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.

Music lets Roll – A poem


Music ~

 

Ride Ride that wave that cascades down your soul and over that mind in quarter time…flow flow…and juxtapose that tapping of those feet with that beat in the bass…let me see that smile shine as your teeth flash in a wicked grin …let the sweat pour down as you thump and bump…dance dance and ride ride that wave that rolls ….as you never ever have reason to complain when the music comes to stay stay stay….now play boy play!

 

Philip Wardlow 2014

 

Peanuts-Dancing-GIF

Perishable


Perishable~

My finger, one finger
traces down her temple
over her sweet cheeked smilejar
eyes lighted
just for me
just for me…

So many emotions
behind that smile for me

I must take each of them that
I discover and put them in their own mason jar
and screw the lid down tight
for safe keeping.

To preserve
what surely will be lost.

For you see, we are all delicate
things.
Perishable.

This environment is not kind
to such fragile creatures.

But I wonder.
What is ever meant to last?

I reach for one of the mason jars
and take it down off upon the shelf,
unscrew its top, and tip
its’ contents into my waiting mouth.

I smile and reach for another.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

She – a Poem


She ~

She’s beautiful… not oh, look at her pretty face I want to fuck her beautiful.

Of course I would in any angle and position I could put her in.

But beautiful like an explosion of all the senses that she touches in you.

From your heart to your hand which finds all her release points.

Her eyes that find yours across the room , wanting nothing else but to please…

She’s beautiful in the way that leads you to want to wrap around her like a blanket .

She’s an addiction, an affliction a contradiction at the apex of her attraction

She’s trouble.. oh so much trouble

but the good kind you want to unwind

and let spin and spin and spin

She is simply a connection, a puzzle piece,

that missing part that you didn’t know

was apparently needed

to make your soul complete.

Downcast
watercolor by Steve Hanks

By Philip Wardlow 2014

Embers in Transition – A poem


BurningPassion Embers in Transition ~

My nature has always been as bright embers…

clumped,  low and smoldering

always smoldering within me.

Never roaring, never a  conflagration

never wanting to burn bright,

to consume and conquer.

A fearful ball of flame, apprehensive

of overreaching its borders,

Self constrained and wrapped tight.

Hidden and held down.

I’m burning up.

layer by slow layer from the inside.

I need to let it trickle out

and let the air in.

Feed it,

give it what it wants….

So it can truly burn like

it has always wished

it could

From without.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Wild Child – A poem


WildChild
By Artist Noe Two

Wild Child ~

 

Feral eyes
look back at me from the dark corner
of the room you crouch in.
Though your eyes are in shadow,
I sense the defiance in them.
You’ve been too long out in the wild
child.
Too long.
The woods may be your friend but
you need some taming girl.
Hair is unkept, fingernails split
cracked and bloodied
from all the bodies you’ve buried
each time you escape.
The pain leaks from you like a water through
a sieve.
Elusive composure, hunched and bent
reluctant words pulled in a snarl of
savage civility.
I know you, that soul that sleeps
so so deep within.
I see it fighting to overcome.
Always fighting,
beating and snapping, biting, clawing.
Painfully beautiful as you are
painfully aware of your
own vulnerability when you
allow the outside in.
Wild child you be
as your dark eyes look to
me for true
release.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow

Passions – Quote


“Objects in life, be it a story,poem,or photograph, which are filled with a perfect passion reminds  and guides us to strive for a portion of it…” – by Me

 

 

Krampus Comes !! – A Dark Christmas poem


 

 

Krampus
Art by Brom

 

 

Be ye, young or old,

as a child of nine or ninety-nine

We all look to the magical time

when ol’ St. Nick comes a calling,

that jolly grey bearded man with a smile for all.

Traveling down the road  in his horse drawn sled

from  late dusk to early dawn.

The good ones know they’ll be visited by him,

adorned and wreathed with gifts from

head to toe.

They will sleep a peaceful slumber, full

of dreams of the bright morning to come

and the presents they so richly deserve

from a year of being so very very good.

I am afraid some may not be so inclined

at this joyous holiday time to partake of

all this festive cheer.

For you see, there are some children who lay deep in their

covers under the shadow of night as it plays

through their cold window pane,

waiting for him to come,

St. Nicks dark brother, the Other,

called Krampus to some.

This dark horned,  hairy tailed, cloven hooved creature

knows your heart of hearts

and all the naughty things you’ve done.

And he is not forgiving like

good ol’ St. Nick.

With bundled birch sticks in hand

he will greet you with a sharped tooth grin

right before he lays into your

skin,

To beat you about the legs and arms,

a sweet painful present for all your

year’s sins and wicked charms.

Then if you have been especially bad

and you know who you are.

He will take down his big black

ruck sack from upon  his back

Open it up, grab you up

and stuff you in.

Then quick out the bedroom window

he flies to disappear down the dark road

with you never to be seen

by your family 

ever again.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

 

 

krampusWalking

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A spanking ensues….my most risqué Erotic poem ever? Nope – Adult Content be warned


 

spanking

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Spanking Ensues…

 

 A smirk, a flick of the hair, a defiant look with an akimbo stance.

Whether it’s a raised voice,

or a direction not followed correctly or in a timely

manner.

All these belligerent bratty overtures

directed my way

earn you a strike upon an ass

properly presented upon my command.

Test me.

Stinging slap soon to be followed by a loud

sweet smack.

Every incident, a blow up your ass cheeks,

every palm placed with ferocity

to put you in your place.

Your hips upon my knees, ass facing up at me, hard cock pressed against your stomach, for I relish this.

Pussy wet…

I can feel you drip…drip…drip

As the electrical lines of force

travel from hand to buttocks

to course into your core

soaking you from the inside out.

I smile to myself, arm poised high,

waiting….taunting…teasing,,,,escalating

the scene.

Because I know

in your soul

you need this, relish it.

as you embrace the familiar pain like a

a long lost friend.

And we are both content

 

 By Philip Wardlow

 

All of It – A Poem


Hands

All of It ~

 

She’s everything,
cute, luscious,devine
wickedly mischievous
a show off, and needy,
funny yet pinch your nipples
serious at times
A passionate soul,
with a demanding nature to be
nurtured and loved and
hugged.
Eyes which twinkle yet bore
into yours, wanting
and wanting
more
and more and more
Damn she’s a chore.
But oh boy, when she asks for
more.
You know what I mean
You smile, because you want to
give it.
With her, your in it.
Deep….balls and all.
To the wall…to the floor…
in her arms and she in yours
and is there any
better place to be?

 

 

by Philip Wardlow

Time Enough – A short story


Hourglass,_dying

Time Enough

By Philip Wardlow

I saw her and time stopped. Literally it stopped. Except me. I was the only thing still moving, still breathing, still conscience, still in the real now as I called it. At least I think I was anyways. That part has never been truly clear to me. Being real that is, because I felt apart, always apart, never a part of.

She was just crossing the street at 5th Avenue and Broad Street. You know the place. She was right on the corner where that wonderful bakery presided.

The smell at that corner was just heaven. Hmm…I noticed I could actually still smell the sweet aroma of cinnamon in the air even as time was stopped there on that corner. Must be the molecules suspended in the air entering my ol’factory of a nose that I had walked right into. I breathed in deeply the nostril massaging pleasant sweet smell of cinnamon again. Remember, it’s the little things. Always.

The smell made me wonder if time had stopped everywhere and not just on this street, or this city , or state, or country, or Earth, or solar system, but perhaps everywhere in the entire universe. Just for me.

Was I this special to be given this power – this gift – had it been given? But I digress. Back to the lovely smell of the bakery…no, no, no. I meant her, the women, just beginning to cross the street at 5th and Broad.

Her name was Angelica. And she was angelic, gloriously so, with long dark hair, full lips, bright green magical eyes. She walked with the grace of a ballet dancer on long legs in black high heels. And I was here to save her life.

How’s that you say?

I had just seen her end in a bloody mess with legs splayed at very acute and obtuse angles on this very street she was standing. In not more than five seconds (if time were to resume) an old grizzled taxi driver would be turning the corner down the street to end any future days she might have left. So I had taken upon myself and backed time up ten seconds because that was not about to happen on my watch. Not to such a lovely creature as her.

I have completely forgotten where my real life began relative to where other people’s lives are at, like this Angelica, as it relates to my own life.

I mean, is she older than me or I am older than her? I mean in the sense of the chronological order of events as they have unfolded thus far in this universe. You follow? Oh I’m sorry, I forgot to mention something vitally important.

You see, every time I stop time or go backwards in time and do something just a smidge different, then resume, I find things have shifted ever so slightly around me. Like a nudge or a ripple flowing out from the place of change. That ripple is a fickle thing, for you see it may get smaller and smaller until the last thing in the time line just weakens and dies out with no one the wiser but me.

But at times if the change is big enough, then a big ripple or nudge is produced.

To my dismay, that if it is truly a major nudge, a divergence happens out in time at a certain point. Meaning a new timeline occurs. A new possibility comes into being down many avenues that had never existed. Then I’m screwed. For you see I find I am unceremoniously pulled like a piece of taffy into that new existence and the other is gone forever.

To count, I have screwed myself over one-thousand three hundred fifty five times…sorry, make that one-thousand three hundred fifty six counting saving Angelica at this very moment. If I am truly being honest she is the reason for over eleven-hundred of those times. The rest happened because I was young and stupid. Now it’s just because I’m young and in love which is its own kind of stupid.

I have saved her life so many times in so many different ways it has created a major divergence each time. So I’m stuck in the new timeline with her and the rest of the universe I guess. Which is fine I like being stuck in that way. I couldn’t bear to be stuck in any time without her.

But damn it all to hell, either she’s the most un-luckiest girl in the world, or she’s just one of those people simply destined to die.

Do I believe in destiny? Fuck no.

I do believe something in the Universe is gunning for my sweet Angelica and I am going to find out who or what, even it kills me first, else my name is not –

Shift ~

The din and cacophony of the city came crashing into me like a thousand locusts knocking against my ears. I was always amazed at how quiet the world was when I forgot about it in that instance when it was stopped.

Time hates to be stopped… forward, backward, not a problem, but it’s very reluctant to stand still. Yes, it obliges me, but I can feel it fuming to start up as again as soon as I stop it. It’s a like a tea kettle on the stove coming to a slow boil. If I don’t start it up in time it always strains and strains and builds and builds and then boom. Time starting back up that way always gives me a headache. But I digress. I have something to do and I only have seven seconds do it in now.

“Excuse me Miss Ward.”  She ignored me of course like she always does in these circumstances and kept on walking to cross the street.

I then did the only thing I could think of in that moment. I pulled hard on the lapel of her rain coat and dragged her bodily back to the doorway of the bakery shop out of harm’s way.

“What the hell are you doing!?” she asked, looking at me frightfully, eyes like big green saucers, but at the same time balling up her fist ready to slug me. She was a good slugger. I think I have been hit at least a hundred or more times by her. I have gotten pretty good at avoiding her punches. Most of them anyways.

“I am attempting…” I was about to finish with “to save you”. But was interrupted by the taxi driver plowing through the intersection flinging the unluckys into the air with his one ton yellow deathmobile.

I caught a glimpse of the old man behind the wheel as he plowed through them all, slowing nary a bit. He looked right at me at me in that slice of a second. I swear he did. And he looked pissed, with his face all scrunched up like he had bitten into a lemon and I had taken his puppy away from him. Something tickled inside of me when our eyes connected. I swear I saw him mouth the words “you” before he sped on by and around the next corner leaving carnage in his wake.

Angelica collapsed in my arms after that. I pulled her into the bakery and had her lay back in one of the booths as the rest of people in the place streamed out to ogle or help with the accident.

Now was my best chance, I had to find that old man behind the wheel before time shifted and I was pulled again like taffy into the next divergence. He was part of this in some way. I could feel it. She was safe. Again. Time to go.

“You knew didn’t you?” She looked up at me as she laid there in the booth.

“Yes.” I said. I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead and she didn’t pull back from it. I turned from her to leave. Time was a wasting even for me.

“Wait. Where are you going? Who are you?”   Angelica looked to me for answers. Always she asked the same questions. Long ago I had stayed and had answered them and many others. But not anymore. Besides, she would forget me with the next shift as always. And that was too painful to bear again.

“Why your guardian angel of course.” I said, as I gave her a sly grin I knew she loved so well. I exited the bakery in a flourish and a wink as I stepped out of time.

Shift ~

The End (or to be continued)