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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Friday, November 3, 2023
too tired to go out
this soup,
a thin
broth with a bone,
a few
carrots,
with slender slices
of celery,
afloat
won't fill me up.
but it's all
i have for now.
no bread and butter,
no milk,
no meat on the table.
it's just
this soup to get me
through
the hour.
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A Rosebud moment
you can't handle the truth
they don't even know we're lying
life is funny like that
the winning tickets
go fly a kite
the animal house
got milk
bricks through the window
and if elected
the clean car road trip
we're so so sorry
buying a second home
fall in love that way
get over yourself
going carnivore
the glue of us
please God, no bubbles
the guilt phone call
a box of stockings
next years resolution
Merry, whoops, i mean happy holidays
three times around
the lost Christmas card
scraping ice in the morning
another day another march
as we drive by
beyond the clouds
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maybe tomorrow
surrender
smaller portions
as you get things done
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more than a few regrets
Christmas in July
the holiday dazed and confused
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with a scoop of vanilla icecream
none of it my plan
circle the lake
when they play you
the dwindling Christmas card list
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dial 911
never leaving the nest
is this who they think i am?
it's a good place
making sandwiches for the PCH team
get used to it
forgiving lateness
pumpkin old spice aftershave
so, what have we learned?
just shut up
the meaning of gifts
Innagodadavita
the Sibley Emergency Room
the airplane ruckus
the middle ground
thank you for our bounty
the pale girl in the shade
winter is best
the dodge dart swinger 1970
whatever melts your butter
the fifteen cent raise
for a brief delirious moment
open the windows
What's up with Ming?
mayhem at the market
whenever you're ready, come on back
the lemon cake travels
you're part of it too
time to regift
settling on the snow globe
the street clinic
the gift of giving
the hour glass
you can't tell anymore
the strangers that i know
holiday traffic
the nine to five carrot
the wedding album
day two of a ten day cruise
getting a fresh start
adorable and fun
black coffee
they want us to be happy, Dad
we too can be a fool
our ant hills
three trips past midnight
flowers on flowers
what's wrong with this picture
a flip of the coin
just turn the page
someone like you
finding your island
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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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