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Love Poems About Crane or Crane Love Poems
by Troy Snyder |
Categories: poets,

Poets

Poets

Oscar Wilde has his quotes
And William Yeats makes it clear,
Robert Frost will set the mood
With a candle and a beer.
Walt Whitman is worth reading
And Hardy is very deep,
You should read Mr. Hayden
Stephen Crane is one to keep.
Emily is amazing
E.E. Cummings you should love
When you read Emily Plath
The angels sing from above.
I am no William Shakespeare
Or an Edger Allan Poe,
For I am Troy H. Snyder
My name you will come to know.


by Pigeon Tart |
Categories: first love, poets,

In A Heartbeat


My first love
Was born
One hundred and one years before me
He never made it to thirty
He was ahead of his time and my time too
What's a poor girl to do?

I resurrect him in my own poetry
In how his words have shaped me
Back when I was a romantic tween
I used to dream of a time machine
So I could go back and embrace him
But knowing me in a heartbeat
I would swift him away to the present day
Where he could see his poetry thriving
Where modern medicine could cure his body
And I his broken heart


My muse my first love
Stephen Crane
In poetry we shall never part



October 15th 2018

For Caren Krutsinger's 
Who Would You Bring Back In A Heartbeat Poetry Contest

by Loch David Crane |
Categories: america, death, funeral, hero, obituary,

Bike to Work day: escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar

Bike to Work day:  escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar
Loch David Crane
Patriot Guard Riders
September 2009

No more classes now that I've been fired!
Patriotism is my job: I’m retired.
The Patriot Guard rides almost every day
to bring a flapping flag line on display.
We ride to work with combustion and chrome
to bring the bodies of our brave troops home.
In a strange twist for love of our country
This Arab Albrak was a volunteer
who gave America his youthful years
to make Iraqui people finally free.
He gave his life:  I give my afternoon
remembering our heroes at high noon.
	Packed in ice, he came home to his Mom;
	his body was prepared by an Imam. 

by john loving iii |
Categories: bible, bird, faith,

and they flew

one day the flightless peacock
got a message from above
and when it filled his heart
he gave the message to a dove
when he received it he knew it was true
this was something special 
and to all the world it should be flew
the dove gave it to a crane
and the crane gave it to a duck
which went south for the winter
where the message was also brought
but then the dragon got word
and he didn't like it at all
he flew around the world
saying the message was false
but all the birds knew it 
and the woodpecker too
the message of God's love
is very, very true


(This goes with a presentation of origami birds and a dragon that can flap their wings.)

by Asif Andalib |
Categories: life, love, passion, romance,

You are like the ink of my pen

You are like the ink of my pen
I write about you now and then
Your heart is my favorite den
I think of you more than often
You are as pretty as crowned crane
You are dream of ambitious men 
For you my door is wide open
You are like my sweet oxygen
You are my last word like amen
Without you life seems like a bane
Without you I become insane
If I am Tarzan you are Jane

by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: on writing and words,

Expatriate


...inspired by 'With a Photograph to Zell' by Hart Crane
 

We scan the skies as vapor sails,
made wide by distance, destinations
guessed at, criss-cross trails
of global peregrinations;
two of thousands flying high
'til touchdown, from a roaring to a sigh. 

Time and separation matter not,
our spirits meld where'er we land,
cities mysterious and grand,
we simmer in a melting pot.
In early years we settled down,
Republic versus Queen and Crown,
three thousand miles, an ocean's span
of redefining can't and can. 

An innocent, so far abroad,
an interstitial, like a fraud,
forever seeks the real me
while clinging to your constancy;
expatriate, with memories of
England dear, the land I love.

by John Ayo |
Categories: imaginationold, old,

inversed Live

I walked with thoughts in reverse; 
Bairn of old suffered feat; 
Dancing consciously as lunatics; 
Made my pace run from me; 
Then everything looked evil... 

I smiled with thoughts in reverse; 
Moments to cherish in bitterness; 
With so much love for the pen; 
The past taught about me; 
Then everything looked evil... 

I dreamed with thoughts in reverse; 
Super human from a dead planet; 
Heavy as crane, wings of an 
airplane; 
Trudging on a seeming ground; 
Then everything looked evil... 

I awoke with thoughts in reverse; 
Super human from a dead planet? 
Moments to cherish in bitterness? 
Bairn of old suffered feat? 
Truly, everything looked evil!

by Jennifer Wallace |
Categories: love,

Nothing Can Destroy Love

Nothing can destroy  real love.
No tornado could ever destroy it.
No hurricane could ever blow it away.
No crane could ever knock it over.
It’s like an unbendable steel.

Nothing could ever destroy real love.
No president could stop it.
No judge could over rule it.
It’s a disease no doctor could cure.
It’s always strong and real for sure.
It’s you and I together and so deep in love.

by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: sad love,

Different

  '...the thorn in sharpened shade
        weathers all loneliness.'
                               -Hart Crane


Branches scratch the sky
   blanching the twilight 
      pale and grey,
         the day is dying;
my way is dark and dismal,
the night jar's distant cry
   my only solace
      as I wander washed 
in reveries of her and wish 
    with all my heart
        it could be different.

by PATRICIA CRESSWELL |
Categories: fantasy,

1 I have seen

1} I have seen

full moon 
Japanese lantern floats
above an
 azure sea

in my left hand 
a paper dragon
folded with love 
and wonder

in my right hand
crane about to fly
wings agape
filled with wind

from China comes the
blow of lift into a waiting
sky with lights, firecracker 
hopes, from the prayerful

I do not know their names 
but dragon and crane
what magic they hold 
or why they came

to my mind  this trembling night
freedom rolls a thunderous clap  
they leap from my hands
and open the trap. 


by Christopher Nova |
Categories: black love, boyfriend, break up, divorce, emo, feelings, heartbreak,

Lost One

You are my magnum opus I see you & lose focus, my past present & future rest in your eyes, every day without you a piece of me dies, you did a me on me better than I, I thought you would just take it but you joined Cobra Kai, this not a fairytale & my crane kick not workin, I doubt you would forgive me even if I bought you a Birkin, my friends ask me what I did to radicalize you, probably cheat on you & dare you to leave l would chastise you,  honestly if I knew the last time was the last time for real that time, I wouldn't be sitting here  writing these words that rhyme, but I guess this is what it feels like to get dumped, the land of the lonely a self inflicted slump 


by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: sad love,

Modesty



A floral parasol gave shade,

to features darkly fine and drawn.

No laugh lines marked her sweet facade,

a countenance both pale and wan.



She glided by the garden wall

and shed a tear, a wistful sigh;

the blossoms bent as if in awe,

the warblers chirped in sympathy.



I yearned to take her arm, to find

the reason for her dire distress,

but modesty prevailed.

Consumed with unrequited love

my passion full curtailed.



© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved 

Author Notes


...inspired by the poetry of Hart Crane

by Lord Addo-Yobo |
Categories: loveheart, heart, life, love,

My Love

Our paths met on a stormy day,
For too long had the billows of life drawn us astray,
Hand in hand we felt love's ray,
As in the field of passion we made hay,

To the hurdles of life we cried,"nay",
As we made love under faith's shade,
Unto our garments were the smiles of love stained,
For under each others comfort we gained,

My heart sings with the melody of the crane,
As we walk the oblique path of the rains,
Staring into her eyes my fear is ashamed,
For with true love in sight,the heart shouts ,"yea",

by Solomon Ochwo-Oburu |
Categories: relationship, satire,

Dog love

Dog love is
Winner takes with injury

**** love is
Cantankerous and bellicose

Dove love is
Sincere and austere

Crested Crane love is
Until death do them part

Human love is
Dove, ****, dog, crane, divine

Divine love is
Truth full of truthful faith


by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: lost love,

Different



"...the thorn in sharpened shade
     weathers all loneliness."

      Hart Crane


Branches scratch the sky
blanching the twilight
pale and gray,
the day is dying.

My way is dark and dismal,
the nightjar's distant cry
my only solace.

I wander washed
in reveries of her, and wish
with all my heart
it could be different.


by Greta Veranes-Kitts |
Categories: introspection, love,

Hone the Blade

Delicate thought-streams unfold
 like a crane to a flat piece of paper.
That something so exquisite
 could come to life in this dead place.
Writing my lover's name with bloody fingers;
 waiting for you to hone another blade for me.

by Tony Bush |
Categories: devotion, faith, love, passion,

Split Infinity

Night-bound train thunders on the track,
  Smoke stack station lets it go,
Wails in mourning, never turn back,
Coal and smoke in shrouds of snow.

Castles crane on crags of rock,
  Cinder-block bastions crumble down,
Crushed to dust, all ‘round the clock
  A Lonesome wolf patrols this town.

Feelings burst and bring black rain,
  Ice-blind torrents sweep the eyes,
Wrought regret rolls through the brain,
  A lonesome wolf howls to the skies.

My name in blood scrawls red and bold,
  Letters of love in scarlet and stone,
For winter with you in rain and cold,
  Far better than paradise suffered alone.

by Line Gauthier |
Categories: beauty, color, devotion, flower, longing, love, paradise,

BIRD OF PARADISE



Unearthly exotic beauty
Surely meant for deity
Known as crane flowers to some
Most exquisite curiosity bar none
Audacious hues of orange and blue
Divine perfection powerless to construe
Its fanlike display of utter magnificence
Gives way to engage in amorous poetic license
To you my love no other flower will do
You are my paradise my heart flies home to you



Submitted on May 30, 2019, for STANDARD CONTEST 400 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND  -  HONORABLE MENTION

Originally posted on February 20, 2019

by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: lost love, sad,

Different




'...the thorn in sharpened shade
     weathers all loneliness.'  Hart Crane

     

Branches scratch the sky
blanching the twilight
pale and gray,
the day is dying.

My way is dark and dismal,
the nightjar's distant cry
my only solace,

as I wander washed
in reveries of her, and wish
with all my heart
it could be different.

by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: lost love,

Different

  '...the thorn in sharpened shade
        weathers all loneliness.'
                               -Hart Crane


Branches scratch the sky
   blanching the twilight 
      pale and grey,
         the day is dying;
my way is dark and dismal,
the nightjar's distant cry
   my only solace
      as I wander washed 
in reveries of her and wish 
    with all my heart
        it could be different.


by Melissa Ross |
Categories: devotion, husband, love, passion, people

Bleeding Sugar

Air escapes the vein,
I crane my neck,
To lap at the sweetness,
The spilling sweetness,
For my love,
I do.

by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: lost love, loveme,

Postscript

...inspired by 'Old Song' by Hart Crane


Your smile took issue with the sun,
a flash of purest fire;
it blinded me to look upon
you, glowing with desire!

Now you are lost to me I know,
and as I sleep I pray
that distant orb's full fiery glow
will keep you safe alway. 

Your face will flicker to a haze,
a fading memory;
and I shall spend my waning days
in shades of misery.

by Ibohal Kshetrimayum |
Categories: conflict, cool, corruption, courage, crazy, creation, crush,

And poetry becomes a warrior

In sleep's ocean, in the way a crane wades
In shallow water looking for fish, I dip my pen.
And I write dreams on night's walls: graffiti of love.
Punctuated by your gentle snoring, music of looms
From the hills, weaving embroidery of fireflies,
Embraces my newborn rhyme with ancient arms.
I want to sink my soul deeper, bottomlessly, and
Never to wake up and face mornings corrupted by
Stench of rigor-mortising corpses.
A blast, somewhere in the valley, 
Frightens lullabying cicadas, and
My muse wakes up in a battlefield.
And poetry becomes a warrior.