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Monthly Archives: January 2019
Time, Tenacity and the Reason Why.
Moments flit
mounting to minutes,
then hours,
Days cycle
as the sun sets
and I’m left
bereft.
Wasted, are the stars
that twinkle.
Wasted, is the moon
illuminating.
No inspiration wrought.
Looking deep,
a hole hides
where once
a solid space
did reside.
Why the vacancy?
Oh, if only the
tick tock
of time could
halt, or
grind down to
near a trickle
then perhaps
my soul would have
the tenacity
to finally
awaken
once
more.
Philip Wardlow 2018
Finding her Hue
Hair a fire
cascades,
burning down to shoulders
bare.
Coy smile
seemingly innocent
but decadent
in desires running deep
I let her play the
victim to my victories
in her game
of dalliance.
Her mind is sharp,
keen is the blade
that is her tongue
which flicks
cutting through
my resolve.
Wickedly wonderful in her
need with a phrase or
two
at the sins she wishes
met upon her in bed
Angel eyes
wrapped in dark devil may care,
dare invitation.
And I dare…
Sweet pomegranate
Lips burst,
feeding my own, as my
lips stalk her body
slyly.
White alabaster
skin kissed with
the softness
of an innocent
doe, ache for my caress.
Voluptuous, sumptuous
hips play a rhythm
as my hands roam
to and fro.
Her beneath me
as I have now slipped
within.
And her world falls
away to that
secret place
only she knows
But I have a hint
of where she
goes.
In the way she curls
her toes.
When I cause
her world to flip
and transpose
to explode
in a vibrant
violent
calming
blue
fading
fading
dissolving
gradually into
all the hues
that ever were
of the color
blue.
Philip Wardlow 2018
My Ardor is Up
A delicate vulnerability
resides in her thighs,
with a resolve for action
in the utmost that
I dare not deny.
She’s a damsel in distress
but the dangers
in herself
and I’m in her,
and her sights
to hopefully
take it all away.
I see through everything
she once hid
Naked in body, now
naked in mind,
unmaking the made
up mess wrought,
undressing
a form long sought
hard by my hand,
addressing all
the numerous afflictions
unhealed
kissing each away,
bit by slow bit
I lay within
eye to eye
arousal acute
and my ardor
still
on the rise.
by Philip Wardlow 2018
When it comes upon me
There is nothing more
free than being
ME
There is nothing more to
life
than finding a
best friend in a
wife
There is nothing more than to have
those two things mingle
in an intense cacophony,
of a unique symphony.
And you just wade in
and swim.
Beautifully lost.
by Philip Wardlow 2018
Carousel of Life
First,
You are originally packed,
innards carefully selected
for the long trip
Zipped up,
thrown into a trunk,
weighed and tagged
with declarations
nay or yea about the status of your
being.
Then you are stuffed in
with the others,
in coldness,
while others may
sit in comfort, warm and secure.
You are very cold
so very cold
and its hard to breath
as you sit in an
unknown darkness
not knowing up from down
Abruptly,
ungentle hands throw
you about,
disoriented,
you tumble, fall and
are crushed,
to finally be dumped out into
the light
to traverse
around and around and around
walls flitting by, legs
and arms of non-distinct color
not wanted by you,
pick the
others
alongside you in
the endless revolving
journey.
Soon, you are the last one
on the turnstile
still circling and circling and circling
until you simply
stop
and wait for someone to pick you up
and you keep waiting
and Waiting
and Waiting
Waiting…
by Philip Wardlow 2018
Who Needs Sleep by Barenaked Ladies
Now I lay me down not to sleep
I just get tangled in the sheets
I swim in sweat three inches deep
I just lay back and claim defeat
Chapter read and lesson learned
I turned the lights off while she burned
So while she’s three hundred degrees
I throw the sheets off and I freeze
Lids down, I count sheep
I count heartbeats
The only thing that counts is
That I won’t sleep
I countdown, I look around
Who needs sleep?
(well you’re never gonna get it)
Who needs sleep?
(tell me what’s that for)
Who needs sleep?
(be happy with what you’re getting
There’s a guy who’s been awake
Since the Second World War)
My hands are locked up tight in fists
My mind is racing filled with lists
Of things to do and things I’ve done
Another sleepless night’s begun
Lids down, I count sheep
I count heartbeats
The only thing that counts is
That I won’t sleep
I countdown, I look around
Who needs sleep?
(well you’re never gonna get it)
Who needs sleep?
(tell me what’s that for)
Who needs sleep?
(be happy with what you’re getting
There’s a guy who’s been awake
Since the Second World War)
Who needs sleep?
(well you’re never gonna get it)
Who needs sleep?
(tell me what’s that for)
Who needs sleep?
(be happy with what you’re getting
There’s a guy who’s been awake
Since the Second World War)
There’s so much joy in life,
So many pleasures all around
But the pleasure of insomnia
Is one I’ve never found
With all life has to offer,
There’s so much to be enjoyed
But the pleasures of insomnia
Are ones I can’t avoid
Lids down, I count sheep
I count heartbeats
The only thing that counts is
that I won’t sleep
I countdown, I look around
Who needs sleep?
(well you’re never gonna get it)
Who needs sleep?
(tell me what’s that for)
Who needs sleep?
(be happy with what you’re getting
There’s a guy who’s been awake
since the Second World War)
Songwriters: Ed Robertson / Steven Page
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 