A collection of various poems I have written in relation to horror, fantasy or the supernatural
The mind follows where the thoughts fly to, from plummeting to the darkest deep depths of despair , to soaring above a sun kissed peak of pleasing passions, or to perch on naked branch as a comforting wind caresses you, letting you know you are never alone in the world.
A sailing we will go!
A sailing we will go!
But on the currents we shall float
on a ship in a bottle in a big row boat.
The wind cannot touch our sails,
only our faces as we sit,
atop the glass
on a encased little wooden ship.
Our phonograph shall play at the stern
pushing us melodiously along
as we sit on the bow of the
bottle as the clouds pass low.
The little sailor man below, dressed so primly
but with his big straw hat to shade the sun,
shall keep a firm grip on the
tiller to steer our unknown path
to the unknown.
And I and my friend, shall munch
on little sandwiches come lunch
and just enjoy the day
as it passes by, spying our fancy friends
in their hot air balloons in the distance.
As we sit on our ship in a bottle in a big row boat.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Every day is a gift,
a fucking gift.
Why? Because I said so.
So unwrap that fucker.
Rip open the packaging,
fling the red red red ribbons to the four winds.
Bite that mother loving tape with your teeth if you must
Is that a Snaaarl I hear from you…?
It’s your present.
Do what you must.
Dive, dive, dive into that damn box!
See, see , see, what you’ve got?
Fuck.
Socks.
Slip’em on for a go….
Now go…just fucking go.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
AT THE MARATHON .
CHEWING BUBBLE GUM
MY FORTUNE SAYS I’LL BE ENVIED
BY EVERYONE.
AT THE MARATHON
CHEWING BUBBLEGUM
SITTING AT THE MARATHON
WAITING FOR A FRIEND TO COME
AT THE MARATHON.
WHO’D ENVY ME?
THE ONE WHO OWNS A BROKEN CAR.
AT THE MARATHON
WHO’D ENVY ME
THE ONE WITH A BROKEN HEART
AT THE MARATHON
THE NIGHT IS GETTING COLDER
AS THE CARS DRIVE BY.
AS I CHEW MY BUBBLEGUM.
WHO’D ENVY ME?
AT THE MARATHON.
By Philip Wardlow 1989
IT BEGINS WITH A BEGINNING
AND AN ENDING
CYCLE UPON CYCLE OF LENDING
IT HAPPENS WITH THE WIND OF FATE
PRODDING AND PUSHING,
EDGING TOWARDS A DATE
WILLS BECOME BENT.
AN ORGANISM LIFE IS SPENT.
ONE WILL BLOOM IN ITS’ PLACE.
BUT ASSUME ANOTHER
FACE.
TIME IS GOVERNED BY LIFE AND
IN TURN LIFE IS GOVERNED BY TIME.
EVER EDGING AND CRAWLING TOWARDS
THE SUBLIME
by Philip Wardlow
If my soul took a vacation,
escaped from my body
and left me sitting here
in my cold dark room
would I care to care
that it took a cruise?
Would my eyes look at
life differently?
Would my loves & passions
be muted?
Would my pains be gone?
Is it a sacrifice to lose one over
the other in spite of?
Again would I care when
my soul is gone?
I would think there would be
a longing for a forgotten
sweetness
that could not be defined
by my minds eye that’s now
blind.
If my soul left me.
Maybe.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
The Goblin King Sleeps~
In an oubliette deep
does a dank dungeon keep
the Goblin King.
Shattered, weary,
heartbroken,
at a loss to life he sought
and thought would crawl on forever
in a true vanity of his own design.
Yet, a silver lining
does shine on the pitted walls
which confine this man.
For he made a difference while out
in the world of light.
He ravaged, and wrought, bringing knees
to bend to touch the ground
and they fought, found courage,
bringing a change to the world each
in their way, good or bad
in the eyes of men
he brought a change,
and a reckoning was finally
consummated.
Now, he can finally sleep
this proud King.
And finally escape his
dungeon deep.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
The Five Tenets of the Sword~
Strength~
Once light as a dead bird’s body in my hands,
this weapon now weighs more than the collective souls
of a million men,
sweat glistens on muscled forearms strained
drained,
needles in legs drive deep,
yet I stand.
Conditioned for this in every cord, tendon, and bone
that runs through.
Skill~
Hours upon hours, Days upon days,
Years to master myself, then years to follow
to master this weapon.
The placement of the foot just so, hands balanced
sword poised at the perfect angle.
Advance, retreat, first position, second position
third, and on and on and on,
an endless dance until the music stops
with a myriad of outcomes at its end,
and I know every step in the
countless tangle of each encounter.
Instinct~
I am steadfast in my defense and attack
yet, I let the mind drift into that nether
region between thought and the what-if.
Never thinking I know my opponent
for he will do what I least expect and I
must expect the least expected in the blink
of an eye, for it could be my eye that is lost.
Ignore your sixth sense at the cost that
only fools pay when they are finally put to
rest in a shallow lonely grave.
Courage~
My line of sight travels down my sword
to an opponent that only wishes me a quick death
I see all my years to come, laid out bare for
him to snatch from me, like a breath from
a baby as he sleeps deep.
I am no newborn! Swaddled and waiting.
But born to this moment in time.
So come. Come!
And I will share you a secret
as I whisper your own death in your
ears.
Will~
The hardest of the tenets to maintain,
for they drive all the rest in me.
Fail this one and I fail them all.
Be steadfast you ask of your soul,
Be steadfast you implore of your heart.
Be steadfast you command of your mind.
Find a focus to compel the body forward.
Find a focus to awake each day.
Find a focus to believe in you
when no one else ever will.
Find that will
Simply find it
For there can be no other way.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Prince of Ravens~
Brown eyes
wolfish grin
With a sword well
used and dangerous
once unsheathed
and finally released.
Shall we dance?
In a ballroom or in
bed.
For both skills come
naturally
to the Prince.
Once he takes you in hand.
Dark, and darker
as the lights are dimmed
to hide what some
others call sins.
The ravens fly high
over castle keep
ever watchful
as their prince
delves deep.
Into the many mysteries
of the mind
found between her
legs and more.
What chaos
What wonder.
What beauty will he finally find
In himself
When the dance is done.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Fill up my time fish~
She said, “Fill up my time
while I wait for something
that I can finally keep
to drop on by.”
He said, “You’ll do,
you beautiful thing you,
now hurry , spread your legs as
my want of you is almost up.”
You are my novelty for the day,
the week, the month, the year,
as my desires
run their phases like the moon
runs its course across the skies
a hundred thousand million times.
You didn’t know it, but you did.
You hoped, but you still did.
Our original sin, over and over again.
That seems to be half the fun.
Are we all hobbies? Habits?
Frivolous fantasies and disastrous
desires run amok?
Dear affections that grab us like
a child holding tight to a goldfish
in a brand new bowl.
We all know what happens to that fish.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Health, Reflection, and Poetry for the Journey of Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Health, Reflection, and Poetry for the Journey of Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 