Best Log Poems


Premium Member Log In

Come, my fellow humans,

Let us all Log In to the World Peace Program,

For to:

Obliterate war

Eliminate hunger

Enthrone justice, and

Establish universal brotherhood!


Password?


DIVINE LOVE!








© Demetrios Trifiatis
       18 April 2023

Premium Member Captains Log Book - July 16, 1798

Twere a   blisterin day, on da Fundy Bay, aboard da ‘ Black Angel of da Blue”, 
with a crew of 32, whilst resting a spell, wid a thunderin clap of grog ,
when da Jack o’ Cups , his Jib a hangin, spotted a Jolly Roger aft.

Aye!  ye coulda sinked me! When dem thar scallywags  gave chase.
 So we  pumped da bilge, droppin a load of crap in thar path, weighed anchor, 
turned three sheets to da wind and tried to outrun dem thar sprougs,
 but me mateys' deadlights twere blinded by da grog - 
as useless as dem thar lanlubbers, and soon dem thar scallywags
overhauled da ‘ Black Angel’.

So! wid a heave to, we blasted dem thar swabs wid da balls off da Brass Monkey...six pounders dey be, but nary-a-one hit da mark and nary a one came back. Dem thar scuffeys' didn’t aim ta sink us, fur da botty be all dey be wantin.

Arrr! Fur sur now we be black spotted,
 but I not be ready fur Davey Jones locker yet.
One more clap of thunder be what I be needin ta clear me groggy mind
 and figger a way outta dis hornwaggle.

So I spliced da mainbrace and it come ta me in a flash,
da only cargo we be a carryin be Rummmmmmmmmmmm. 
so we set dem thar kegs adrift and it wernt long afore dem thar 
sprougs was a drinkin grog and a fine time be had by all.

                                ~~~~~


Inspired by:  Paula Swanson's contest
Awarded:  Second Place

Author's Note:

In order to understand this narrative, you need to understand Pirate's language.  You can 
find it on the web - just type Pirate language in your search engine.
me
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Log Cabin Sex Life

I can’t help but wonder, about the blunder, of building a one room log cabin,
Where man and wife, lived a private life, ‘til kids became real, not imagined

With no partitions, or new additions, you’d think their sex life would run ashore.
But they both knew, how to make it through, by inventing a thing called the chore.

As each kid did sprout, pa had to go out, and think up a new job for the tot.
He soon realized, that for his farm’s size, there were more tots then jobs to be got.

And the matriarch, made the remark, that inside we plum ran out of space.
So they tried to rid, their house of kids, as fast as were made in the first place.

At last the last lad, made a nice lass glad, got married and had a grand party,
But pa had ma’s hind, right on his mind; they arrived at the party, tardy.

Well all went ok, until the sad day, when the old man’s life ran out of time.
And then poor ma, lost her chutzpah, plus the cabin exceeded its prime.

So ma did call, her last son Paul, asked if he knew what she should do then,
He said oh dear, I just moved here, and that we don’t even have a den.

But son relents, and acts the gent, there is space in one nook of our room.
If you feed cows, and all the sows, cause heck ma, I’ve got a new bride groom.

Written 1/22/13
Form: Couplet


Premium Member Limerick: Once a Lonely Grand-Dad In a Log-Jam

Limerick : Once a Lonely Grand-Dad in a Log-Jam

Once a Lonely Grand-Dad in a Log-Jam
Paid an urgent visit to a Grande-Dame*
She lifted the stuck log
During Pea-Souper smog
Damn ! Got carried down Grand-Dad Rapids – Wham !

* Dame : pronounced as in French
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Sailboat Log

Wind is blowing pretty hard. 
See why the hand holds  
Will lift you and slam you. Sometimes the boat leaves the water completely.
Your raceing around the deck trying not to be swept overboard. 
You are so soaked, wind chilling you to the bone.
Half filled with fear 
Yet the grin says I'm having the time of my life 
Make a mistake your dead
I have no care about dead. Doesn't matter to me. 
I'm alive.  Nature slamming me every way
Waves that lean the boat to where you swear the boats mast is almost touching the water each rock of a wave
What's crazy I can't swim a lick .
Don't care. Better my body on the ocean floor than ashes sitting forever on someone's shelf
You can sit in a couch feeling sad thinking life has past you by .
Waste away in sorrow
No thoughts on tomorrow
Or get yourself up go out and bring life to you
Like its said you live only once.
You live every day. 
you die only once
Your choice. Make the most out of what short time we get, or you waste away wishing. 
Yeah. Only you can make this choice

Knots On the Yule Log

a waltz wave


gifts
profuse
tree
pre-lit
peachy-keen
glazed ham
cakes
cookies
casseroles
Christmasy cheer
no fruitcake
no coal
no
stockings
no fireplace
Santa
knows
our front
door



written December 15, 2015
Form: Verse


My Log Cabin Home

A cabin by the lake would be a dream come true.
Large picture windows would bring nature into view.
I will sit outside on a porch that wraps around,
Surrounded by a serene mountain lake, playground.

Skylights will allow me to see God’s creations.
I’ll enjoy wondrous tranquil accommodations.
Imagine deer grazing peacefully in the yard.
My pristine lake is stunning beauty that’s unmarred.

My log cabin is built with resilient white oak.
Each day I’ll commune with all the animal folk.
I’ll thank Jehovah for the blessings he gives me.
Soon this dream of mine will be a reality.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Dog Named Hicks -The Dog That Licks the Frog He Found In the Log

My dog named “Hicks” 
'The dog that licks the frog he found in the log'

that delightful, disgusting dog that lick the fluffy, hairy frog he found in the marshy, low log
My dog  “Hicks
the dear, domestic dog that lick the fancy frog he found in the lovable log


depressed, dazzling the legendary, lumpy dog

the determined, dumpy dog that wants to eat the fantastic, famous frog he found in the loud, lost log

the funny, fat frog he found in the large, long log

the dank, different dog that lick the fake, fine frog he found in the loving, loyal log

the depressing, dark dog that licks the furry, frightening frog he found in the lit, little log “bark” “ribbit-ribbit rip”   Swhoop YUM….


11/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.

Log Cabin

She grew up in a log cabin
 on the top of a mountain
 over looking a river in the valley
 With flowers on both sides growing

 That time has come and past
 But the memories still persist
 of her childhood of growing up 
 out here In the green lust forest

 She lived with her father
 who taught her all about life
 and she still remembers her mother
 Who died when she was just five?

 her father become both parents to her
 taking care of his only little girl
 leading her to the right path to take
 to be a success in the world

 He send her to school then collage
 and she graduate top of her class
 Today she’s a heart surgeon
 Performing a Coronary bypass 

 She married a wonderful guy
 She met in medical school
 He fainted when he saw blood
 She smiles but though he was cool

 They go to the log cabin
 for vacation every year
 And she tells her children 
 of her childhood growing up there

 Every one of us
 Will always go back in time
 To the childhood we that had
 And relive every minute it in our mind

 Just take a minute to remember
 And I bet you will smile
 Thinking of so many fun things
 You did when you was a child

 Growing up in Trinidad was so much fun
 With my brothers and parents 
 An for Christmas my grandmother
 Would buy us so much presents

 I Will always think of my childhood 
 of the many years spend in my home
 And in marabella, la romain, and Indian trail
 Where my memories will always roam

 She finishes setting the table
 As the fire place starts to light
 They are having dinner with her father
 In the log cabin tonight

Captain's Log

Rescue parties in despair,
Spot his schooner drifting there
In the coming fog.
Someone heard him shoot a flare;
Naught remains, no hide nor hair,
Of the old seadog.
Fear is etched into the air,
Frantic scribblings make them stare
At his final log:

“Miles from any port or quay,
Sailing on the glassy sea,
I observe this morn
Something taller than a tree -
Wonder what the thing can be!
Suddenly forlorn,
Sweating madly as I see
More than one - in fact ‘tis three -
Massive beasts unshorn.

“Staring at the dreadful sight,
Chest is feeling mighty tight,
Standing on the deck.
Fearsome creatures; will they bite?
Gulping at their awful height,
Watch one crane its neck -
Scary, though ‘tis full daylight.
Will not stand a chance to fight -
Think they plan to wreck…”

For David’s Virelai contest
© Jack Horne  Create an image from this poem.
sea
Form: Verse

Premium Member Log Cabin

L-lost in the past
o-often built by water
g-grassy pastures

C-cattle
a-acres
b-barn
i-isolated
n-nature
Form: Acrostic

The Log Flume

The log flume

The door is always open for young hopefuls like you
An idea of paradise with cocktails and a house with a view 
A Garden of Eden with oranges and apples growing are just a few
In to the night you will go looking seeking searching for that girl to subdue 
In to the night you will find sexual enlightenment then one day you knew
I need someone who understands me and will want love that is totally true
The door closes behind and you are in the depths of a relationship that grew and grew
Suddenly you’re not in charge anymore because you only desire the only fruit
You are addicted to a person who you think loves you and this is a clue
A horrible truth is that you wanted everything too soon and she’s left you for a man who plays the bassoon 
Now you wished you’d stayed single and you cry every time they play your tune
You will not find again you think that fruit that passed your lips like champagne in bloom
You then realize there are many doors to open and that is a wondrous colourful emotional log flume
Form:

Our Little Log Cabin

Oh for a little log cabin, to share, deep in the woods
A place of simplicity, where we can live together as one
A little piece of heaven your backwoods miracle
Not separate not joined just by, computer screen
But together in unison two children in the woods
No longer needing trappings of great riches or gold
Just to be as one surrounded by nature in the woods
A simple log cabin, darling how magical the thought
A comfy chair, bed to sleep, by our warm lit fireside
As well as wireless internet, so now part of our lives
Combined with some things that never ever change
Companionship, friendship, respect and abiding love
True simplicity of life, combined with modern world
Yet so much of life trappings no longer do I need
As I enter your world and share so many things
Your dreams and mine together forever planting seeds
As I view a new world through your imaginative mind
A world of moonlit darkness, light, despair and tenderness
Oh my love, this heart sings so enriched with gratitude
Such overwhelming love like a spring bursting forth
Gone emptiness, embraced a new exciting meaning to life
Give me your hand, trust me I promise to never let go
Come share our log cabin, come share your life with me.

Login and Logout

LOGIN, 
When he says," LOGIN," 
She can  ask " WHERE ?,
                             WHERE ABOUT ?" 
He  can be meaning "SING IN HIS HEART" 
And  the password  is " TRUE LOVE" 

He loves you so much,
Once you LOGIN in his life, 
  You accepted his terms and conditions: 
A) being his best friend in life,  
B) being his happiness, 
C) being his comforter in hard times, 
D) being his partner in his future projects
E)  being with him till to  death 


LOGOUT, 
He won't forget you 
when DEATH will force you to GET OUT
 of his life , 

Because : 
A) It will be a chock in his life,  
B) You will remain in memory forever, 
C)  It won't be your fault to leave him, 
D) You will be resting in peace ,
As the scripture says, " 
only death will separate you."

February 24/ 2023
Written by Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
Form: List

Premium Member The Yellow Log

On seeing the painting of Edvard Munch
Of the woodland stretching endless
One would feel, one has entered a sanctuary,
Where stillness prevails and coolness overpowers
There is no sound except the sound of rustling leaves.
Tall trees touching Heaven’s seams stand proud,
Telling how they withstood the harshness of the sun and the hail,
And endured the storms and attacks from humans.

The trees that figure in his painting are spruces and pines,
Growing in neat rows, forming a cool canopy overhead,
As if thoughtfully planted by nature’s caring hands.
They stand erect in purple trunks and leprous barks.

On the ground lies a tree mercilessly cut down,
Sadly, exposing its naked death wound to the sun.
It sure is a victim of man’s insatiable greed. 
It is stripped off its bark and the yellow log, 
Cut into pieces, show it must have been the tallest.

Greedy eyes are poised always on the best!
Doesn’t the fallen tree speak aloud this grim truth?

While all the trees stay tall raising their arms to heavens
In boundless gratitude for the fruitful life, they are granted,
One lies down on the sod, having met with its untimely end.
Thus, life and death are contrasted, one can rightfully assume!
Form: Ekphrasis

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