Category Archives: GiFs for your Entertaiment

Lost One


1a7a605d-66ce-4e45-87c3-65df728b0c9f

I’m a melancholy mind
floating in forgotten winds
never fully
free of the damaged
parts that float around,
hard to catch,
hard to see unless
you look deep into me
I want you to, yet
I fear you are too distracted
and I cant blame you
for who you are but
I need you to see.
No one has really
ever found it but
I want you to.
I fear you cant.
The beautiful kid
that is still lost
and needs to find the way back
To run, to laugh,
With a new heart in hand
But this sun is
Blinding
And home is only
a made up memory
that already set

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Beautiful Drop Dead Dizziness


I won’t complain at the tiredness
in my eyes and befuddled brain,
because of the late night tryst
you and I partook of
when the clothes
came off.
as you electrify
all my senses
in one intense
sequence of
events starting with
a drawn out kiss
full of delicious
heart felt
endearing sweet
recklessness
and abandon
that even after
being gone from you
a day, or an hour or two I find
I miss.
Wholehearedly and objectively.
Profusely, never obtusely
I see that I am good
for you and you are
good for me
You are just
the right kind
of drop dead
dizzy.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

The Moon and the Stars told Me


I sat on my front porch
and stared out at the dark.
The moon was full
as was the sky full
of stars
and fireflys.
I was seven maybe six
I was happy in that
moment,
content,
Looking up at the sky
Lost in the moon
I thought of her
a girl I never knew
she would be pretty
she would love me
deeply as I loved her
And we would
be together
for all our days
I thought of her
somewhere else
looking at the moon
thinking the same
of me
“I will meet her one
day,” I whispered
to the night.
Then I went quietly
back inside.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

If you Fall


 

The future
is an undulating
bright blue fluid,
opaque in
clarity
carrying us along
in seeming chaotic
currents
Ever pulling
Ever churning
Yet,
a sense of purpose resides in its
flow,
a earning
a conviction
creating a burning
In the dark
depths
Of our lost souls,
but if you
should cascade and
Fall
Tumbling
Over
A
Sheer
Cliff
Wall
Well, then I
guess
I’ll soon
follow after.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2018

The Softness


 

You are the soft points
between the hard
The smooth curves that
trace my heart
You are a delicate
touch
earning for more
with only a fingertip
of intention
caressing me
with a whisper
of a pained soul
reflected in my
own,
ever sinking
deep
deep
deep
Inescapably deep
into the softness
of all
that is you.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Little Prince Quote by Antoine De Saint Exupery


“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred  thousand other little boys.  And I have no need of you, and you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a Fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, than we shall need each other. To me you shall be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.

by Antione De-Saint Exupery –  from The Little Prince 

 

Something has Died


I feel the husk of its dead shell
rubbing against my innards.
Grating,
poking
No piece of it breathes
yet it prods.
Reminding me it’s always
there.
Just sitting.
Drained and desiccated,
where once
it was full
to overflowing,
now nothing
but decay
absence
a void filled
only with
black matter.
A negative life if you will
The blackest of
black
Gouge out my eyes, then tape them
over times ten and
throw me in a capped well
type of black.
Something has died
in me
And I don’t know what.
But I want it back.
Alive.
So I go in search.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

Mystery Girl


She flits
amongst the tangled
night in dreams
that I have not known
Yet the desire is
there to partake
of the darkness
that abounds and
surrounds from within her
Mingle me in your madness
Tangle me in your limbs
crawling across your skin
With my warm lips
against cold body
gradually gaining heat
the more you encompass
me.
Your disguise is my own
you think you wear
unbeknownst.
I know.
Mystery girl,
still a sad
forlon whistling tune
hanging in the wind,
a shadow dimly cast by
a light trapped in a closet
from a future not promised
nor sure
she sits tap, tap, tapping
her index finger
on a desk that hardly
ever saw a word written
upon it.
I listen for
her echo
Deep, hallow,
beautiful
wanting.
I listen for it
in the night
as she flits and flutters
in the dark.

by Philip Wardlow 2017