Her Many Ways


She says she wants to go before me
because she says she’s not strong
enough to see me go.

She often casually calls me darling
from across the room
likes we’ve always been.

She pulls the positive from me
and pushes the negative away that
at times I let invade.

Whether in darkness or light
she takes my hand knowing
I will protect her in an instant

She seeks to know my day
whether it’s mundane or magical,
she seeks the knowing of me.

She often asks what was the best
part of my day, and my answers vary,
but I never say what I should,
that it’s the drive home in knowing
I’m going to see you.

It’s not easy for me to love.
Distance is my friend, for closeness
lets the hurt creep in.

Yet, I wish her close.
I want her near.
I want everything she
has to offer
I want all her tender
ways.

By Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020

The Red Queen


She once sat a throne of bones
and violence, of endings
and beginnings unwinding,
while always seeking a home.

I found her to be funny, frivolous,
fraught, extreme, and sublime
all in a few heartbeats
of a day.

She seeks the happy,
as she delves for the pride inside
of her and the precious life
that resides in the self.

All her shimmer
rides a rail of magic,
all her gold glitters
at the end of a lost rainbow.

Her beauty often touches
on another world,
where mysteries come alive
and mesmerize
only to slowly fade away.

She has made a home of me,
and I am grateful in that
choosing, for there is
no other place I wish
for her to be.

For she will forever in a day
be my Queen.

by Philip Wardlow Jan, 2020

She’s true


Often, it’s hard to trust what’s true,
when it’s wanted so badly it
sometimes leaves you feeling
a damn fool.

I know her love is rich and as
warm as the dark coffee and sweet cream
in my cup.
So I drink her down, down, down
and she picks my tired soul up
from the ground that I had been
laying on.

She’s my Nature, she’s my Sun, a
a field of flowers which clings
to me that I roll in until
the dawn comes.

I can’t catch her lightning, and
wouldn’t want to try,
She’s finally escaped that bottle,
the lids far flung
I’m just trying to keep up
with her escape
as she runs.

I’m not worried,
I know her eyes will always
find me as I know her gaze seeks
only my own.

I love her truly,
as true as she loves
me, and I would be the
fool to ever
wander away from such a
passionate love that
has all my
affections for all the
time that life
has left for us
to be.

by Philip Wardlow 2020

Knowing you


Strange, what a first meeting
is between two
future lovers.
Primal,
at it’s inception
Eyes wide with that
of
the big bad wolf
looking upon
Miss Riding Hood
while all the while
Red is looking over her
shoulder with the same
intensity
The same thirst to dry
up a thousand oceans.
No matter how instant
of a glance, it was there
in both of them,
each knowing
the other
in that captured
moment.
One secret not hidden
amongst all the rest
not known.
Hopefully more to
be divulged
as the knowing
between them
goes
on and on
throughout
the night.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Love, Lust, In, Out, and the Actual


Speak to me of love?
What do you know of love?

Did it grip you tightly?
Did it have you enthralled?
Did you chase it like a little
kitten chases a ball of yarn
tumbling down a long
flight of stairs never quite
catching up
until it all unravels.
What does a kitten mean to a piece of
yarn anyways?
I will tell you,
absolutely nothing at all.
If you truly wish to know the
secrets of the heart
let’s speak of lust,
love’s lost cousin.
A bewildered child of
aches and unknown needs,
a meandering fool of the flesh
thinking the reality of a moment of
soft penetrating touches
done in the dark
is all their is to
being complete.
But those sweet treats
are only ever
half the nourishment
the soul needs.
I will tell you this,
Love starts as a delicate touch
followed by a delicate word,
followed by a delicate intention,
followed by a delicate action
Over, and over, and over
a cycle never ending
never wanting to end.
Because the feeling
is too sweet,
sweeter than the sweetest
candy
and infinitely more filling
to the ache that sits
inside you.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

The Half-Century Man


Soon I shall be the Half-Centennial,
a hundred years sliced neatly
down the middle I will be, with
a plethora of histories
passings buried deep in the
very blood that flows
through me.

As gray touches lightly upon
the mostly black hair upon my head
I take solace that it is
thicker by far than
more than half the men in the world
at half my age.
And my grin still
causes a girl
or two to smile
my way in wonder
at the mystery
I may hold for her.

Though my skin may yet
be smooth
the wrinkles of time
have burrowed into
me, scarring a tired
soul once
remembered young,
once vibrant
once foolishly bold
once innocent
once true
and I weep
at that lost
for it was that not
long ago.

I fear more than I did
of death, now weary of friends
and of dreams only to become abandoned,
to relationships nurtured
only to be tainted.
Yet, I know
with each fear, each lost,
comes wisdom, perseverance,
resolve, and epiphanies to be
unbound and courage to be renewed.
for old dogs
who still wish to learn
a new trick or two.

So as my candles are lit,
my cake is set before me,
and the song is sung,
I will close my eyes
and make a grand
wish for the ages
yet to come
my way.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

.

Resolutely Forever yours


Once I was her Prince in courting,
now I am her Kingly Husband kneeling
and she my Queen and Wife,
Unwavering in love am I,
full of autumnal dreamings
never ceasing for the life and
lives we will lead
together bound fast
in charms and enchantments
that no witch or warlock
could tear asunder.

With pressed kisses we did
call all the magics of the Universe
to bear witness upon our oaths
felt true from heart to heart
as the elementals of Earth, Fire, Air
and Water danced around
our two spirits
embracing

She is my love,
and if a single tear of hers
should fall, then
so one of mine
She is my future, and my present
filling me with a need
to always be hers
in friendship, in trust,
in passions, and in
love.
Steadfast

 

by Philp Wardlow 2019

 

Thank you for your Pain


Thank you for your pain, but move along
someone else just got the high
score in the game of life
and you are just not
important anymore

Contract a disease
and then we’ll talk,
depressions been
done already,
that’s last year new It girl,
and you didn’t make the cover.
Hell you didn’t even get
a mention towards
the back.

You could always present us
up with a new dilemma, something
tortuous and glorious
something for the ages
And we’ll spy with our little
eye, and give a word or two
of sanctimonious advice
trying not to sound trite
as we hand out a like or love
like its a piece of gold.

But please, seriously, move along
you are taking up
space.

by Philip Wardlow

Plants need watering


The flower sits on the table, withering,
it looks tired now. Slumped.
Sad.
Dead dry leaves litter the ground
around it.
Perhaps not watered enough, perhaps
drowned with rotted roots
Perhaps too much sun as it
sat in a hot room,
or were the shades drawn too tight
not allowing enough light?
Choked off in some way
it was, to look so.
Either way it was neglected.
Best just to throw
it way now.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Don't let the mystery of you go unknown

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Health | Inspiration | Life

Debatably Dateable

But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for

Rust.in.the.Soul

Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul

Go Dog Go Café

Where writers gather

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Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013

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