skip to main
|
skip to sidebar
poetry and prose by stephen chute
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
plenty to say
the unhinged have plenty to say.
you see
them on the street
cloaked in
everything they own
talking
to someone,
to no one, but deep into
the conversation.
their hands fly, their eyes
are wide open,
as the winds full of blackbirds
brush by.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Followers
Blog Archive
►
2024
(2928)
►
December
(215)
►
November
(257)
►
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)
the trap is set
just one kiss
the note left behind
you need to sign for this
the debate
it is here
without warning
please fasten your seat belts
delicate creatures
if only i'd been...
at the shoreline
that new car smell
the carrot
what you desire
beyond the hills
it's best in bed
atlantic movie theater
small talk emoji
I Can Do This
that will never change
starting today
within
3 a.m.
the path out
from the watchtower
the reunion
out of room
she reminds me of you
is it tuesday?
short bread
the deepening snow
what awaits
nine lives
letting go of others
the flickering light
cleaning gutters
the white out cocktail
from the great beyond
in the morning she rises
going to hell on a speed pass
the drip the drip the drip
far out
delivering the news
dear girl
indigo
get the hell off my lawn
my dream to be a lifeguard
the sex talk
who's your daddy?
is that even a face?
sound and fury
Time Share This
when tomorrow comes
there were so few
till death do us part
the morning fix
maybe
baking love
nap time
french three
leaving things behind
no need to wave
the quick mart
the blue notes
getting the wrinkles out
beet soup
the apple butter festival
don't take a bite
her one true love
but all seemed well
not everyone gets chosen
the beauty of tears
final words
a field of flowers
unconditional love
no different than them
it's only monday
things you don't want to hear
the book report
a penny for your thoughts
coffee wisdom
finding sleep
everything i feared
at most three
waking up in ireland
what came before
life in the moment
sorry tennyson
cold bump in the road
the amber moon
what we had is dead
the end of the world
have you seen our waiter
what's worse
guitar man
nehi orange drink
the happy people
pondering what's next
happy birthday
silence is best
►
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)
►
July
(233)
►
June
(190)
►
May
(162)
►
April
(105)
►
March
(120)
►
February
(77)
►
January
(65)
►
2018
(1223)
►
December
(101)
►
November
(92)
►
October
(52)
►
September
(95)
►
August
(86)
►
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