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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Thursday, August 5, 2021
a spilled memory
call it therapy,
call it madness, call it a way
out
of this world.
to pen it down.
corral it in some shape,
some form.
to make a stain
that will not go away
upon the page.
a spilled memory. i like
that.
let's call it that
and move on.
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what's your second favorite color?
that's not very Christian of you
packing egg salad sandwiches
reason to live
the first fallen leaf
the state of men
don't answer that
life in a can
the sparrow with specs
her knight in shining armor
when we need something
going electric
leading a horse to water
how will she rise
forever is shorter than it used to be
before we sleep
don't hurt anyone
intelligent design
where and what time?
are you a family man?
one last look
safe and sound
she needed alone time
the new toaster oven
it means nothing
the cross roads
denial comes first
just one plague away
she finally agreed
so, you live alone?
her puzzles
ruminations
decorating for spring
early karma
we got to get out of this place
pretending to eat pasta
how come you never visit?
the ice cold beer
we can't imagine being old
what light shineth in yonder window, yo
what the rain does
slippery times
the unquenchable well
the good old days
the bug bite
witches and goblins
raise your arm, honey
life is good
she kept reading
what to wear
for the best
the cherry tree
in the other room
i've made up my mind
crossing the line
words to sleep with
no
what's to come next
the best meal ever
rooms available by the hour
i'm on hold
kiss me like a stranger
the carnival ride
be the cat
the meal time prayer
the short life
sugar daddy dot com
that about sums it up
too much of a good thing
what endears us
just one more day
what love isn't
a house of her own
if you could read my mind
labels and tags
the fun times
with feet off the ground
lowered expectations
1984 is now
Drama Free and Low Maintenance
the game
rain check
it was so much fun
before eight a.m.
the delayed response
the rainy season
mono vision
those you love
oh well
sediment and silt
houses spinning in the air
the grapevine
the business of forgiveness
he was a quiet man
the pink room
some stay the same
seeing is believing
the need for anger
illumination
handle with care
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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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