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

Shiny Metal – A poem

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My Shiny Metal~

 

I float in this boat,

bobbing at

the whim of the waves on my course.

A slave to nature’s most erosive

force.

Always weighed down by other

distractions in my journey.

Sometimes I hardly know its there,

so quiet it can be, so still

never moving an inch.

When did it first settle on to me,

this quiet rage.

Clinging to me like barnacles on the

hull of  my ship deep at sea.

Eating away at the steel in me

as it collects.

This quiet rage.

becomes cumbersome,

a weight that’s hard to

slough off easily.

Lift me from the ocean on timbered

beams and let me drip dry.

Now scrape, and scrape, and scrape

See my shiny metal gleam?

I must be diligent.

Scrape, Scrape, Scrape.

Lest this quiet rage

causes me to sink into

the abyss.

to become

just useless scrap

resting at the bottom

of a dark sea.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Shiny-Metal-Texture

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Flying…

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raven

Flying~

 

 

Flying….I…ME…Searching with my lantern,

alight on currents of cold dusky air

The darkness below doesn’t feel the light

that leaks out and dribbles out like

bits of cold rain.

Fall, Fall, Fall

little light of mine….fall

a trickle of a smile

a patter of patience

a sprinkle of spoken

words full of regret.

Flying…lost…ME

in coalescing clouds

fusing, binding,

here I am, mingling

with the molecules as

I shift through the

atmosphere

Ever Apart…ever Onward.

Flying…as the light drips

down to the darkness

below…searching.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

I trudge – A Poem

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I Trudge~
Through snow I trudge
heavy of foot with boots to insulate from the cold that creeps
always its creeps….
lost imprints of foot prints
swirl away to nothingness
as I look back through the raging blizzard
surrounding mesnow
I am not lost
For I am forever moving forward in the night.
towards that one star that peeks.
Wringing frigid calloused hands in gloves
never quite warm up to stave off the cold
I find these tired legs and cold hands
are a badge of honor
through a life sought to beat me down
I’m still standing
still walking
still wringing my cold hands
even they may look worn
they are strong
just as my legs are
which trudge
even though ever losing the imprints
of a past I have earned in sheer exertion
of a spirit that will always burn in me.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Inquiring Minds, Stories and Story Excerpts

Letting Go – A Very Short Story

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building

 

 

Letting Go~

“I’m gonna let go, but I don’t know where I’m gonna fall to?” asked the dirty faced little boy who hung limply from a clothesline in the pitch blackness over a deserted alley some four stories high.

“That’s right Michael,” said the other much older boy who hung out the window with one hand in a tight knuckled grip on the window sill and the other on the clothesline from which Michael hung.

“You gotta drop straight down and let us see what you’re made of.  We’ve all had to do it, you won’t be the first,” the boy said, in a matter fact tone.

Michael looked up from where he hung at the older boy who had spoken to him, his face and body were hidden in the myriad of shadows the surrounding buildings cast upon him. It seemed to Michael that the shadows spoke to him, the voice didn’t belong to anyone at all just a disembodied entity wanting him to fall to his doom. Michael looked up higher to the stars overhead, his only source of light. He gazed at the nighttime sky, the dancing twinkling night.  He had never noticed the stars twinkle as much as he did this night. It made him ponder, it made him think. It made him come to a decision.

He took one last look, time to see what he was made of he thought. He gave the shadowy boy a nod and let go. Just like that.

He fell for an eternity. His long hair was pulled upward as he heard the rush of air flow past his ears.  The beat of his heart was the only other intrusion upon his senses as he fell. The stars above were lost in a deep blackness that couldn’t be pierced, like falling down a well at night.

Thump!

He had landed and he was alive. Somehow he was alive.  Michael got up and stood amidst the cheering, hooting and hollering of the other boys that had waited down below. Then he simply turned from them and walked away and never looked back. He did look up though at the twinkling stars.

The End

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Kissing you Violently

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Kiss
Kissing you Violently ~
This land is vast,
a kingdom of twists
and false turns,
full of dragons, goblins, trolls,
and all kinds of viciousness.

You are lost in it,
meandering to and fro.

Bogs, quicksand, dark woods
and sweeping storms rage
as you huddle in a hole
in a hollowed out stone hill.

Yet you travel on, for the storms
always settle for just a slice of time,
just a slice,
same as the monsters which stop in their
roaming, if only a bit.

Enchantments abound,
seemingly fair of nature,
always to turn to a curse
soon revealed,
as the invisible ropes
binding you deep on a pedestal
force a lucid sleep,
of nightmares you cannot place.

Knuckles bloodied
against a stone wall which
will never fall.

I punch.

See? Nary a chip.

So I climb…

Breath spent in exhaling
as lungs heave
with exertion
at muscles spent,
screaming with fatigue.

I find you sleeping.
Fitfully.

A beautiful wretch of a woman
The only kind I would
ever seek.

A Prince of Fools I may be
perhaps, but still a
knowing knight am I in the end,
for only a violent kiss
will bring you back to
life.

Not one of wishes
and hopes and dreams
or even love,
but one of a passion
to rival a thousand
wants and deeds.

And as I look to you
I am full of
violence
this day.

As I bend down
and kiss you violently
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

My Pillow – A Poem

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My Pillow ~

A heavy heart leads to heavy eyes

often in a night with no end.

The pillow knows me

well this past year.

Tears accumulated in its

cotton fabric could

tell many a tale.

to any stranger who

would care to ask.

But my pillow knows

how to keep secrets

to my detriment it seems.

From loneliness,

To envy, from fears to

lies, unknown desires, on to

shame, and honor

lost.

I am but me,

with a ready smile

and an open heart.

and a soul

frustrated at its

wonderings.

Learning, seeking

self, as I do not

trust that seeking

in its self.

For I lie to me.

Wonderful me

I lie to me.

Where do you go wish to go?

And what road do you

want to take to get you there?

My eyes finally close.

and only my pillow

knows those

answers I pose

to myself.

By Philip Wardl0w 2015Ostrcichpillow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Monkey Girl

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A thousand times a thousand,
I could tell her she’s beautiful
but her hands are pressedlarge_girl-monkey
against her ears,
as she hums
a silly tune.
I could smile her way
with sweet attention
eyes falling all across her
body in every which direction.
She’s blind to me,
as her hands are held tight
against eyes already veiled.
Tell me you feel something
Anything…a single thought
a broken dream…a wish unfulfilled
a desire drowned.
But you just grimace me a smile
and casually place your hands
over those luscious lips
that have never truly been kissed.
Oh, my little Monkey Girl

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Her Body –

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reading

Her Body

I noticed her body after her beguiling faced walked in.

It spoke and sang to me with a swaying of heavy hip action.

If only I could dial back my desire then the stars would align,

but the god given geometry wrapping around that frame

would make a chaste man wonder why he went insane

as he saw curves creating arcs upon arcs

intertwining to manifest into shapes

only nature could conceive.

In the lovely female form

there’s a weakness

in me because as she

walks across the room

I continue to gaze while my

rapture increases knowing her body is

hidden beneath thin layers that only deepen

the mystery of a softness that is surely there.

What if I were to simply let my hands wonder

where they wish to go, to peek lightly with

fingertips in a caress down her naked back

with all intent to travel on if my bold

desires permitted such an act.

I know my place, but she

will learn my charms,

she will see my face,

and look deep into

my eyes and

wonder if

tonight I

am her

fate.

By Philip Wardlow

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Burn – A poem

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Burn~
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 2015 
Fire-680x452
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Sexing you up on Friday the 13th – A poem

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blackcat

Sexing you up on Friday the 13th~

 

 

Hey you,

in those vicious black heels,

What kind of luck do I need to get them

off you, or pressed into me?

I see you in the broken mirror

bent over with all your

loveliness revealed.

What mojo are you channeling today?

What’s in that juju bag you  are rattling

my way?

Black things, hidden things, shadowed

intentions of import,

all centered on the

sex enshrouded you.

It calls like a black cat down

the alley of discontent.

How lucky do I have to be?

Or unlucky, depending

on what lurks behind

those eyes.

I’m stepping on cracks, &  going under

ladders trying to get you

in bed.

I’m daring like that,

besides you have to believe

in all that mumbo jumbo

for it to have power

over you,

and I’ve never been one

to think a simple number

ever held sway over me

regarding you.

Superstitious or not.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015