the workshop
is hard.
the words come out of these
hands,
those hands,
those minds and hearts.
leaves
on trees fluttering
down
in the autumn of their
lives.
dreams
of fame, of fortune
don't appear, just a nice
word or two,
well done,
we like it, can't
wait to read more,
is all most
of us want to hear.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Followers
Blog Archive
-
▼
2018
(1224)
-
▼
October
(52)
- crab world
- the unseen sun
- the wheel
- near love
- a slow death
- the pull
- the carrying
- Holy Help
- going full Hazel
- lost and found
- black bottom cake
- the farewell party
- the fix
- awaken and rise
- i need a parade
- a winters story
- to be home
- the horses pull all day at the plow. the earth nee...
- another blue bird
- the porch swing
- to sleep
- going to mars
- unlearned
- skin and bones beside you
- creative writing
- the waiting
- around and around
- let it begin
- the empty streets
- born into this
- sleep
- all me
- the night
- cooking and kissing
- more cake
- gone south
- we say things
- free flight
- out of reach
- photo shopped
- get out while you're young
- so happy i could burst
- what was that all about
- out of the storm
- work shop
- there's still time
- the blue bird
- the barrel fire
- the future
- a bed full of feathers
- the blue of night
- quiet
-
▼
October
(52)
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment