rain
a new light
half in
the broken pipe
busy
time alone
cigarette
places other than home
salt water taffy
the postman
morning comes too soon
a dish of time
examination
the beach trip
it smells like rain
it went by like that
monday is not far off
one chair
the after life
fine dining
a world of this
the oak tree
it's hard to believe
foreign film
the pause
rain check
she lights my fuse
just a phase
on the lamb
the island
the rotten apple
the white flag
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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