THREE Poems from my younger years – by Philip Wardlow


Marathon

AT THE MARATHON (GAS STATION)

 AT  THE MARATHON .

CHEWING BUBBLE GUM

MY FORTUNE SAYS I’LL BE ENVIED

BY EVERYONE.

AT THE MARATHON

CHEWING BUBBLEGUM

SITTING AT THE MARATHON

WAITING FOR A FRIEND TO COME

AT THE MARATHON.

WHO’D ENVY ME?

THE ONE WHO OWNS A BROKEN CAR.

AT THE MARATHON

WHO’D ENVY ME

THE ONE WITH A BROKEN HEART

AT THE MARATHON

THE NIGHT IS GETTING COLDER

AS THE CARS DRIVE BY.

AS I CHEW MY BUBBLEGUM.

WHO’D ENVY ME?

AT THE MARATHON.

By Philip Wardlow 1989

(PS.  And yes I sadly had just broken up with long term girlfriend at the time n my teenage years)

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

chained-feet

A Brother Far Away

Stomp Clomp Stomp Clomp

Marched the Family of elephants

As they trod the dusty distance

To the watering hole.

A brother far away

Hears the tink chink tink chink of steel  against steel

to announce the arrival of the Big Top to town

A tenderly nudge of a mother’s

Trunk gently directs her curious baby back on

Course.

Brother feels the pokes and prods of the steel

Tipped hook as it lashes out at him when he makes a

Misstep.

The chuckling of the hyenas and the

roaring of the lions nearby incite

The lead elephant to bellow a warning

to keep away.

Brother hears the hoots and hollers of the crowd

Behind the dark circus tent as the lion’s cage  lumbers by

with the great beast still asleep inside.

A west wind blows pushing through the plains , flowing over

The feather dusted clouds encasing the moon which hangs like a

Fluorescent white pearl over the watering hole.

Brother dips his trunk into the bucket and

Comes up with the last drink to be offered that night as he

Strains at the shackles to get a glimpse at the moon.

By Philip Wardlow 1995

something

Nothing & Something?

Nothing

That’s what I feel like sometimes

Nothing

Nothing, nowhere, no how.

When I see sunsets casting purple hues and

pinkish wisps set in a bowl of vibrant golden orange,

It always reminds me that I’m nothing

And something

A nighttime sky, filled to bursting with a voluminous moon

And a menagerie of stars and planets spinning and coalescing in a

Constant rhythm we can’t begin to see. That’s when I feel like

Nothing

And something

A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl who didn’t know I existed until

today,  soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting. Nothing exists, not even

me.

And yet something…

Clues and misdirection, blind alleys and thorough fares, leads me by a

Leash to nowhere

Yet somewhere will be the end when the journey’s through

I am humbled at times but at others

I am petulant.

I am tired of feeling like nothing

Something sounds good

By Philip Wardlow 1996

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