Best Stump Up Poems

 The human spirit needs places where
nature has not been rearranged
by the hand of man
Author Unknown

A metal rail now mocks the space

where a massive trunk...

Read more of this work...

The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined blue eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
he climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar...

Read more of this work...

You lay upon the warm wet earth
now ripped from limb to limb.
Your present shape denies the girth
of your form in its prime.

A life cut short...

Read more of this work...

Someone who knows
Said You were an old ancient Tree,
But at the time, it didn’t really matter, 
Or seem important to me.
I knew You only for...

Read more of this work...

Beyond her veil;

eyes induced by secretive stars
became drawn to a path illuminated by 
flickering, shimmering pale moonlight.
Each spirited step led to the 
revelation of her...

Read more of this work...

Way back in the woods all nestled away
I found the place where Leprechauns play

To find the place I had to first find the door
Keeping it...

Read more of this work...

Jim was a lumberjack from Borehamwood
A chainsaw mishap took off his manhood
His Love life was a mess
He now suffers from stress
So he made himself one...

Read more of this work...

A busy road.
A tree stump.
An old man.

Everyday at eight 'o clock
He sits there, cane tapping
just watching cars go by--
I among them

Such a lonely man
I say...

Read more of this work...

Dad had threatened for some time, to reclaim the land behind the shed,
where rubbish over many years, had stockpiled but now instead
of being easy to...

Read more of this work...

I relate this story from my room in the Quiet Vale Giggling Academy

A reader might find my story hard to believe
BUT!
At one time in my...

Read more of this work...

Scratching their heads 
They look at me
Am I a tree stump
Am I a grotesque face
Inside I am  laughing
I know what I am.

Am a freak...

Read more of this work...

The morning's first cup is sweetest, rich and hot, 
as I look through my kitchen window at the hickory.

The low branches will come off first.

Once...

Read more of this work...

Socialites

those was good days.
sneakin' out the bedroom window
tryin' harder not to wrinkle our frocks
than not to wake momma

runnin' down the dusty road
with pointy-toe pumps in...

Read more of this work...

Remnants owlish wisdom wafts through nighttime’s purple sky.
Fox settles down with her kits, against a nurturing oak stump.
Meadow and forest perform their nightly slumbering rituals.
Vigilant...

Read more of this work...

When I was a child
Everything was magical
Full of mystery and the unknown
I read hundreds of books
The library my haven
My home
Hours upon hours
Night and day
I read...

Read more of this work...