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.

Just a Crazy Dream …


I checked into Motel Sadness and sat down my bags of discontent.
The mini bar was stocked well, so I grabbed the gin and mixed the tonic of my life, crushed in my Lemon Eyes, raised my glass, gave a toast, telling them all I was Sorry for ever crossing their path.
I downed that motherfucker in one gulp and prepared another,
and another, and another… for the Heart heart head of thoughts that were sure to come.
The day disappeared as night consumed, wrapping me up like a A Bolt from the Blue. I laid there. Just laid there until she came. I heard her jimmy the lock of my life and Desire walked on through. She was high, and not very lady like as she straddled me,
high heels digging, she whispered with the reddest lips wrapped in  a wicked grin,
I really want you to hate me, Cuz I’ll never love you baby”.  Then she got up and walked out to join a passing Parade.
So I got up….left my room and I ran and ran, like a child wild in a playground
down a street with no shadows; even though the street lamps cast
a deep sodium glow.
It seems I can’t even entice a dark silhouette to accompany me. Make a Shadow  I intoned Make a Shadow  so I dove,  into a dumpster deep, and mingled with the garbage heaped, and fell fell fast asleep.
The Morning after came and the bears were rummaging, waking me from a better world
not so obscene.
I couldn’t face the ground with  its vicious disregard to support so I climbed and climbed up the fire escape to the tippity top of the tar covered roof, sticky from the bright midday sun and jumped.
The dust flew from wings in full extension as a Feather floated to the alley below but I was light and I went up;  on currents caught, finally realizing I was free.
Go….
Go
Go
Said my soul,  Go
be that beautiful Monster they all believe you to be.

by Philip  Wardlow 2016

feathers
by Raven555Lady

Embrace


Embrace

Embrace me

with a quiet desperation

as we dance.

For the music could stop

at any moment.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Thoughts Fly


The mind follows where the thoughts fly to, from plummeting to the darkest deep depths of despair , to soaring above a sun kissed peak of pleasing passions, or to perch on naked branch as a comforting wind caresses you, letting you know you are never alone in the world.

ThougthsFly

Ship in a Bottle


ShipBottle

 

Ship in a Bottle~

A sailing we will go!

A sailing we will go!

But on the currents we shall float

on a ship in a bottle in a big row boat.

The wind cannot touch our sails,

only our faces as we sit,

atop the glass

on a encased little wooden ship.

Our phonograph shall play at the stern

pushing us melodiously along

as we sit on the bow of the

bottle as the clouds pass low.

The little sailor man below, dressed so primly

but with his big straw hat to shade the sun,

 shall keep a firm grip on the

tiller to steer our unknown path

to the unknown.

And I and my friend, shall munch

on little sandwiches come lunch

and just enjoy the day

as it passes by,  spying our fancy friends

in their hot air balloons in the distance.

As we sit on our  ship in a bottle in a big row boat.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Every Day


present

Every Day~

Every day is a gift,

a fucking gift.

Why? Because I said so.

So unwrap that fucker.

Rip open the packaging,

fling the red red red ribbons to the four winds.

Bite that mother loving tape with your teeth if you must

Is that a Snaaarl I hear from you…?

It’s your present.

Do what you must.

Dive, dive, dive into that damn box!

See, see , see, what you’ve got?

Fuck.

Socks.

Slip’em on for a go….

Now go…just fucking go.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

AT THE MARATHON (GAS STATION)~


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

Life


Life~

 

IT BEGINS WITH A BEGINNING

AND AN ENDING

CYCLE UPON CYCLE OF LENDING

IT HAPPENS WITH THE WIND OF FATE

PRODDING AND PUSHING,Waterfall

EDGING TOWARDS A DATE

WILLS BECOME BENT.

AN ORGANISM LIFE IS SPENT.

ONE WILL BLOOM IN ITS’ PLACE.

BUT ASSUME ANOTHER

FACE.

TIME IS GOVERNED BY LIFE AND

IN TURN LIFE IS GOVERNED BY TIME.

EVER EDGING AND CRAWLING TOWARDS

THE SUBLIME

 

by Philip Wardlow

Soul Vacation


Soulleaving

 Soul Vacation~

 

If my soul took a vacation,

escaped from my body

and left me sitting here

in my cold dark room

would I care to care

that it took a cruise?

Would my eyes look at

life differently?

Would my loves & passions

be muted?

Would my pains be gone?

Is it a sacrifice to lose one over

the other in spite of?

Again would I care when

my soul is gone?

I would think there would be

a longing for a forgotten

sweetness

that could not be defined

by my minds eye that’s now

blind.

If my soul left me.

Maybe.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016