skip to main
|
skip to sidebar
poetry and prose by stephen chute
Friday, December 25, 2020
why isn't it everywhere
why does
kindness surprise us
these days.
the held door,
the dollar given,
generosity in general,
unselfishness.
why are
we astounded
at a good heart
that crosses
our path.
a truly spiritual being
seems rare
these days.
why isn't it
everywhere?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Followers
Blog Archive
►
2024
(1129)
►
May
(68)
►
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)
new years eve
send me a memo
the flight attendant
untidy lives
trauma
the melted candle
getting permission
i don't have your back
a name in the dust
we all make mistakes
we always know
her string in a ball
quick on the trigger
finishing the book
the ending of another year
what's it going to be
anniversaries
what's below the surface
next in black ink
red sauce
let's go camping
it's friday
ringing in my ear
fare thee well
and by the way
tap water
what could be the harm
again with the orange light
raise the bar
i can't remember
driving all night
cow on the side of the road
i don't believe you
the old friends on the shelf
my weakness
the next stop
the measure of you
new worlds
cashing in
her flowered dress
where i've been
planning ahead
that looks like fun
i smell what you're cooking
living alone
when you find me
i think i know
a hundred poems or more
i consider this idea
the under tow
don't look pretty anymore
the easy test
the clean window
getting a physical
the under sharers
no returns
really, this is nothing
too early to end things
the fare
pardoned
home for christmas
borrowed books
i make use of the cold
the melting
something i remember well
the end of turkey
the marriage proposal
why isn't it everywhere
don't roll your eyes at me
around 2 p.m.
christmas snow
the dead santa
california time
the soundtrack
we dance all night
what isn't there
a summer peach
more important things
enough, enough of this life
the new is not so new anymore
the empty vase
come sit beside me
as the water freezes
the blue mailbox
morning prayer
what is myrrh anyway?
home for the holdiays
the box of crayons
too early, i thought
white out
in the sandbox
the daily news
jiggle it
a place we can go
have you heard the news
let's stay up all night
scrambled eggs
what the world needs now
secret santa
clean the slate
►
November
(338)
►
October
(242)
►
September
(200)
►
August
(204)
►
July
(191)
►
June
(132)
►
May
(143)
►
April
(170)
►
March
(186)
►
February
(221)
►
January
(207)
►
2019
(2076)
►
December
(274)
►
November
(233)
►
October
(233)
►
September
(194)
►
August
(190)
►
July
(233)
►
June
(190)
►
May
(162)
►
April
(105)
►
March
(120)
►
February
(77)
►
January
(65)
►
2018
(1227)
►
December
(101)
►
November
(92)
►
October
(52)
►
September
(95)
►
August
(88)
►
July
(82)
►
June
(120)
►
May
(140)
►
April
(84)
►
March
(113)
►
February
(116)
►
January
(144)
►
2017
(1776)
►
December
(171)
►
November
(169)
►
October
(151)
►
September
(156)
►
August
(180)
►
July
(201)
►
June
(122)
►
May
(105)
►
April
(121)
►
March
(123)
►
February
(124)
►
January
(153)
►
2016
(2663)
►
December
(131)
►
November
(160)
►
October
(185)
►
September
(203)
►
August
(256)
►
July
(236)
►
June
(262)
►
May
(263)
►
April
(274)
►
March
(321)
►
February
(174)
►
January
(198)
►
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