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.

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

She Entered – Warning Erotic Content

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She entered the room
wearing red devil lingerie
gave me a smile
and removed the halo from her
head
and hung it upon the bedpost
telling me it would just get in the way.

She pushed me into the chair
that sat across from the bed.
Lingering, she bent in for a
kiss but instead gave
a bite
Then went to her knees.
Lips hard pressed against my cock
still held trapped in my pants.
She blew hard
Hot breath filtered and conveyed
through denim
A furnace to rival my own
Eyes cast up
Hands deft
Zip
Cock exposed, unlocked.
Sly grin as she grabbed with both
hands,
stare she still did
right into me
Relishing each tiny fragment
of this intimate moment.
Step by Step
she walked through my mind
Knowing my need.
I give her hers as
a fistful of hair filled my hands
and forced her down.
Then I entered the scene
and tore into her.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

by Philip Wardlow 2016
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Now

4 Comments

Embracing the fear
The thrill
The escape
Adrenaline rush
Skin warming
You
Your body
Wanted
Must have
Now
No waiting
Who’s watching
Who may watch
I dont fucking care
Just bend over
Now

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Burn

10 Comments

fire_woman_effect_by_chaz

Let me learn you.
Let me take residence
in your mind
for the moment
and kick up my feet
next to the fireplace
inside of you.

Let me feed that fire,
stoke it…shift it,
sustain it as I warm myself.

What are the limits
you will climb to?
Will you burn the house down
to get to me?

Will you eat and eat like
a fire does.

Consuming everything
wanting more and more?

Go ahead.
For I will burn with you.

From deep red, to a pale yellow
to bright orange,
dancing and blinding
in the night.

I will burn with you
leaving nothing left
but ashes in the
end.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds

It took only One – Olivia Engle

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On Earth Day I thought to cite the other species that is fighting against extinction….not in their lives themselves but in the way they value their own lives and way of living at the cost of others. What is dying in us is the ability to be empathetic . We are letting apathy grow in us at the cost of others. Our population is growing, yes, but our lack of compassion is not keeping step with that rise in our numbers. I am just asking you to CARE just a little more than you did yesterday…

#unsung

 

Please also go to  theFeatheredSleep to see about participating in #Unsung heroes in writing your own little piece on your own blog.  🙂

Philip Wardlow's avatarAin't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets..

OliviaEngel

It took only one face on the list to make my brown eyes brim,

It took only one big glorious smile to enter into me and

have my heart fill  up and overflow onto the floor.

I didn’t want to look too deeply for it cut too deep,

yet I feel I should for her.

Here was a life never to know another day.

Here was a little girl with laughter in her

eyes and a future as bright as the sun;

I could feel that warmth radianting,

and seeping into me as I saw her

soul shining forth from the screen.

It took only one and there are

so many more.

It took only one and her name

was Olivia Engle.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

#unsung

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Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Perhaps the Dream is dreaming me

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I stroll this earth in all my Fragile trodding  from point A to Point B.  Clip Clopping in and out of the lives  of others.  My footfalls echo off their souls and their smiles which always seem to gradually fade.

But never mind me,  just let it rain all around this person I call I, which was  placed in this time, upon this big space by unseen hands, holy or not. Forgotten or not. I am here and that’s a good thing.

“Truth hits everybody, ” I heard her say,  as she walked on by,  and I could see the Hole in my Life in her words as she pushed her cart on down the street and rounded the corner leaving me to think on things too much. I have much yet do. Much more compels.

So Lonely you think I be?   Not hardly,  for I see others just as desperate as me trying to flee this dream. Stay oh rats!  Stay. This is a grand ship! Let’s share a piece of cheese!

I pass a bakery and smell the sweet aroma of cinnamon and raspberry and it makes me Hungry for you and brings me to Once upon a daydream thinking of that when of  wanting you to Be my girl, Sally , or whatever your name was back then.

Seven days was all it took to create this place so they say. Perhaps whoever did it should have taken just a little more time and perhaps, just perhaps, there might have been just a little less pain involved for us all. Ah I digress, I always do.

When the world is running down like the so called pundits and arm chair philosophers like to speculate about, I recall all the lost Sallys, and the sweet smells, and all the rain that I have tread in and I can only smile. Because those are my memories, my experiences and they may not be here tomorrow. No matter how bad they were, or good…they are mine and mine alone and I treasure that.

That’s the shape of my heart on the matter. So I continue to dream this dream.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

memories

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Will you be?

5 Comments

 

friend

 

 

Hello little guy,

will you be my friend?

For all mine have dissolved away

in the pouring rain

that has fallen throughout

this sad sad day.

Lights shine,

their energy

wanes,

sputters,

ends.

How many

cycles

should

be endured?

How many

lessons

need

be learned

until

a sense

comes to

mind

that I

truly

never had

any friends.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

P.S This poem  is NOT  about me just so you know. I often like to play with POV of other people.

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Warrior Chi

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She strives

Tested, time and again.

Blood spilled just as readily asWarriorChi

her own tears.

A woman.  Just a woman? Never.

A warrior,

A leader with  a heart laid bare

A protector…

keen of mind,

going in

with innate skills

As death places its deal

upon her table and

she answers back

in kind.

For she was forged in a lifetime

of sacrifice.

Do you hear that?

A soft whisk,

a honing of a blade to

a sharpness like none

other.

Delicate, determined, Beautiful.

Yet, who holds those warrior hands

As the light dims on her day?

Who holds her heart?

and brushes

her tears her away?

Stay strong.

Stay strong Warrior Chi.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Bloody Ballet

3 Comments

 

 

 

Ballet.png

Bloody Ballet~

She pirouettes

adorned in a dress

of black gossamer,

Spinning with blade

in hand to music only

she hears.

Flame red hair sweeps the air,

flinging outward, as

drops of crimson

drip from the tip

to the cold hard floor;

knives held tight by

delicate fingers.

Her hands move with

the intensity of the allegro.

Alive, brisk, and deadly.

The sharpness of her tools

keep up with her demands

of dissection and delving.

The other dancers

fall before her

as if in silent repose.

Arabesque to glissade,

her strong legs coupe

across the floor,

she cuts and cuts and cuts

and does a sourbresaut

like a cat jumping

onto her final partner

in this ensemble of now

only two.

She seeks his heart

as the point punches through.

Death follows

Yet still it beats

as she holds it,

Still it beats

as she takes a bite.

Still it beats

as she rises from

her grand plie.

and takes a bow

to the crowd

from

center stage.

By Philip Wardlow 2013

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

She tries

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image

I am at a lost
to fathom the depths
and heights of the walls
of her.

The precarious walk
she takes in the lofts
of the upper reaches
must be harrowing.

Her balance must be precise
leveled on the balls of feet
which tread a path where
a head floats in the clouds
never looking down.

At me.
The Flea.

Such is she.

That ignores me.
For who am I
but who laid his heart bare
for her.

It seems I have always known my place in her heart was but a vault
for another key to release
her from a prison.
That I could never see.

But she tries.
This girl. This woman.
She still tries
for me.

By Philip Wardlow 2016