skip to main
|
skip to sidebar
poetry and prose by stephen chute
Monday, August 26, 2019
tomorrow
she folds
herself to sleep.
pulling tight the blanket.
the world
is still.
there is dreaming to be done.
tomorrow, too fast.
it comes.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Followers
Blog Archive
►
2024
(2513)
►
November
(57)
►
October
(229)
►
September
(231)
►
August
(235)
►
July
(224)
►
June
(233)
►
May
(243)
►
April
(218)
►
March
(248)
►
February
(258)
►
January
(337)
►
2023
(3264)
►
December
(285)
►
November
(259)
►
October
(265)
►
September
(299)
►
August
(269)
►
July
(334)
►
June
(297)
►
May
(283)
►
April
(223)
►
March
(295)
►
February
(238)
►
January
(217)
►
2022
(2882)
►
December
(319)
►
November
(241)
►
October
(215)
►
September
(167)
►
August
(199)
►
July
(209)
►
June
(249)
►
May
(216)
►
April
(269)
►
March
(257)
►
February
(252)
►
January
(289)
►
2021
(3094)
►
December
(244)
►
November
(264)
►
October
(248)
►
September
(219)
►
August
(219)
►
July
(221)
►
June
(245)
►
May
(259)
►
April
(302)
►
March
(284)
►
February
(242)
►
January
(347)
►
2020
(2595)
►
December
(361)
►
November
(338)
►
October
(242)
►
September
(200)
►
August
(204)
►
July
(191)
►
June
(132)
►
May
(143)
►
April
(170)
►
March
(186)
►
February
(221)
►
January
(207)
▼
2019
(2074)
►
December
(274)
►
November
(233)
►
October
(232)
►
September
(193)
▼
August
(190)
a slight pause
washing dishes
an act of love
life is good
it's getting there
not everything is said
welcome the night
for the good times
Nine O'clock
an old number
i believed her
not made for this
limitations
tomorrow
hug the shore
two week holiday
the promise
post card from fla.
the printer
before the snow
last request
family outing
perusing
is it tuesday?
when we get there
let cramp
the ice cream melting
the massage
one more meal
something new
the neighborhood cult
leaving the door open
hardly time to sin anymore
cheers
we do the best we can
the 25 dollar short story
i remember everything
honeymoon in mexico
walking backwards
finger in the wound
we found something
small store
still here
dog days
do as we say
hole in the cup
the one star movie
post card from LA
a long time ago
biding my time
something new to write about
monkey in a banana tree
back from mars
a kiss goodnight
pink in the middle
work and love
lean into it
short note to the shrink
choosing to become
forever stuck
the passing storm
it can go either way
the tuna caserole
the fortune teller
the hamster cage
giving birth
laminated affirmations
moon beam
crazy town
step back
our addictions
i be the man
the new chair
her new book of poems
being like this
the moving parts
there is a snap
the bed is an ocean.
the lights are all green
three jobs
whose turn is it
hearing voices
a talk with the inner child
the authentic self
the only way out is through
the old friends
some to give away.
surf's up
the heavy box of us
the spin cycle
spice
write me a poem
the fresh wound
bed time reading
beneath the cloth
the rest of life
emotional gum
wise guy
say nothing
spare change
►
July
(233)
►
June
(190)
►
May
(162)
►
April
(105)
►
March
(120)
►
February
(77)
►
January
(65)
►
2018
(1224)
►
December
(101)
►
November
(92)
►
October
(52)
►
September
(95)
►
August
(87)
►
July
(82)
►
June
(120)
►
May
(140)
►
April
(84)
►
March
(112)
►
February
(116)
►
January
(143)
►
2017
(1775)
►
December
(171)
►
November
(169)
►
October
(151)
►
September
(156)
►
August
(180)
►
July
(201)
►
June
(122)
►
May
(104)
►
April
(121)
►
March
(123)
►
February
(124)
►
January
(153)
►
2016
(2658)
►
December
(131)
►
November
(160)
►
October
(184)
►
September
(203)
►
August
(256)
►
July
(236)
►
June
(262)
►
May
(262)
►
April
(272)
►
March
(321)
►
February
(174)
►
January
(197)
►
2015
(1839)
►
December
(153)
►
November
(144)
►
October
(127)
►
September
(113)
►
August
(137)
►
July
(134)
►
June
(160)
►
May
(161)
►
April
(151)
►
March
(185)
►
February
(176)
►
January
(198)
►
2014
(2208)
►
December
(210)
►
November
(198)
►
October
(195)
►
September
(274)
►
August
(256)
►
July
(178)
►
June
(173)
►
May
(146)
►
April
(160)
►
March
(147)
►
February
(134)
►
January
(137)
►
2013
(1558)
►
December
(99)
►
November
(106)
►
October
(122)
►
September
(103)
►
August
(98)
►
July
(122)
►
June
(156)
►
May
(114)
►
April
(139)
►
March
(131)
►
February
(161)
►
January
(207)
►
2012
(1846)
►
December
(195)
►
November
(196)
►
October
(221)
►
September
(139)
►
August
(165)
►
July
(158)
►
June
(159)
►
May
(154)
►
April
(122)
►
March
(130)
►
February
(114)
►
January
(93)
►
2011
(1420)
►
December
(71)
►
November
(79)
►
October
(101)
►
September
(112)
►
August
(96)
►
July
(109)
►
June
(114)
►
May
(139)
►
April
(135)
►
March
(143)
►
February
(134)
►
January
(187)
►
2010
(1401)
►
December
(171)
►
November
(153)
►
October
(92)
►
September
(113)
►
August
(137)
►
July
(177)
►
June
(157)
►
May
(126)
►
April
(69)
►
March
(83)
►
February
(67)
►
January
(56)
►
2009
(230)
►
December
(46)
►
November
(42)
►
October
(46)
►
September
(60)
►
August
(36)
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
No comments:
Post a Comment