Category Archives: Poetry Work

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

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Hiddin Within

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Shadows-and-Fog

 

Hidden Within~

He watches her. She watches him.

The dog , he watches nothing.

Their eyes can’t hide what lies beneath.

A tilt of the head, a downcast look tells

me all I need to know about their inner

Lives.

They hate. They love.  They lust. They  laugh at

Life.

Is there sadness behind that smile they

Give.

Some hide from each other.

Some hide from themselves.

Some hide simply because they can.

I wish I could see all the dreams buried

deep within their heads.

Dreams which they’ve never fed;

maybe a doctor, a lawyer, or a whore,

maybe a pretentious pious little bore.

Their thoughts are hidden;

a landscape of dark shadows and fog banks hung

Low.

I watch it all unfold.

They can’t keep it hidden long,

for like a cauldron bubbles, spews, and spits so

does their mind emit a gurgling of regret, a wisp of

weakness, or a hiss of  hysteria in its’ attempt to lament.

I watch and I wait for it all to unfold,

for the hidden to be found and the found to be told.

I’m a spectator to the grand affair which is hidden within.

So know that when I look at you or you at me,

I will see you, see you indeed.

By   Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Desolate Dame

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grabbingbreast

Desolate Dame~

 

 

You give him a grin

and forget it all when he

grabs a breast.

He smiles that same stellar smile

that trapped you so long

ago.

You sweat it all out through sexual labors

and forget…

all the moments meandering

constant in the frontal lobe of your brain that aches

to cut him loose and send him downstream

to go cascading off a cliff.

Yet you play the martyr to his Mussolini,

tied up and tortured in the town square,

while all the passerby’s look the other way.

Weakness.

Doesn’t become you.

Defiance should rule.

But yet you grin all over again

when he grabs your breast.

 

 

Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The Marvel of a Marble

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marblerolling

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Marvel of a Marble~

 

 

Your  body, so lithe and light;

it floats effortlessly,

like a  ghost lightly traversing an open  space.

Pirouetting, arms flung, delicate hands in pose

All for show; for  your spirit is not sovereign.

It wears a weighted vest, zipped tight.

Gravity bears down, in its

responsibility to do its part

in the relativity of all things

of keeping that piece of you

controlled….limited….reduced

and compliant.

Structure, and rules

and useless fears need not apply,  yet they

do with you.

A marble rolling along a curve

may call its path predetermined

unless it chooses to jump the ledge

it glides upon.

So jump, oh glorious marble

Jump!

And find that distinctive dance

where vests are flung, and feet move of a volition

not prescribed by a choreography

found strange to your mind’s eye.

Jump!  oh glorious marble,  Jump!

And find where you might

finally land.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

A Storm of Crows

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 stormofcrows

 A Storm of Crows ~    

 

Death has visited you, a hair’s breath of a fingertip;

yet a caress not placed.

She stared longingly and then flitted away.

You felt her. Didn’t you?

Now, where ignorance was once rooted,

fear remains fixed.

Where a true smile did reside,

now only a tumultuous dark blue sea.

For you see, you think that is all for you to see.

Push, push, push it down.

But it bubbles up and it makes you wonder why.

Will there be pain? A forever Darkness ?

A release? The End of ends? Where will I go?

Anywhere? Nowhere?

Shall I just dissolve into nothing?

Death came, it did indeed.

In a storm of crows she rode on the winds of fate.

Neither bleak nor sweet.

That has always been her way.

No malice or malcontent.

For her duty is simply to carry you away.

Not to think of things of nonsense.

In a life yet here and now.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

In your pants

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pants

Romance exists,

just as much as bullshit exists,

 to get into those tight pants you’re  wearing,

but I want to stay and help with the laundry

and fold those pants with you later.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Shackles

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Do you feel them?

The shackles.

They chafe and bruise.

Pull against, and they pull back.

Invisible.

Tangible yet they be.

For they have a weight,

a bite…

a substance,

of the foulest metal known to man.

Strong….

welded upon your wrists

For there is no key.

Yet you walked into

them willingly

Inserted hands,

clasps closed.

Acetylene torch bright

heat burning

Skin blistering.

Hands plunged

into cold water

to quench and

strengthen the binding.

Shackles fade from sight

scars heal,

All to the naked eye.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Blue light special

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It’s okay to try and sell yourself

buts its ridiculous to put a spinning blue light on your head

while sitting in the middle of the bar…

by Philip Wardlow 2016

policeblue

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Matterfactly

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DarkMatter

The universe is composed of matter everywhere,

visible and invisible interacting on levels we don’t comprehend just yet

…so you do matter.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Shake it

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I wanted fries with that shake baby,

(she pulls out an order of medium fries from her cleavage)

(I take them)

Thanks, you may continue shaking.

(nom nom nom)

Any ketchup in there?

by Philip Wardlow 2016

FriesKetchup

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Bubble People

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Bubble

They bump along in their bubbles…

with all their different colors

at times comingling…a bright red meeting,

a dull blue or electric  yellow sliding along a prim’s

purple slick skinned surface

grazing against, just ever so.

Electric,  crazy, frenzied, varied, morphic, erotic

Dare I say fun? Yet…the bubbles eventually move on

Some in sadness…some not giving a shit….beep bopping

away in a rush.

Or they simply just

POP!

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016