Category Archives: Poetry Work

A collection of various poems I have written in relation to horror, fantasy or the supernatural

Savage Meeting



You drive me to want to look you in the eye with a primal challenge when  meeting you for the first time across the dark forest floor in the dead of night.

Your body bathed in the meager light of a crescent moon, wrapping around your delicate frame, yet I sense there is nothing delicate about you.

The cold doesn’t quite touch you fully. The night entreats your presence…you belong here…you have always belonged here.

The night is a comfort to me as well, my senses  focused. You shine  in the meager light. I see a nobility in you, a raw wildness , pure in its essence distilled before me , running like a river as you stand there.

Laying down on our backs naked on the ground,  shoulder to shoulder,  all senses attuned, to the night, to ourselves,
to each other…

Nothing needs to be said as we are wrapped in the comfort of it all.

I smell you , almost most tasting you with the tip of my tongue, from deep in your core, it calls.

I don’t ask as I force your legs open and take what’s mine now and forever as you look at the stars above as a cool wind hardens your nipples to points in the night air.

I will never surrender your body pleasures until you shudder and explode within my grasp, until you are sated fully and surrender them to me..

I want more of you this night …bite me, claw me, lose yourself in the nature of me, my wildness for you is pure and freely given.

You have me in full as my nature demands it , I please you while you do the same…leaving you spent and sore,  scratched by the forest floor with its branches and rocks cutting us as we take each other in good measure.

In the end, we look to be half feral, at the end I shall give you your first kiss as I will truly know you then in truth.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

The Me you See


 

The me you see, is just a pale umbra of whom I’m supposed to be.

I’ve come to  a wall and I can’t make the jump,

I try and I try and just bounce the hell off.

But what I really don’t know is that I’m just a toad in the road

and it’s just a small curb on a street.

It’s a cliff so sheer and high that it’s a trick to belie the eye.

I tell myself one more jump…kerplunk!

My little toad head hurts like hell from all the bashing

against the wall.

If I can just find that perfect crack to start me on my crawl to wind my way up.

But that would require luck…fuck!

Where the hell am I going to get any of that?

So I’m a toad.

Not a frog a princess can kiss

to relieve me of this predicament.

Sorry, no frog underneath this frog-like veneer miss.

But I will be the prince of toads one day.

Fuck the frog I say!

So I look for that crack in the wall,

no matter how small,

to eventually make my way

up and over.

To that other me

that I don’t yet see,

The Prince of Toads,

in all of his bumpy

brown glory.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Seeing You


If I were a blind man
and had only a touch
to trace a picture of you
I would kiss you first
as I made a joke
My lips against yours
along with a feather stroke
of my hand against
a fully rounded cheek
I would be in that smile
as I breathed your
essence in.
A flock of goosebumps
springing up upon your skin.
as a fingertip slowly just ever so
traveled down a
shoulder and arm to
trembling hands
in anticipation of
wants to come.
Your body leaning in
your curves filling into
the niche of me.
A puzzle complete.
Heat transfers
Coalescing
Two minds mingling
You are a picture
complete.
with other eyes
that have always
seen you.

by  Philip Wardlow 2017

Vintage Dreams


 

Time,

a funny grain

that gets stuck

like a piece of

grit between

clenched teeth.

And spitting never helps, so purse

your lips

tightly.

Dreams,

A fickle fable

held in high esteem

as you tell the story

of a wonderful what-if

while the stars loftly

laugh at you in the dark ink blot above.

Grip the grass you lay upon

as the earth tilts just ever so.

Love,

Oh love,

Where for art thou?

Romeo was a fool to seek

a party where all the players

knew their part  while all the

while Juliet had cotton stuffed

in her ears like a silly Teddy bear,

seeing  only your pretty little

mouth move without a

sound.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

The Rabbit Hole


 

A flop-eared fuck of a rabbit ran on by,

tripping over me in his haste.

Never caring a wit in his bumping.

As if the air I occupied was insubstantial

and not worthy of one  of such good taste.

I hadn’t noticed the rabbit hole

 But he just dove

on in.

Fuck that rabbit. I didn’t know

who he was.

Or why he wore a tweed vest

yet his little bunny ass was left to stick

out below.

I just saw a dark hole in the earth.

with nothing but a deeper darkness

within.

Fear clutched my throat

Words choked as I tried to yell

“What the hell?”,  at him.

Gurgling.

Leaving me burgling for time

trying to figure out my

life.

All the whys and wherefore’s

and whozits.

While the background receded,

the foreground contracted.

Leaving me in the tight middleground

of discontent, what-if, and

disillusionment.

I hugged myself tight, but it wasn’t cold,

that was just my soul

falling to pieces

as I tried to hold my self together

while I flaked away.

Go Rabbit, go!

You have the right of it.

You know what time it is; always.

You know.

So  go down that Rabbit hole

because you’re a fucking rabbit

and you know what to expect.

I wish I could go

but

I just fucking won’t fit.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sally forth I say!


 

 

It’s a glorious morn for battle on the field of gold.

So be bold!

Attack the day lest you fall prey

to marauders at your gate.

Go forth and grind them to grizzle

pick your to teeth with their bones

while finding rapture in hearing their moans

Push! Push! Push !

through the tall grass.

Head low!  Be wary but

Go! Go! Go!

For its been said, that fortunes

go to the ones who are bold.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Why I,  am the boldest of the bold can’t you

see!

So where be my fortunes, where be my wench

to console my pains, and give me succor

this day?

Where indeed.

Think not too hard on your gains not gotten

lest you fall ill to them before you

meet them my friend.

Be not so arrogant! Be not so aggrieved!

For any  man’s head can leave a

neck with but a peck of a well honed axe

unseen.

No man’s future is certain nor ordained

by the vicious gods who play

their crap game

in the dark corners of your fated life.

Wise words, so heed them

or only peril shall follow

all your days.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twirling


 

The music in her was at first hard

to hear.

Until I stepped back and

just let her mind and body flee

from me,

Flying.

Her legs then found the floor

as her hips found the rhythm,

gyrating and winding,

the music flowed  towards her before my eyes

injecting  her,

setting up a syncopated resonance

within,

taking me away of what I thought

she was,

to the actual of her,

A wild whirling dervish,

a creature unbound in thought and nature,

Twirling.

A soul singing.

Fighting for a freedom

to just be.

 

 

Philip Wardlow 2017

 

The Dead Half of Her


 


 

 

I don’t need to connect with you on any level

that means anything.

Why should I?

Let’s keep it frivolous

Let’s keep it small.

But I’ll put on a smile for you

once in a while

to give

you give you  a reason

to hang on.

To show you that you entertain me

just a bit.

But we both know that there is a dead half

to me, she said

And it  will never come alive for you.

Sure were friends, she said.

Sure.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Do you ever (or Thoughts by Eeyore)


Do you ever

feel

just in the way,

like a curtain covering up

the sunny day.

Do you ever feel like this

place on earth was tolerating

the space you filled,

just waiting for you to finally go away.

Do you ever feel like time marches

at a molasses pace with

a half-eaten carrot dangling just

out of reach.

Do you ever feel like sounds

come into frame

but no picture forms

in the mind

because your synapses 

are sick of all the bullshit that

came before so it doesn’t

care to entertain reality anymore.

Do you ever?

Because I sometimes do.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

Like a Crazy Ass Bullet


 

I was shot into this world like a crazy

ass bullet

Pinging and zinging off the solid metal

bulwarks

of life

Piercing and punching through

the flesh of the ones in solitude

who never knew me as I sped on,

cutting them in two, blood spilling,

entrails trailing on gleaming metal

warped by sinew and bone

for even a bullet can’t go unscathed

as it passes through you, you, and you.

Gravity is taking me, braking me

pulling me down….

The curve of the Earth is finally coming to meet

me on this hallowed muddy blue ball of a  ground

where I’ll be littered in with all the rest

that never found the target of their

intent.

Piles and piles of metal collect

in a mountain too high to climb. 

Shit, I wasn’t hoping for the bullseye

Just a piece, the very edge…

to clip it,

to show em all I could

fly fairly straight

even if fired from a gun

called Fate

by an unsteady hand.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017