Long The crane Poems

Long The crane Poems. Below are the most popular long The crane by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long The crane poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Little Blue Bird of Rain

Little Blue Bird of rain.

Rain, rain go away
Little Blue Bird of Rain, needs to shine again
In her version the sun dried, up all her tears
Leaving hurtful rain inside the bird
Destructive past sudden cheers
Waking up to empty words
When abandoned by her peers
Just not knowing what had just occurred

Drowning herself in a life of Jane Doe.
Never know who she really is
When all she loves hanging her lowest moment
The rain brought out Mary-Jane.
As the bird lost its glow.
The rain tricked her once to use Cocaine.
As her feathers met that one Joe.
He broke her wing and brought more Rain.

Very young, very sweet.
Living her life in the fast lane.
Hard for her to stand on her feet.
Balanced her life on one leg, like the crane.
Curtains hang over her wings.
While she let no one near her domain.

While she flies through the heavy rain.
She finds her comfort with a pen.
Using the lords name in vain.
Cursing all her backstabbing friends
With no one around to explain?
All the sorrow left her on a railroad track.
Ending up like the runaway train.
Only she can get her life back.

If for myself I ever felt pain?
I felt more pain at what she wrote about. 
In my face on my left side 
Your poetry comes to life in my head. 
Visions of her wanting to be dead.
Oh! How I wish this life she did not dread.

You hide the tears you shed so well.
A life with balls you cut the chains.
You diss, Your parents to go to hell.
Little Blue Bird of Rain, don't let them fools drive you insane.

Little Blue Bird of Rain.
If a sparrow could show you,
There is more to life than pain.
Under the umbrella, the sparrow would cover you.
No one wants to see her colors drain.
What a world to master her feathers into art.
The gift of words runs through her vein

The paintings on her wall.
A dream of a bad seed of grain.
One day our Little Blue Bird will stand tall.
To free herself from all the Rain.


  To: Rain aka- Joy Loveless
Our sweet 16-year-old
      P.D.     1-1-10
Form: Ballad


Dude, Where's My Automobile

Not advertising that flippant flick. I just want to know
where my blooming flivver is. It ruffles my feathers no
end to find out, when exiting the embassy,
that my buggy's whereabouts are a mystery.

I must meet Sherry 'cause her right toe
wants a sweet kiss. Did the camel tow
my car? That blasted mammal! Sherry's dear
foot can't wait! Please do not tell me the deer

took my buggy! That son of a Witch
would fine
me with a very pricey mulct which
isn't fine!

Not another loathsome tax
to put up with! Oh no, Lord, please!
I beg thou hearken to my pleas!
Now, let's come down to tin tacks.

I need my bloody car! A choice bass
cooked by Sherry awaits me. The crass
specimen who's got my car is so base,
and I'm so cross! The camel has a bass

voice that creeps me out! I do not want to
deal with him. I cannot even stomach two 
secs the sight of the deer. He's ugly too.

II.

On returning to his flat, mad as a goat,
Ivo found on the door, the following note:

Dear Ivo,

I hereby inform you that your awfully and
illegally parked streetcar has been impounded.
Come pick it up at the City Hall and 
bring cash with you for there's a fine. 8 hundred
clams.

	Much love,
	The Crane from Ukraine.

Blimey! That heartless crane! I won't give her a buck!
Now I know the ruffians weren't the camel and the buck.
Well, let's be fair, it wouldn't be cricket to pass the buck.
I didn't park properly. It's my fault. That's it. I will not buck
at the fine.
III.
                  I got my car back for free. How? l told the crane;
"I'm in a hurry to meet Sherry who needs me to canoodle
her feet. I'll have tonight for dinner a bass fish with noodles."
"If a foot massage like the ones I used to get in Ukraine.
you give me, I will be happy to call off the mulct." said she.
I pleased her feet very much. She loved it. Then we got some tea.


IV.

I'm on my way home to eat some bass,
with my beloved and awesome lass.
It's so nice to be able to dine
without having paid that gruesome fine.
© Ivor Kos  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Burlesque

Premium Member Spirit Walker:

I feel I must put this experience out there.
This took place about ten years ago in my room while meditating.

(Whilst in a trance-like state) I looked up facing the sunrise through a great trilithon, I was at Stonehenge. As I walked through the huge trilithon, I turned my head back to see a great Owl perched on top of the archway I just came through. Which I found quite odd, considering that I have no affiliation with them. Then turning back to the right of me I could see my spirit Wolf pacing nervously outside another great trilithon staring directly at me.

Turning now to the near centre, a hooded black cloaked figure appeared to emerge from a green fire in the centre. 

 All I could see of his face was his old grey chin. But what happened next astounded me. Telepathically, I spoke directly into his mind saying, "what do you want?" He laughed replying, (into my head) "is not the question what do you want?" Then I laughed saying, "I want to be the best Shaman I can be." With that, he drew up his right arm, palm down holding something. So I, in turn, placed out my right-hand palm up and he placed a little leather pouch in it. systematically, I raised my hand up to my heart and the bag went in. I thanked him and turned around and left. Never did catch his name or meet him again. But I now carry the Crane-Bag. 

Update: since this experience, I have recently developed AF, (atrial fibrillation) so make of that what you will. But I still maintain that my heart is good. 

Also, found out later that The green Flame is the Flame of balance and Truth. It leads to analysis and development of ideas, especially Divine ideas and impulses that have been conceived in the First Ray of the Blue Flame. Those ideas ultimately and inevitably produce wisdom and light.
 
Second update: funny, now after an ablation my heart is fine. 
Now I know for sure that he was looking out for me.
© White Wolf  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Ludix-Rym-Why My Name Is Moon

With ancient mysteries you come
In your full light, hearts you do strum
Amid rituals some succumb
To your heartbeat played on a drum
Your names do change meanings for some
January wolf howls a thrum
Eerily call family hum
Never knowing where you come from
February called snow, not glum
Low skies of grey make you feel numb


Through parting cloud the sight of you
Enraptured skies charm overdue
To bring the sugar moon, March knew
Of winter storms try to subdue
Sweetness of spring to see us through
Pink moon of April aptly grew
The phlox carpet gardens imbue
Your fullness we must bid adieu
To greet flower, Mays name you flew
Rich scents of delights we accrue


Dancing petals arrive with rain
To kiss June’s strawberry rose mane
We bless your fullness to contain
The longest day on the years’ skein
We see your glow with pink champagne
July’s new buck is born to reign
The month wants thunder to abstain
And flies the crane and grows the grain
It’s summer warmth we do obtain
Abounds the August fruit sustain


Blue sky playground sings lullaby
Encircle your name with fresh pie
And rejoice a sturgeon fish fry
The sun your husband and ally
Bless fields with magic we apply
September named for harvest cry
To reap the grounds which we rely
Full moon’s help is always near by
As sanguine October does sigh
The hunter comes to say goodbye


The richness of fall our income
Before November mourning plum
Last moon before Solstice voodoo
We rejoice hours longer renew
With friends and family we deign
Our humble Thanksgiving is plain
To December’s moon a cold eye
Give frankincense gifts to comply
Each months’ full bounty a named moon
Complete in her wonder I swoon

written:  10-16-2019

For:  LUDix-Rym  contest
used rhyme-zone
and Poetry Soup syllable counter
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Medicine, Solace

I know the Bear.
     watcher, courage
          unpredict(ability)
I know the Snake.
     wisdom of initiation

I know the Wolf.
I know a pack of 'em.
     loyalty, intuition


I know the Spider,
though I pretend
I don't.
     shadows, communication

I know the Owl,
or, I pretend 
I do.
     insight, clairvoyance


I even know the Fox.
(I may be the Fox.)
     cunning, hidden
          messenger


I know the Bobcat, the Alligator.
     patience, revenge
and other far-off
Beings, lost to this
space, but not lost
on me, not lost to me.

I know the Bat.
     secrets, longevity


I know the Cougar.
So well that I call her,
not by her first name but,
the First Peoples' names:
I call her Catamount/Painter/Puma/
I call her Panther/Mountain Screamer/
I call her Amigo da Onça
     foresight, leadership
          silence, patience

I know the Coyote, the Crane.
     ingenuity and folly; vigilance and independence
I know the Heron, the Lynx.
     self-reliance, balance
     guardian, listener, guide

And each of these,
each Medicine
each is prayed for
and each preys on
each arrives from
some inchoate world
(land? sky?)
beyond all sight.
An answered wish,
a plea,
a demand.

And each, a predator.
One who wrings life
from flesh
that it might deliver its
song, its dance of Medicine
to one so foolish as
me.

and yet the Hawk,
I see today,
though predator,
is the Medicine of
Solitude.

Near enough,
Far enough.
Alone enough,
apart enough.

a lone Alone.

Hawk
   Arc

Lofted.
        Lifted.

        Hawk.
Medicine.

Alone among...


Denadagohvyu


The Goldfinch

The finch dances merry, weaving feathers into music
That spills from overeager beaks and drips light onto slick wings 
Which beat in time with the song, fluttering, flittering, 
Finding life in the sky and where the ground meets it, turning,
Twisting note to the bright forgetful where the now is all
And the past does not exist.
Must it be so wonderful? To let go
And float up on thermals over sunset summer parking lots 
And the people in them, looking up, or down, or anywhere
Except each other, but freedom tastes not-sweet and all encompassing, like
Air, like blood, like the gooseflesh on your arms when that wind catches
And whispers asking to play in words no one can repeat.
How terrible must it be, to be afraid of the fall?
Because I am not afraid of endings, little bird, and you and I
Will fall forever up until we reach the sky,
And when it ends I will be glad to have been there for the beginning of it.
Why fear failing, why fear falling, when the ground will always catch you?
And as the crane jumps on stick feet to the unawareness of dinosaurs,
I too forget waking up. 
How terrible it must be to fear falling asleep!
Because the sky is blue, my dear, and there is no greater honor
Than being a part of that hue someday—
People slave over paper and skin and lightning in metal
Sparking over clumsy fingers meant for braiding grass.
The small bird laughs and flees from the hawk, the raptor, 
Watching rapturously the give and take of prey
And the forgiveness of both sides.
How terrible it must be to be afraid of endings, finch,
And to be aware of them!
But I refuse to mourn myself, and so when I fall, 
I will be glad to have flown at all.

Migrations

The calls of the flocks          to this years migration
a roving community       of birds in each nation
rising and diving       above         mists in the rocks
the drawing together         for birthing         new flocks
 
The coo of the crane      in     a wetland bog
the bob of its head       when       its nabbed a frog
opened winged geese     in            passages  soar
north back to south     or        a western shore
 
Above our earth        the traversing vast miles
into the snowfall                 or            cliffside defiles
a race upon water       to         lure this years mate
or share  in the catch          a        dance woven like date
 
Such grace of movement    their wings on the breeze
like rhythms beating       to ascend     above trees
how can one       capture     such beauty       so grand
of a creatures          decent       upon sky        upon land
 
Motion so elegant       their  journey's   in sky
mankinds observations      our own desire       to fly
the form of their       pinions       upon outstreched wings
to follow freedom         this kind of life       dreams
 
Lowlands or Highlands        the wild fowl    domains
in deserts   or plateaus       aviary   terrains
on pole ice       or islands   you'll find their rests
every year you'll find them       their community     nests
 
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Form: Verse

Are You In the Mood For a Little Global Warming?

Be of good cheer
                                                 Global Warming 
                                                 Forever here
                                                 Touching the ground
                                                 Sea Waters a rising all around
                                                 Don't look back
                                                 As your Neighborhood begins to crack
                                                 Mother Nature is drowning
                                                 We cannot escape that inevitable fact
                                                 Someone so fair
                                                 likes to burn your children's hair
                                                he can't help but laugh
                                                At the damage being done down there
                                                Paulie wants a cracker
                                                before flying away ever after
                                                and then the crane will start storming
                                                unleashing the hail of global warming
© Bart Jonas  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Criminal

I’m criminally insane, I’ve got a lot on my brain, my life's down the drain, and I’m riding a train. The ghost has been slain, I’m using a cane, to walk on this gravel and escape from the crane. The world is corrupt, and thrown into Bane, I’ve taken more walks, down memory lane, than I care to admit, it’s left such a stain, nothing to lose, and so much to gain. I jump from the plane, I’m wrapped in a chain, I wish I could train, but life is so plain. I walk between rain, I have so much pain, I’m so far from sane, my life is so small, as small as a grain. If I told you, that life was dark, I was born in the world, so I could leave a mark, I have soulless eyes, but not like a shark, I’ve been driving for years and still nowhere to park. What if I said, that life was scary? If fantasy is real, then it shows up rarely, I don't care about cheese, but I do love the dairy, there is no smooth ride, when life is so hairy. The end of the world, is coming near, I have to admit, that the future is clear, I reek of essence, the essence of fear, I’ve been driving so long, I forgot how to steer. I’ve been trapped, in this place, I can’t defend, my mental case, for years to come, a lonely face, it’s time to be done, and finish the race.
Form: Rhyme

Criminal

im criminally insane, ive got alot on my brain, my life's down the drain, and im riding a train. the ghost has been slain, im using a cane, to walk on this gravel, and escape from the crane. the world is corrupt, and thrown into bane, ive taken more walks, down memory lane, than i care to admit, its left such a stain, nothing to lose, and so much to gain. i jump out the plane, im wrapped in a chain, i wish i could train, but life is so plain. i walk between rain, i have so much pain, im so far from sane, my life is so small, as small as a grain. if i told you, that life was dark, i was born in the world, so i could leave a mark, i have soulless eyes, but not like a shark, ive been driving for years and still nowhere to park. what if i said, that life was scary? if fantasy is real, then im no fairy, i don't care about cheese, but i do love the dairy, there is no smooth ride, when life is so hairy. the end of the world, is coming near, i have to admit, that the future is clear, i reek of essence, the essence of fear, ive been driving so long, i forgot how to steer. ive been trapped, in this place, i cant defend, my mental case, for years to come, a lonely face, its time to be done, and finish the race.
Form: ABC

Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Reflection on the Important Things

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter