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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, November 10, 2024
the celebration
it's the blue
air
of November,
the fresh
oxygen
of autumn filling
your lungs.
it's a joyous day
of celebration
when your
side has won.
common sense at
last
prevails,
though some
are in shock
therapy
and have become
quite glum.
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they want him gone
what a specimen you are
the twenty minute rule
reading the room
the culinary road map
searching for real news
food for a week
i remember you
she always ate last
eating pancakes like a lumberjack
slow bites
the daily dings
nails down a chalkboard
before we trim the tree
why worry?
the do not call registry list
at the movies with tiny tank
the long path into the woods
taking flight after looking in
Georgia's German Chocolate cake
from a mother's arms
Beyonce and Oprah need your money
waiting for my turn to talk
calling dibs early, on a leg
the online therapy session
i'll take those pajamas as a clue
toasting in the new year
self-diagnosis at seven a.m.
Sunday morning bells
one book in you
the Jamaican tree frog
in the midnight hour
back to pen and paper
it's health
not all of them have red hair
the four-tiered shoe rack
the upper hand of silence
who's running this place?
the police report
dark or white meat
dropping the f bomb because i dropped the butter
The Elon wife
the home invasion
God's fault again
hospital food
diminishing skills
by the way, the world is about to end
the poisoned pen
the morning splash of cold water
the big brown Idaho potato
body language
my ten year old could have done a better job
the last one to leave
what exactly do they all do?
once slice at a time
i can't get off this train
stealing poetry
small potatoes in hand
the fire alarm again
when the ex-wife returns
no need to make a list
the out the door price
the election hangover
maybe tomorrow?
doing the dishes
buyers remorse
just my style
finally turning the heat on
the wet envelopes
we still have time to decide
horses and girls
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what about carrots, mom?
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what's in a name
a pill for everything but common sense
and in the end, they'll know
everything going south
click here, on this link
paying out hush money
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the lovers path
practice run
a little mystery
painting your nails black
splendid isolation
my left hand
dead batteries
waiting for Clooney to tell us what to do
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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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