All posts by Philip Wardlow

Philip Wardlow is a burgeoning ever growing writer and poet delving into all the various aspects of the human condition. His writing tastes run to the Erotic most recently. In the recent past he has written to the Dark Urban Fantasy & Horror Genre which he still loves as well. He likes to dabble in all the various forms of poetry; from the sexy to the humorous, to the profound and beautifully sentimental and reflective. He has only been at this chosen path for a few of years and has produced one Novella published as an Ebook on Amazon called “Roadkill”. He has submitted and continues to submit various stories and poetry works to publications for consideration. Philip is working on a collection of Erotic Poetry due out in 2021 in ebook form and perhaps in paperback. He is also concurrently working hard on his other passion; photography. Philip believes he can have each foot planted in two distinctly different worlds of creativity there by inciting new ideas and growth at the same time in both.
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Come Back as you Fall Away

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fall
Photo by Liam Carleton

 

Autumn rose from languid bed, out of her naked repose

alongside my own.

Against the soft light of day the shadows lengthened

around her curves.

She turned to give a smile as her hair

fluttered in a wind that wasn’t there.

Leaning in, she whispered her discontent

with a delicate kiss, cool and crisp

meant only for me.

I saw her truly then,

a desperation sought after,

a sorrow borrowed,

a beguiling mystery to be followed

But eventually lost.

She was my season, my breath

drawn and exhaled so slowly

as to stop time in its tracks.

Yet, she fell away, eyes downcast

always knowing the direction

she would eventually go.

Don’t, I begged.

but instead live in me.

Through all the dark

and the cold to come, and scorching rays

of days

stay within,

stay within,

And come back to bed with me.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, Poetry/Quote of the Week

When they speak…

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speak

 

 

 

sandwhich

Inquiring Minds

The one eyed man is king…

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I keep hearing we are giving one person like Trump  way too much importance.  And that it’s only four more years until we have to get rid of him anyways and he’s not the only one making the decisions and blah blah…then why do we have a President if you place so little value on him or her.  Answer me that.

One person means nothing, can do nothing, affects nothing….really…so why am I alive?

What do I matter then?

Seeing Trump do a 180 degree turn from how he carried himself in the election  will never happen…

He may be a consoling  energy to those who voted him but you MUST understand he is the exact opposite to many others..

Where you hated  a Clinton Presidency , they absolutely FEAR a Trump Presidency For their family and their friends.  Most of his platform was based on keeping those people down and out of our country.

I’m sorry you don’t understand their fears…and legitimate concerns for their day to day lives…but you should start trying to.

This country has been set back…whether you see it now  or not. Trumps Presidency will affect you in the negative.

But if you wish to go about your day…saying Ho hum…just don’t complain when he brings agendas to the table that are divisive and dangerous and gets people killed, persecuted, ignored, down beaten mentally, or ashamed,

Pick your poison.

Trump will not disappoint you in that…but he’s only one man, how much trouble can he cause…

I’m sure everything will be just fine.

I am sure he has all your best interests in mind and will do all he can to make your wildest dreams come true.

 Trump is seventy years old after all.  I am sure his last 50yrs of his adult life was just a ruse and he really is a smart, articulated, caring and wise person for all the people of America…

Yeah, what was I thinking. Its obvious he has been planning this  since he was twenty ( palm to the forehead) of course…wow…he’s a genius..

cyclops

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

What say you?

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hike

 

Wee moments stuck in thought

stuck in the thought

of too many thoughts.

Where does life go when you let it go?

Does it strap on sneakers and have a run.

Not caring the road its on.

Well I  care for scenic, something with  a view,

a journey,

challenging but not reckless or cruel

to the soles of my shoes.

Mountains peaked, craggy and windswept,

leading to dreamy sittings on precarious ledge,

fertile valleys , dark and deep, muddy and froggy with

all the chirps and burps to be offered in the sun

either draped in shade, or tinkled on

by a rainy day.

What say you?

What do you really say?

As you crouch upon your porch

seeing the world run away?

Ah, you have no sneakers?

A poor excuse.

Grab your slippers, or those

old flip flops.

And simply start out for a little walk.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Stingy Jack

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Stingy_Jack_by_Phenylketonurics

Good Old Jack,

walks in the twilight between our world and what you would

call the other.

Into the out of, on paths that only he can see

with Fool’s Fire held in a hand-carved gourd to light his way.

A Ne’er-do-well if ever there was.

Cursed to wander the earth.

Never to know heaven or hell.

You may see his spook light bob in a graveyard or two as you pass,

especially on All Hallows Eve and on through to all Souls Day.

Wise men say, Old Jack’s looking for a way into heaven or hell

on such nights as these when the veil is thin.

If you see him, it’s best to keep on walking.

He has anger in him, a deep abiding bitterness swells.

like the ebb and flow of time that has trapped him.

He will have no hesitation to collect your soul should

you cross his path.

So beware or you may find yourself dead or a mindless

freak.

by Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Life in Death or is it Death in Life

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SkeletonLight

Death appreciates life , just as life appreciates death.

Both are impartial to the other.

A cold touch caresses the

beauty which flits to and fro

with seemingly

chaotic intention.

How are we to interpret the horrors of this vitality

when we ourselves are trapped in a purgatory

of our own design?

Perhaps a small light

shall lead the way for each of us

in our final hours as we lay

in our deep dark

grave.

By Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Its Halloween Haikus!

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PasstheTorch

Blade of souls passes,
from old to young hands gladly
to cut future fates.

Blackcat

A friend to shadows.
Tracks of misfortune follow
feline on the prowl.

CreepyImage

I see you creeping,
Big eyes, sharp teeth, wicked smile
Waiting for a hug