What I See ~ An erotic Poem

What I See ~

Artist: Steve Smith
Artist: Steve Smith
She’s a colorful tapestry
overlaid in glass
framed in rigid steel
laid gently
upon my bed.
I don’t know what to make of her.
but I know very well
what I wish
to do to her.
She’s pure sex….
bottled and stoppered,
all I need do is
pull the cork
and she will  flow over me
to fill in my every niche
of need that dwells
She is strong,
resilient, quiet
and purposeful
She has many needs
deep as a well
and as dark.
but her colors
are bright
and they attract.
Oh that poor moth to the flame.
He never stood a chance.
Yet, I trace each piece of her
as she lies there
from azure blue, to crimson red.
to the delicate pinkish
hues that only a
gentleman like me
is allowed to see.
Her heat is inviting
I am not burned
for it matches my own
and it grows and grows.
by Philip Wardlow 2015

Strange but True? The 300 Million Old Screw

As a writer I like to look to pictures, art,  or  cool stories (real or otherwise) to draw on for inspiration for my stories and/or poems I write. I found this below little story on the cool sight called Stumble Upon, which always has interesting pictures, facts and stories to peruse when you are just bored or looking for something to do. 
Whether this story is true or not it still makes you think and I always love the What-Ifs and Mysteries in life.  To me this story is more fascinating than all the  ridiculous scenarios about aliens  coming to build the Pyramids, or having something  to do with Stonehenge, etc…. 
300 million year old iron screw

In the summer of 1998, Russian scientists who were investigating an area 300 th km southwest of Moscow near the remains of a meteorite, discovered a piece of rock which enclosed an iron screw. Geologists estimate that the age of the rock is 300-320 million years.

At that time there were no intelligent life forms on earth, not even dinosaurs. The screw which is clearly visible in the head and nut, has a length of about cm and a diameter of about three millimeters.
My thoughts after reading this:
I researched this a little more and found that this particular discovery has never been debunked as simply a screw being dropped into a peat bog or a tar part or encrusted in a ossilized sedimentary rock like a piece concrete.  Any of those scenarios would quickly explain away the reason for this  “ancient” screw.
The screw was supposodedly encased in this ancient rock at the time of its actual forming 300 millions years ago.  So who/what made this screw?… nature, aliens, time travelers….to me anyone of those three still intrigue me because we still don’t know the answer.
So  a  hmmmmm? forms in the brain. …A mystery……I love a mystery  because life in all its facets from  love, to certain friendships formed , to religion,  to our origins,  to space is really all a mystery no matter how much you think it may not be.  It is…  and that’s a cool thing.  That’s a fun intriguing notion that life is a mystery and still has mysteries and that everything isn’t  known.  That’s no fun.  That’s like knowing the ending of the movie before you sit down in that darkened theater with your box of popcorn…

Waiting for the Train



I sit.

The thrum thrum of the tracks travel

through my core…

from the cold rolled steel on

a winter morn.

It’s coming; my train.

The vibrations are distant as

my tensions  strain

against the boundaries set long

ago in a land made of

flimsy paper mache.

It’s imminently imminent

that time ticks ticks

on the whim of

a pendulum  made of wooden sticks

Light it low,

and watch it burn bright.

And by all the laws

of physics time ticks


and faster as it burns

the length of its swing.

The whistle blows.

As I continue to




On the track, on this




For my train to come.



By Philip Warldow 2015












My brother – Past and Present reflections





My Brother ~


His pain grabbed at me, reaching in to hold tight to my chest as he screamed in that moment to no one and everyone in the world. His scream filled me up with an overwhelming emptiness that I could never fully know as it found a small echo within my own soul.

His inner turmoil was plain to see, manifested in the violent visceral cast to his eyes and voice that seemed to travel somewhere else in that instance of time. I realized then that I would never find a way to calm his inner demons that had taken a hard hold of him.



by Philip Wardlow 2015








Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets..

If Zombies could talk they would

probably sound just like you.

You’re just a walking stick of bones

with a speech impediment.

Dull and lifeless,

it seems you don’t  have a clue.

You shamble around in a daze,

seemingly half crazed, while spittle

forms around you in a pool.

Your brain must be brimming with

maggots all the way to the core.


Hey, your ears are bleeding profusely,

and here I thought I was just being ignored.

Wait here,  I’ve got something for you that might

clear that up…..

Steady, Steady, don’t move,   click  BOOM!

All Better my friend

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