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Best Poems Written by Crane Wyndham

Below are the all-time best Crane Wyndham poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Crane Wyndham Poem

Storytelling.

I want canvasses
littering my room
fed by paint from my brushes
and lukewarm water from my brains
I want to see a billion stories
scattered all about my walls
and my carpet, and my 
Television wears a happy, painted
mask to hide his blackness.

I crave marbles
melted into breathtaking glass
sculptures, and these bodies
would watch me as I saw
them through my eyes
I crave acoustic forests
where I'll fall towards my husband
and his earthen hands will catch me-
He'll wear a happy, painted mask
and every body will watch us
lovingly
lovingly
lovingly.

Details | Crane Wyndham Poem

A Virga In Gettysburg.

Virga
Your impression beckons me
as you slumber coyly
through the day.

I, too, can play
chords up in the jetstream
during your unfathomed dream
I can find a secret and
lock it in my pulse
until the storm.

And when the gale, vespertine,
roars and carries mountains
forth
Humbly, I deliver you
my caring vision
from the shore.

Details | Crane Wyndham Poem

My Climax.

I'm going to miss you
when this web of technicolor vibrations
crumbles to a feeble hush
and our hearts lose steam
under the dark pressures
We'll let go in the wind's eye
and see our ways to the edge of the galaxy
Mine on one side, your face always blackness

I'm going to miss you
Though these trances last longer every time
I pass happiness down my esophagus
or in a green vapor
Though these songs have the magic sprinkles
to sing more graphically every time I search for
right words,
I'm going to miss you in the aftermath
of this elliptical-passion-starstream highway
and my tears will pour in the souls
of every video tape you've seen.

Details | Crane Wyndham Poem

I Love a Stranger.

My love
jouncing blood through me
like fireworks
and my stolid hands
caressing forth murals
painted over
these colors, yours to bear
in the darkest habitations
of cavern and canopy

This earth, a mother once
blindfolded, now mirthfully
shoulders our instigations
This earth, a child with no
dreams of aversion,
covets to understand you
and I as one story.