Best Crane Poems
I tried folding a paper crane again the other day
and it didn't turn out right
tracing back my folds,
I knew I missed somewhere
unfolding, re-creasing, refolding
just tracing my fingers back
fingers
feeling the paper
and beyond
A three-minute fold
times 10 now
Even if I needed to do other things,
I paid no mind, determined to fold that crane
I had to get this right.
I had to.
Almost there...
As it turns out,
I only missed one step,
--something to do with its wings, I believe...
Amazing how a single step
could be so important.
Stretching its wings now,
the paper crane
soars proudly on my palm...
So beautiful.
In refolding this paper crane,
I hope I never forget...
Amazing how easily things slip from our minds,
but more amazing
is when our hearts Do remember.
We remember,
and then we Do something...
...I have hundreds of paper cranes yet to fold,
it may be taking me far longer
than what I had initially planned...
but yes, you are in my thoughts,
you are in my prayers...
and I shall continue folding these cranes.
...I revel in the thought, for that moment,
when I can send them flying towards the Sun...
0409/142012131a133/1139p1155
Moments of meditative serenity
Crimping pleating floral white hybrid washi
Shaping and triangulating dainty folds
Stringing vertex wings of freedom symmetry
Garland of classic crane origami
Wishing long happy peaceful life
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on April 25, 2019 for contest A GARLAND sponsored by JULIA WARD
A descension of value bows night scenes,
the purple canopy edges its hoist,
spirits cool Platte River to lose its sheen,
Nebraskans wake to clarion fields voiced.
A loyal guest calls, it's the Sandhill Cranes,
dancing lessons, fields fattening corn orts,
pecking and choosing established campaigns.
Last state, go afoul, -- a date with the courts.
Locals aid their tally, most from afar,
It is nature's clock, all good things must end,
fly north to breed, and brood, and up to par,
A month's here, till next year, that's how the trend.
Awnings grey, triumphant stirs, the tension,
inspiring, crescendo ... the ascension.
blue crane undeterred
wings flap and emotions spurred
raspy sounds are heard
Contest: What's the Buzz
3rd Place
Atrocious Nobugana
will he kill the cuckoo?
You, spring rains, sing
at eaves,
princess heartsick leaves!
Nobunaga-evil-minded
will kill the cuckoo.
Who knows? Maybe a geisha
will dabble his heart
with a song...
Happiness eyedrops
between bloomed cherries.
Warm sights
caress a real dream
in the nest: tweet.
Under the bloomed cherries,
gifted Hideyoshi
is singing a serenade.
Even if it is raining,
in his eyes I see the entire Sun.
Ieyasu- the patient
is waiting in the orchard
to pass the rain-
Opened umbrella
by a flowers curl...
Paper crane carried by the wind...
Susanowa
is vanishing a nightmare
into a love kiss.
An unique little cloud above the palace...
Love poem
far in the skies
lover’s face.
Only Hitomaro knows the snows secret
of the cherry’s flowers .
(translated by Raluca Ciociu)
Bitter sweet berry
Metaphor-celebration
Native peoples loss
Bloom like a crane-fowl
Shortened name over time.
Hospitality
Given by native
People, friends, whose strange gods set
Their end destiny
Long necked
with legs like ruby stilts
the crane lifts it wings
to it's side
and dances with little strides
It bobs and hops:
a skipping rope with feathers
then lowers it's wings
to gauge the effect.
Almost like the wind is a critic
It finds a mate.
I saw you were perfect..
and I loved your confidence..
but I yearned to feel whole,
So I made a fling...
You saw my ego,
You smiled at my strength,
you raised your brows and gave me a wink...
The night was blessed with cool breeze that gave rythms to cling..
I understood your manly display..
a bird with a grandest massive tail
though it seemed you had a golden star,
though it seemed you had all flowers dance to your guitar...
though it seemed you had fine jars and feathers to make the tallest tree har..
Yet you seek to explode me into your fireworks of cigar..
but I am a crane in jakar..
my immunity from duty is my priority...
I seek no ideal instance..
I seek for a dirty dove to sour in comfort of our reality...
My beauty lies on being unapologetic..
I am a black night crane with no reverence for psychic..
in the late snowfall
cranes chortle hauntingly -
for spring to follow?
tai
quan
quo
summer rain
always
summer
until
typhoon
Had I the movements of the inward crane,
That darts in rhythm between the lunar tangle:
My patience would go amiss
For such ascension bound to the solar rays.
And the earthly shores
That utter contempt and fold back the might
Would hear the quiet, sweet inhale
Before they crumble away at the song of the flight.
I will rest myself by the ocean
And know the lulled lapping of water,
That is ever present in my ear;
Comes from the force of two majestic wings spreading breath.
Or the leaves that sway about my feet,
Are the feathers that come blissfully to greet.
Shined energy, vivid, radiant sky
Let your embrace bring forward this light.
For we still stilt as pained as statues
When you are yet to extend your arms
And soar above this stage
Into the ethereal sight.
There is a thombstone in Ohio, with the inscription:
’’Harold Hart Crane: Lost at sea.“
His words, soaked with tears blossom
Beneath the waves, in lonely, starving hearts
While he sleeps the sleep of the sea
Without his dark passion,
Free at last
Calm at last
Written by Gail DeBole
July 15, 2017
You quietly hold your head
high as you stand on
the grassy bank - never
gazing back at me.
Your head and neck play
games with the alphabet
as they gracefully
curve into an “S”.
Human boundaries
have no meaning to
you as you gracefully
catch fish next to a
well-worn No Fishing sign.
I think of all of the
times I have watched
unknowing you as you
catch what I suppose is
your lunch…
…in your beak,
Mr. Crane.
Published in PS: It's Still Poetry
Volume II
You crane, your neck
To follow
Our cash
You crane, your neck
To see were
It went
You crane, your neck
And know that
It’s trashed
They spend our checks
Pocket’s
Picked and spent
You crane, your head
When they say
Trust us
You crane, your head
For some
Truth to glean
You crane, your head
At blatant
Injustice
War zones turn red
From dollars
Once green
You crane, your neck
At their
Power schemes
You crane, your neck
To have
A say
You crane, your neck
At youth’s
Broken dreams
As the bombs wreck
Their light
Fades away
late summer sun,
dogwood silhouettes -
cranes yawning