(Lily, Lada and Pema, 2025)
In The Morning
In the morning I sit
Coffee cup in hand
Dogs nestled in on either side
Feeling like a bump on a log
With no desire to do anything
To disturb the peace of the moment.
Inside my thoughts are a gentle cascade
All the dream images of the night before
Like pieces of several different puzzles
Jumbled all together in the same box
Not needing to be sorted
As much as simply settled.
The dogs around me have no such issues
Each of them sound asleep
Each of them a soporific engine of their own
Casting a wide net of calm and comfort
In a world where everything is always
Just one day of moments at a time.
(8/18/25)
I took the road less traveled
to hear if a falling tree
with no one around
aside from me
(yours truly)
does make a sound
but lost my way
in the bewilderness
veered far astray
and for the life of me
couldn't see
the forest for the trees
but if I could
it would feel so good
not a bump on a log nor lump on a stump
as then I'd be out of the woods
I was hoping for just a caress or maybe a stroke
but all I got was noises, smoke, and restless rebuff
I was wishing for a tree hugger who would
place their arms around me and love me
but all I got was misaligned baseballs and tramples
My limbs expand far and wide
and my roots are deep, part of everything down under
still they walk around as if I don't even exist
as if I'm just a stump, standing there like a bump on a log
I get moonstruck at night by the beauty of the sky
and warmed by the sun when the dawn arrives at will
I rejoice at the sound of a child's laughter,
or when someone takes a nap beneath my full branches.
I am a tree who loves people, creatures and things,
even a misaligned baseballs, better that then nothing at all.
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 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'
Let me tell you a story….
About a year loving pet named big red,
I still can’t believe he’s dead.
He was such a wonderful dog,
He wasn’t a bump on a log.
He was my protector and friend,
My love for him will never end.
Everyone in the neighborhood,
adored him too, he was good.
I cried when he got hit by a car,
his passing left a gigantic scar.
Dad buried him and in our backyard,
everyone in the family took it hard.
He wasn’t just a pet, he was my brother,
we had the same father and mother.
I will always cherish him in my heart,
for he my heart right from the start.
04/16/2022
Sometimes I think; sometimes, I do not
Sometimes I can’t remember what I forgot,
Sometimes I wonder whether, or not
Sometimes it is merely an after-thought.
Sometimes I am either coming or going
Sometimes I am receiving or bestowing,
Sometimes I am lost in a mental fog
Sometimes I feel like a bump on a log.
Sometimes doesn’t mean always, you know
Sometimes I merely go with the flow.
written September 16, 2021
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'
The tortoise sits like a bump on a log
The people think his mind's in a fog.
But really, he's seen more than you think.
Enough to make you shock and rethink
He's seen battles of war,
Invasion and more.
He's got a hundred years more
Then you have been born.
Seen presidents and news,
Happy times and blue,
Styles and songs,
Rights and their wrongs.
But now he sits in a cage
Passing his days
As children stare in awe,
He waits for the call.
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
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.
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.
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
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!
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
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
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