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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Wednesday, April 3, 2024
the mood we're in
so much
is the mood we're in,
the side
of the bed
we get up on.
the gloom
of rain, or the smile
of sun,
so much of what we
do and think
relies upon
where we are in heart
and head,
when taking
that first step out
the door,
to get things done.
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not again, how can this be?
the bongo is a good choice for protest marches
finding Sylvia
the pretty fruit
the rudderless ship
three cups by noon
zoo mornings
where are the grown ups?
necessary Rx
the fish fry
summer margaritas
strangely, we get along
patching things up
the marching sheep of ignorance
shrinkage
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deciding our future through dodge ball
we're still here
the faces of hate and fear
sailing towards morning
captured in time
the bird cage
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my grandmother's protests
just a rock
old people gambling
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social warriors
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hey mister
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37 percent chance of rain
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dear diary
she's in a taxi
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fifty percent chance of anything
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frayed friendships
hopefully with a scar
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finding clues to a disappearance
beauty is fading
getting it out of their system
the little things
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fatherly advice
i love them all equally
take two of these and call me in the morning
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a cult of one
life lessons
25 dollar gin and tonic
the firetrucks arrive
two poached eggs
no ticket needed
orphans
somehow, here we are
my apologies to celery
cry me a river
sunrise fishing
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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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