Last Edited Poems (1,151)

Our passions moved like the wind.
Desire burned like flames until there was nothing left.
The scent of her and the smell of a flower, for me, are as one.

The long lasting memory of her touch, her taste, fuels my burning heart, after what seems like eons.

To know, and to have, but too of lost is a pain and a joy of moments long passed into the hopelessness of need.
Fate moves her hand in unfair ways.

Looking, seeking, asking, but never finding; is a rode for the
dammed.

Hoping, trusting, being, is the path for the meek, for someday, someway, somehow I will find the desire, of a flower, once more.

Lonnie Ray
AKA: John Sharp
AKA: Harley Cross

I'd rather go home
and live up a tree
than to be dry forever
and forget the 'ol sea

and I'd rather go hungry
than eat on the street
than miss every wave
and places they meet

I'd rather live in a hole
and stare at the stars
than live in the veins
of buses and cars

and I'd rather leave you
than live in the town
where the air is a stranger
and you wear the 'ol frown

I'd rather not laugh
if the cost was too much
If I never felt salt
in the places we touch

and I'd rather take truth
that a palace of lies
as time is an arrow
and flawless she flies

I'd rather hold you
than own your whole soul
and I'd rather go hungry
than live on the dole

and I'd rather grow old
that to be young in chains
as the sea has my heart
and it always remains

Through the decorated woods of Augusta stood the Oak
Roots embedded in the rich soils of cultivation and technique
From sun to gale a trail of victories gifting a united nation a new hero
Irons ablaze he strikes the ball
The flow of birdies follow his lead
The longest yard no match for his unyielding drive
Go the distance the course endured
Fifteen majors now returned
Five jackets green with envy of the master who wears them
The pinnacle mounted and the heights soared
His status regained the Tiger roared

she looks at me.. some small hotel in some small town.. her dark curls run along the corridor of her pale shoulder.. her words hit home.. " you know, buster.. when your lust is emptied.. and your belly is full, you can pull down your awnings.. but you can't change the stock in the store.."

the trail is hard.. tough.. it sculpts rigour on you.. you learn or die.. some learn AND die.. I never claimed life was fair.." fair" is a made up word designed to take the edge off.. just as you need an edge to make it past something.

I caught a glimpse from the hills once.. the trail weaved a dark score on the dusty earth.. man, beast and wagon.. moving on.. beating against the tide of time.. hoping.. praying with actions... I wondered if God laughed or said nothing..

a coyote fights the moon.. he seems to know a terrible truth that none of us has figured out yet.

I hobble tie the horse.. make a fire the way the old timers showed me.. carrying a spark in a hollowed out steer horn.. some times I dream.. not always bad.. sometimes I count the great women I've loved... it only takes one hand.. but I still dream.. the dream that soothes..

I dream, in all this desert , in all this dark... there's a flower.. growing in the dirt.. and when I get to it.. it will smell like her kiss tasted..

baby, hills run dry
beneath your velvet sky
outside i queue for gas
in the rain

baby, I don't know
how the tale of us will go
don't walk away
on stepping stones of pain

your smile is a light
on a cold dark night
look and search my face
there's no distain

all I ask for now
is some peace somehow
no need to give me
shelter from the rain

I’ve played with glass marbles, they’re black as black gets...
Cracked down their middles....and right through their backs...
Chained to long nights backed with painful cold-sweats...
I’ll bet that these pains are the best I’ve met yet...

Although I do know, though I don’t......will I grow?...
The best of me.....that person I’ve never known...
And while cracks remain, time has maintained what’s stained...
Strained cracks in black glass back and reaps what’s been sown....

Is but the formula for growth. A bookend of recalibration of the response dynamic. If buried treasure is there to be found then the possibilities are endless to enrich the faculties of reason. We are not but one and many and masters of our faith. Within isolation vision can manifest itself like a reservoir of endeavour. The presentation of a challenge may isolate an individual but the knowledge of the ten thousand that have gone before and will continue into the future is a universal celebration of unity. It sharpens the journey like a microcosm reverberating throughout the cosmos. Mind to minds minding. Independent and interdependent. If Astronauts do not fear the unknown then humanity is not alone.

drank whiskey
from her navel
after hours
in a bar

heard the sound
of my breathing
through the lungs
of your guitar

and lightnings just
a broken string
on horizon's
air guitar

cloudy lyrics
fall as rain
through the windscreen
of my car

I started
a new life
as we had
just begun

swam circles
around your mind
untill you closed
the sun

you told me
i was stubborn
you told me
yes and no

I went fishin
in your creek
but the water
was too low

there's always
a new town
a new girl
and you

tryin hard
to unpick life
tangled up
in blue

Her Page Has Poems
And Art And Such
And If You're Patient
You Will Learn Much

A Comment To Leave
Or 2-Two - If You Dare
She Has Many Followers
This Maestro Extraordinaire

Better Make It Good
Better Make It Quick
If You Want It To Stay
If You Want It To Stick

She May 'Like' Your Comment
'Clicking-Like' - It's So
Or Delete-Cha Quick
Off Into Space It Will Go->

One Day They'll Write
About Her Fame
This Lady Bright
With The Unique Name

I got your picture in my cabin
your smiling face is everywhere
your ghost is what I sail on
through the ocean of your hair
and my work it takes me everywhere
and nowhere fast and slow

it takes a man to plough an acre
it takes a woman to make it grow

the sea elevates my singing
despite my ungrateful tone
my thoughts are made of music
my thoughts are mine alone
then you wander warm inside my mind
like a gift from god to me

it takes a man to bring his story
it takes a woman to set him fee

girl we never did much talking
and when we did it was so brief
we laughed about eachother
and we smiled through pain and grief
you made the mundane magic
and you fought hard for your dream

it takes a man to set a plough right
it takes a woman to hitch a team

there's an empty chair that held you
a rare creature tall and true
if life has taught me one thing
Ive learned it all from you
and you laughed at my cowboy movies
as I turned into my old man

it takes a man to work his heart out
it takes a woman to give a damn