Category Archives: Inquiring Minds

My introduction page as a writer trying to get publsihed and a collection of posts showing who I am through ancetdotal musings about my life or how I am inspired to write or why I write and how I write in my own wierd little way.

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

See Me


We all at one time or two
sought the lingering approval
or watchful gaze of another,
be it from a fickle fan
adoring lover, or
sexual predator.
Everyone,
here or there
has drawn at the well of vanity
or emotional depravity.
Their mental cavities
within the mind
grinding away the days
in wanting to be seen,
be heard
be noticed
be exalted
a  desperate grab
at the grandiose
a fetish of an ultimately apathetic
world
which will simply move on
to the next shiny bauble
when it comes by
Flying
bye
bye
bye
as you whisper
“See me”

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Magical Maria


Do you know of magical Maria?
Some say she be
a sassy sprite with a  bit of a bite,
or perhaps a  nymph
wearing nary a stitch
frolicking and flitting
through the dark forest night,
just as nude as the moon
and as bright.

I was once told she be
a naughty gremlin who
causes all kind of ruckus
getting into much trouble
with no shame or blame
to share,
a real ne’er do well at times
mucking up more mystical
mischief than I ever did see
of anyone that could ever
be.

Ah, but the keenest of tales
say she is a fairy of much
renowned
A beauty of the rarest rare
with eyes of emeralds and
lips of the sweetest cherries
and red, red flowing hair
wrapping around a body soft
as a new born babe.

She rides a Unicorn some say
and if you are lucky enough
on a given day
you perchance may
just catch a glance
of the prettiest creature that
even rivaled the stars to
distraction.

If you be so lucky enough.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

The Solace of Us


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Pause,
be still
for there is solace in us,
we fools of love lost
now found.
Silent the raging of
the day,
for fortune
fills our cup
Sip
Sip
Sip it up
and
savor the flavor.
For you and I
are everything
that some might
deny in themselves
and wonder
at the end
of the day
why they ever did.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Desires of Red realized


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The ravaging of her
by me
is akin to a famished
man licking his plate clean,
then looking for more,
mouth open, and tongue tingling in anticipation
of feeding again on all the morsels
still not offered and hidden in
the closed secret cupboards of her that
are thrown open violently.
with a ravenous want
she heartedly
agrees in the taking of.

The thrill of her is
a fall of twelve thousand feet,
Plummeting, wind whipped by
a gravity of immense propositions
pulling me towards a
desirious body
that seeks my weight
to come crashing
into it,
only to  fall through and continue on
out the otherside
into her all over
again.
Forever falling.
Forever giving of everything
until our worlds
explode into
a thousand
times
a
thousand
colors
To slowly coalesce
into a calm
carressing
shade of vibrant
red
And a warm embrace.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Entropy is an Asshole


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Why does the “Happiness”
often seem to be derailed
by the struggle of it all?
The consistency of
Chaos never seems
to run out of fashion,
it just puts on a new hat
and goes out into the
world and laughs
while it fucks shit up.
All the while Order
sits at home
like a shut in
Picking up grains
of very white rice
off a very white linoleum floor
in the kitchen.
Is the struggle for that “It” , that
“Thing” the cause of it all.
Do other “Its” and “Things”
have to be broken and unbound
First,
before Chaos sits his ass down?
I ask you this, because,
all Order ever wanted was
a cup of coffee from the kitchen
to ease
the headache that Chaos
constantly gives him.
Yet here Order kneels on
the floor picking
up stupid grains
of rice
While his head pounds
and pounds
and pounds.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2018