“There is an untapped beauty in her just waiting to flow. You just have to simply approach her at the right time with the right care, and tap…” by Me
Category Archives: Poetry Work
A collection of various poems I have written in relation to horror, fantasy or the supernatural
Bite Bite – Dare I say it would be a good rock song….:)
Grin, grin
Cheshire cat….grin, grin.
Flashing canines…lets begin….
CHOMP!
Take a bite…I know what you like.
Little Monster…creeping my skin
Tongue flicks…oh you know what I like
Bite Bite!
Little one….oh it’s only just begun
to get real…
Eyes looking at me with intent
to kill
Eyes looking at me with passion
yet to be fulfilled
I’ll take you there my friend
I’ll take you there, just
give me a bite.
And we’ll move on from there
Just a nibble…a nom nom
To get me to come
to you and show you
some fun
Bite Bite
Chomp!
My Little one.
Shark Shark!
I know I am bait
on the deep dark blue
I paddle and wait
I splash…intentionally
I cut my calf to bleed
a bloody trail
on the currents that carry me
Never a warning given
BAM
I fly
air is my only friend for the moment
as I descend
Splash….stunned.
I know it will return…
shortly..very shortly.
For it has plunged,
deep
to rise …rise… rise
right underneath.
To finish its meal.
I can’t see, I can’t see
below into this bloody
dim sea.
But it’s there rising fast.
It’s there.
Rising to meet
me.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Delicate Strength
A Delicate Strength~
If I called her delicate
She might well give me
a dark eyed glare
and haul off and try and hit me
Then I would laugh
and push her down
Arms restrained
She would fight
Oh yes, she would fight
Tendons taunt
against muscles she
couldn’t hope to overcome
But I feel her strength
a quiet marching strength
in her soul.
It pours off her in everything
she says and does.
But she has a delicate
nature
For her heart has been strained
Pained beyond belief at times.
Yet she hangs on
through that strength at
her core
I feel it as she struggles against me
As I smile my mischievous smile
and get her to smile along with me
in that struggle
And let her win…
by Philip Wardlow
Hole in the Sky – A Poem
Hole in the Sky ~
The winds whipped by
enscrolling her in a magical
caress
and continuing
onward.
Flirting with desires,
and compulsions to go aloft.
To soar on currents
unhindered,
free
from the
constraints
prescribed
by souls
that know her
not.
Trapped.
Planted.
As rooted as a tree
deeply confined
to the earth
She was meant for
the heights,.
the clouds,
strange lands
and forbidden tastes.
Never known.
There is a hole in the
blue of space as
as the sky misses
her,
for she was always meant
to fly.
By Philip Wardlow 2015
Snuggling
Head to chest
she lays upon him
his heart beats..loud and clear
in her ear.
Strong hands idly rub her soft skin
in an embrace
of familiar affection.
Skin to skin.,
warmth projects
from within to without
and commingles.
A comfort.
A contentment
that cannot be contrived
or bought.
It simply is in that moment
what it is,
a deep snuggle and
a small world
all her own
with him.
By Philip Wardlow
Kissing
Kissing~
Soft but insistent…
mirroring , playful yet sensual ,
wet, probing and tasting with tongue
just ever so lightly…
heated and wanting…
pheromones and testosterone exchanged in the mingling of saliva
exciting synapses
and releasing of endorphins…
ah yes…a Kiss
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Be Brave
“Be brave,” said Pooh to Piglet .
“But it’s not so easy to just be brave Pooh. There are so many scary things out there.”
“Oh, I know that friend, I know, so many things, but the world was meant to be a scary place for good reason,” Pooh said, smiling.
“Meant to be scary! That’s not very comforting Pooh, no not all,” Piglet whispered, frightened.
Pooh took Piglet’s hand, “Now, now don’t you worry, I am here and even when I’m not
here I am still here, ” said Pooh, touching Piglet’s chest over his heart.
“Oh!” Piglet exclaimed, surprised.
“I feel it to,” said Piglet
“Feel what?” Pooh asked, getting lost in thought as hungry Pooh bears sometimes do
“You there in my chest, it takes the place of that fear.” Piglet said.
“Well of course, why do you think I am so brave?” Pooh asked.
“Why Pooh, why?”
“Why? Because you are here, in here with me silly,” Pooh chuckled to himself.
“Oh,” Piglet said in wonder, smiling.
“My comfort from my fears will always be you, my bravery from the scary things in life
will be my friendship I found in you. That scary stuff brought us together and that’s
a good thing in the end.”
Pooh took Piglet’s hand and continued their walk down the dark forest path together.
By Philip Wardlow 2015
Warrior Woman – A Poem
Warrior Woman ~
Ah yes, she be a beauty…
never a finer woman did grace the land.
From the tip of the toes to the top of that pretty little head.
Ah yes, she be beautiful indeed.
But you would be mistaken my good sir at trying to take advantage of one such as her
whether in body, mind or soul, as she would send all three of yours straight to hell for the
devil to collect his due.
Flaming red be the color of her hair, burning much like her heart that beats in a warm bosom that knows no peace, nor solace in the silence between the madness that is always sure to come after.
Every turn of her blade is poetry…every dance a death sentence to her partner.
Care to be clever, to compel her to be contrite, or woo her with wicked words
and she shall simply cut your tongue out.
Yet, she hopes, endures for that day, when a compliment to her nature crosses her well worn path, fights through all her misgivings, deep protected fears, and wrestles her to the ground, flings her blade from her hand and drives the darkness away.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Stockings – Erotic Poem
Stockings.
They are to me what the Eiffel tower
is to France.
An elegant woman
a beauty,
a romance to find on every street corner,
an adventure to be discovered and sought.
Decadence pervades its corners and its twists and turns
as the night encapsulates deeds not seen
during the day.
All eyes look to the tower, shining.
As do mine to the sheer fabric
that rides over your toes, ankles, up calves
over knees, and thighs….ah to perhaps stop there
if we dare…
Yet some go further still,
Over buttocks and hips
to complete the curved picture all nicely framed.
Seams sometimes ride along her back plane
perhaps Cuban, Havana, Point, or the Manhattan
to name a few.
Whatever the style, all lines travel to that
same heavenly place where man presumes
to travel to get a better view.
I am partial to black, stopping just at mid-thigh
secured snugly with a nice laced garter.
But whether nude, or white, cream colored,
or villainous red.
A stocking, is a stocking, is a stocking my friend.
Try but once to not look upon the tower
as your eyes draw near.
Sooner cut out your eyes to cause the
brain to go against what nature intended.
Her form is a beacon to every breath that you breathe
Her form is a work of art artfully adorned.
Take a look, drink her in.
Smile inwardly, fall from her heights
and know with her and those
stockings you never stood a chance
of escape.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 