She said,


hugs

She said,
I am sick of crying….
I am sick of dying
inside
a little every day
and every night
because life
likes to throw
so much shit my
way
and I cant cope
as I try to lay all the lines
straight
and they just
become entangled
all the more.
Choices come cheap
she said.
If you allow them in
Chances can be taken
when you just jump
Change can happen
with but a whisper
of want conveyed.
So she said.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

My appetite


 

spectactular

She comes home

and does what she wants.

Does what? We don’t know.

She wont say.

But it’s not much,

because she’s cut off and closed away.

Far and in-between the what-if

of her.

She is a melancholy angry mess

I can’t put my thumb on her

and she’d break it if I tried.

But I do, because I can, and she lets me pry;

however reluctantly,

because that’s all I have ever done.

I speak the truth, because lies are boring vicious things.

Even though the truth is often painful

as a motherfucker,

it’s freeing,

casual and a sweetness

rolled into a ball and

swallowed down

that speaks to my

appetite.

Which always

hungers.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

Mini-Poetry of Many Flavors


 

 

dress

Mischievous

Her dress unraveled

Falling slowly, suddenly,

clothed now only  in a grin

to mirror my own.

****************

tenor

Perspective

Circling,  ever circling

around and around

eyes shaded to what is, what was,

what might be.  When all

we needed do was to stop and leave

this fun house to truly see , and never

buy a ticket again.

**************

cookiecat

Cookie Cat

Oh fat cat, where

did that last cookie go?

Do you suppose

it went down

that big  mouse trap of a mouth?

I’m thinking so.

************

shadowplay

Shadow Play

Kill your shadow

before it kills you.

Your shadow doesn’t lead.

You lead you.

A Do Over?


timetravel

If you could,

set a coordinate in time and space.

Push a button. Click…

and in a flick

of an eye lash or

the time it takes

for a humming bird’s heart

to beat just once.

You’re there.

Beside yourself, in yourself

telling that old new person,  who’s just

starting to breath life into their lungs,

To Think.

You would hesitate, that younger state.

For an instant, in listening to the older.

But, you would still follow through;

for their is no do over, no amending.

no take backs.

Time is a tricky bastard, giving and taking

in all the wrong places.

So you float, waiting.

Anxiety of the day always building.

Until it all unravels to reveal

the mystery of those moments in obvious hindsight

as pieces of you  fall through an aperture

to allow only minute grains

for you to view.

Bit by bit, little clues to life why

a person such as you or I might exist.

So travel ever forward, explore.

And try just a smidgeon to listen

to that future self when they

tell you not to fret.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

I could Never


thekiss_starwars

 

I could never have chosen a more difficult woman.

Defiant brown eyes always challenging,

yet soften when I lean in with just the right words

whispered in your ear.

I may be scruffy but I know you secretly

like a man with a little hair and to warm

your hands with my own.

So, I will give you my best grin and tell you

I’ll swing by in the Falcon at eight

and we will travel to Dathomir

for a wild and fun filled date.

And never mind what Lando says,

for he’s just a Rogue  like me.

They can’t be trusted;

unless you have stolen their heart.

Know that you have, even

as you push me away to pull

me in tight.

I know you need a good kiss

and I have many to lend.

For I could never

leave you wanting

Unless it was all according

to my devious plan…. 🙂

 

 

by Philip Wardlowfalcon

 

 

 

 

 

 

I play


faun-and-nymph-by-sydney-long

She knows not that I watch her soul

smiling idly out behind eyes blue flecked

with bits of gold.

I play a light and airy tune with wood and wind

Nestled deep in forest glen,

Just for her, as always promised.

Notes ride the air,

seeking purchase within her mind to push aside

a raven’s deep abiding dark claim.

For there resides a tumultuous churning,

ever undulating

as I try and intertwine

and weave, a melody

with my fool’s flute,

dipping an octave or

two going in.

Delicate…invisible…searching.

Enveloping.

Again, I spy your smile sneak out

as my delving takes.

And a shadow or two

that was once another you

loosens it purchase

and takes flight.

 

by Philip Wardlow

First Day to Last


doubledutch

The hand moves on the clock

as the little girl skips down the block.

Sun up to sun down.

She laughs. and laughs, and laughs,

and sings in her heart.

Until one day the ground comes to meet

her head on.

Now, her trust in gravity is suddenly gone.

Yet, she still skips, but ever so hesitantly.

Just ever so, knowing the cost in her

lack of caution.

Her heart still sings

as she joins in a game

of Double Dutch.

The rope flies as her feet take flight.

But the other girls in their turning

are not nice,

as they

slow the speed of the spin

throwing off the girls rhythm

So once again, gravity brings

blood on a sidewalk and

scraped raw knees,

and a small wall.

On and on her days come and go,

the clock continually ticking

with the gravity of the Universe

never relenting.

Always there; spinning,

as this little girl still

continues to skip

and jump rope.

With that same song

deep within her heart

humming ever so slowly,

just ever so.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

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TheFeatheredSleep

Tigers not daughters

VIVID LENS VIEW

Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...

mirror without glass

truth shall climb out

Awapara Art

A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life and my Wandering Mind

Musings of PuppyDoc

Poetry Behind a White Coat

All Thoughts Work™ Outdoors

Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013

unbolt me

the literary asylum

That Weird Brown Girl

Let's get real. Let's get weird.

Just read

Reviews, raves, and rants it's all about the books we read

Musings of a mad woman

Bipolar is my superpower

ReclusiveDreams

My Mind's Dark but Heart's Light

Vigilante Nation

A site dedicated to mediating and confronting vigilantism and violent extremism in American history, society, culture & beyond

World of Horror

A place for writers and book lovers

Elan Mudrow

The Ridges of Intertextuallity

Exclusive Inflictions

by Kelly Lewis

Megan Kay's Blog

Linguistic twists dripping from my wanton tongue. WARNING: My words are written to be viewed by a mature eye 18+ please

Daily (w)rite

A DAILY RITUAL OF WRITING

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