Best Bump On A Log Poems | Poetry

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The Best Bump On A Log Poems

Details | Bump On A Log Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Million Thanks

I was searching my mind for a theme to choose
for my very first poem of the year
turns out it was an easy choice
to thank some friends who I hold so dear.

I've never met any one of these folks
but I consider them friends none-the-less
I established their friendship on Poetry Soup
and I consider them all the best.

For their kind and generous comments
to express how I feel is real tough
the right words really escape me
I just can't thank them enough.

There's Sweetheart, Bob and Larry
Wilma, DR Ram and Barbara G.
Debra, Andrea and Sara
who have all been so gracious to me.

p.d., John F. and Hitendra
Carolyn, Carol and Francine
C.L., Audrey and Doris
all friends who I've never seen.

If it weren't for all these nice people
I would have given up a long time ago
Their encouragement made me keep trying
and helped me much more than they know.

When retired you tend to get dormant
just sit sleeping or watching T.V.
till I got involved with Poetry Soup
that's what was happening to me.

I don't want my brain to retire
it needs to be active for sure
My writing and the challenging contests
help my brain to endure.

So I thank all you wonderful Soupers
believe me you are the best
you kept me from becoming a bump-on-a-log
of that I will attest.

There are others who I haven't mentioned by name
I hope no one feels slighted
cause everyone I've ever dealt with
I've always been highly delighted.

A Healthy and Happy New Year to you all!





Copyright © RALPH TAYLOR | Year Posted 2011


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Gypsy Winds

Gypsy winds, wind their way across deserts and plains; whip the tumbleweeds and sands into a frenzy. Nomad scorpions roam dunes alone, burrowing deep, to escape a tempestuous sirocco. In lonely places cacti sentinels stand vigilant day and night; the magic within them, untapped by humans. Only a few know the secrets of desolate places; fewer still, those of their own backyard. Observation, in its purest form, is a rare practice; most people live on the Earth, not in it. Participate in life and it will broaden the mind. Expand your knowledge, with the senses and insight; wisdom is bestowed, as a reward. A bump on a log, never gives, but stagnates. The winds of change, reveal secrets to the open ear; listen carefully, to those gypsy winds.


Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015


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Respectfully, Emily Dickinson

I’m somebody!  Who are you?
Are you somebody too?
Then there’s a pair of us – do tell!
We must advertise – you know!

How dreary to be nobody!
More worthless than a frog
Who without a name - croaks all day
To be a bump on a log!

In response to:  Emily Dickinson’s poem – I’m nobody! Who are you?



Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2008


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Oh Happy Day

Oh Happy Day, when you were born.
For many years, my heart did mourn.
Childless I lived amid the throng.
Watching mothers rush children along.
Alone in a restaurant, twirling the ice –
Little girls with bows looking so nice
Brothers and sisters laughing out loud
While childless I sat amid the crowd.
Primary children would sing sweet songs.
Mothers would lovingly hum along.
Boys on the playground would tackle their dog.
I, like the old cliché, a bump on a log.
Watching, with my heart breaking.
Dreaming with memories aching.
I lost my first child before he was born.
Year after year, my mind was forlorn.
But then, it happened; you were on your way.
I prayerfully waited day by day.
Five and a half months within me growing.
Proudly knowing, greatly showing.
Then came six and I felt some relief.
Then, when you were born, you erased my grief.
I became a mother and not just a wife.
Your live birth, my child, 
Became the happiest day of my life.

© December 23, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Form: Narrative with rhyme


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010


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Nancy

When I was eight years old, Nancy a stringy-haired blond, chose me to be her playmate.  She idolized horses and always played "horsey" with me.  Since I didn't know a horse from a dog in those days, the game was mostly Nancy acting like a horse and me standing around like "a bump on a log," and watching her prance around.  She knew all the horse sounds too and what they meant:  the neighing, nickering, snorting and sighing.

recess
kids swing laughing at us
bell rinngs

She was a gifted artist recognized for her drawings and one of her horse portraits won a regional contest!  She also wrote poetry about horses--strikingly good for a pre-teen   I never forgot her even though our friendship waned as we got older.  I would write her a sonnet years later.  . .


well endowed
older teen boys chased her
for a feel


Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015


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Water lily ballet

Fish swim closer,
To the lily girl,
Who dances on her flower,
They watch her twirl,
She touches the water,
With her toes,
Where the ripples go,
Nobody knows,
Music in air,
She fights off the fog,
That begs her to sit,
Like a bump on a log,
It slows her small fish,
And makes them all groggy,
Then after she dances,
Their minds are not foggy,
Her grace is smooth,
And her petals are bright,
She protects the fish,
That are too small to fight,
She watches the water,
And dances all day,
Come to the pond for,
A water lily ballet.


Copyright © jezabella singe | Year Posted 2012


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I'm Somebody

I’m somebody!  Who are you?
Are you somebody too?
Then there’s a pair of us – do tell!
We must advertise – you know!

How dreary to be nobody!
More worthless than a frog
Who without a name - croaks all day
To be a bump on a log!


For:  Brian Strand’s Adaptation contest
        Poet :  Emily Dickinson
        Poem:  I’m Nobody


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2009


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My God Will Provide

I want to go to college.
I want to go this fall.
I want to have the knowledge
to not go with my back up against the wall.

I need to find more money.
I need to get a second job. 
I could stay here where it’s sunny,
but I’d continue to sit here like a bump on a log.

I hope my mom will be okay, if I go, 
while I’m away.
I hope my dad will pay his bills,
and not one of them delay.

I pray that God will guide me.
I pray He’ll keep me safe.
I pray I’ll hear His calling.
I pray I’ll have more faith.

I will go to college. 
I will go this fall.
I will go and trust my God.
He will catch me if I fall.


Copyright © Brittani Hunter | Year Posted 2007


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Before Computers

Do you remember before computers
We actually spoke with each other
We cared whenever our kids got sick
And knew the address of our mother

Today we sit at our laptops all day
Surrounded by dirty old dishes
Wearing clothes from a two weeks ago
Smelling like a kettle of fishes

What is this crazy old world coming to
Lost sight of the things that matter
Like how many kids we had at last count
Or that we're thirty pound fatter!

We sit like a proverbial bump on a log
Our words incoherent and slurred
All kinds of animals are running about
Your pet cat just ate your pet bird

Maybe one day in a decade of two
They'll discover what once was a human
Propped in front of an ancient computer
In his ears petunias will be bloomin'

© Jack Ellison 2012


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012


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Who Loves Life

Those who love life, put up your hands
Now let me see, hey you in the back
Don't just sit there like a bump on a log
You're either with us or against us, mac!

You gotta grab life by the proverbial horns
And wrestle it down to the ground
Gotta stomp on it and show it who's boss
Ain't nothing gonna push you around!

Now that's the stuff, I'm hearing you roar
Like you're catching the spirit now
Let's all go out and celebrate life
Let's romp through the fields with the cows!

Okay, maybe that's a bit much for you
But I think you're catching my meaning
Think positive always look on the bright side
Even though your bod may be leaning!

Those who love life, put up your hands
Don't be shy, it's an honour to know you
Together we can show all those naysayers
We'll chase away those nasty blues!


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012


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The Fish and the Frog

"You're frightfully fat," said the fish to the frog,
"and yet you just sit there, a bump on a log."

Frog opened one eye, looked back at the fish,
"In stillness I'm granted my ultimate wish.
If I sit very still," he said with a shrug,
"I'm able to capture the best tasting bugs."

Said the frog, with a wink, "If you think I am lazy,
I'd answer, it's better than swimming like crazy!"

"Well," said the fish, "I can dart like a flash,
and sometimes jump high and make a big splash!"

"How thrilling," said the frog, with a nod and a yawn,
"but I can swim in the water AND hop on the lawn.
It's the best of both worlds," he said with a croak,
"now do go away like a good little bloke."

"Well, I'm glad that you're happy," his fish scales gleamed,
"Cause your face is the ugliest I've ever seen!"

And, with that, the fish swam quickly away,
and the old frog just smiled, for what could he say?


©Danielle White


Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009


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Be Yourself

I am not a wealthy person –
I am not a beauty queen.
I don’t have eternal youth
and my overall purpose is yet to be seen.

I am not an accomplished athlete 
or a famous star.
I tend to be quite ordinary
and I certainly don’t drive a fancy car.

I tend to be quite moody
and am easily depressed.
I don’t make friends easily
and some days it’s a struggle, simply to get dressed.

I like to spend my time alone
and hang out with my dog.
I am not very good at socializing –
In fact, I’ve often been called a “bump on a log.”

But recently I was enlightened -
By a man who looked me in the eye.
He told that wanting everyone the same
is really just a big lie.

He said we need to be ourselves
and who we were meant to be.
That trying to be like everyone else 
will only bring misery.

So go forth now 
and rid yourself of despair -
Because only when you are happy with you – 
You won’t want to hide out in your lair.

Don’t be sorry
and do not apologize – 
Just be the best you 
and a happy life, you will realize.


Copyright © Susan Banks | Year Posted 2006


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Son, Say Goodnight To Grandpa - part 2

originally my intent to expound on memories 
   when paternal grandfather erode
out to said residence, and averse to expand horizons 
   asthma late mum didst goad
him (in vain) to commingle, find intelligent links 
   analogous to electronic signals communicating ip node
 but this towheaded grandson, 
   merely excited when me daddy's papa 

   came to this figurative antipode,   
where pegged back in time 
   when this elderly regal family member
   only a half decades shy, 

   whence benchmarked by horse drawn carriages rode
but more to the point, twas how eager 
   to toy with the wristwatch (analog) 
which chained metal links wore a temporary imprint 
   upon his aged skin – dog  

head lee remaining even departure time arrive 
   for favorite boyhood relative, 
   which when a kid also glee at occasions 
   treasuring older folk gave me a frog   
tiled toy (sliding puzzle) that required dexterity 
   moving pieces fastly secured, 

   which when complete always left me agog 
and this, that or some other gewgaw, souvinir, trinket 
   (plus a bit of chump change given to me) 
   spurred me late mum to spark me mental cog
to say “good morning”, “good afternoon”, 
   “goodnight”, or when eggnog

proffered to this most senior chronological guest, 
   who sat at the head of table, 
   or blankly watching television like a bump on a log
while chided, forced, induced...
   to parlay social graces from this mere pollywog 
who (much as delight arose fussing 
   with trappings worn loss on atrophied flesh)
   a skittishness found me averse to follow orders 
   as if I happened to be a petsmart dog.




Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017