Category Archives: Poetry Work

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

Haikus of many flavors


Skipping ~pretty

My mind skips to you,

Hip kick, quippy smile girl

I try not to trip.

 

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My Hands ~sexy

I smile knowingly,

her breasts were made for my hands

As were other parts.

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Whispers ~Mirror

Hidden words whisper,

As her soul shouts to be heard

Mirror doesn’t tell.

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Little Kitten ~angrykitten3

Kittens fangs are short

Paws petite, but claws sharpened

Feral to the bone.

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Fire ~flame-symbol

Roaring fires burn

buried deep in the mind

my eyes shine with it.

 

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Red Wine ~sexy+wine

Keyed up in body

Red mixed with red finds the head

as my eyes find you.

 

 

 

By Philip Wardlow

 

The Devil is Dealt – A poem


TheDevil

The Devil is Dealt –

So, I say.

Let the Devil show his face

I know him well but it doesn’t

mean we are friends.

He doesn’t watch my house when

I am on vacation, or babysit

my kids.

Sure, we share a drink and a laugh

about that crazy neighbor down

the street.

But he’s not my buddy.

He can be a little needy at times

ya know.

Always in my face as I go to get

the mail and wanting to talk,

looking at me over the fence,

wanting to borrow my weed-wacker

and never returning it.

But I tolerate him,

I guess I feel sorry for him.

He has no family to speak of, I see no friends

come to visit.

He just sits on the porch and mumbles

to himself late at night

smoking that damn cigar.

I guess I see a little myself in him

but it’s time to cut him

off.

Else he’ll just keep coming

around more often.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Fireball!


Life is about  dodging and jumping…..jabbing and grabbing….lip smacking that delicious girl that twinkles an eye your way…

So don’t stay complacent…get in the game…let it be fun….that run…that breath you take….that adrenaline which courses….that

chance you throw to the wind….as you try to fly like other men.

Luigi

 

 

 

 

Just me – A poem


 

cropped-snowboy-crow-still.jpg

Just Me-

 

I dibble and I dabble

leap like a Lemur and laze around like a Lion…

I run like a fox and find my friends in the dark forest .

The shadows wrap around me and I call them home…

my passions run deep down many avenues you wouldn’t care to drive I’m sure..

I will smile as you smile…laugh as you laugh…

life is meant to be spent…

not jingled and jangled in the pocket all day long.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Being Human – A Poem


Being Human-

 

I am confused but not confused

I have clarity

In all things

But I am muddled

In all things big

That really

Matter

And what matters?

Really?

You say THAT matters

He says THIS matters.

She says I matter.

We say WE matter.

When no one does

And everyone should.

Ping…..PONG!

Bounce…Bounce….Bounce

Mr. Ball.

And get struck hard with the paddle

Back to the other side

WHAT?

YOU cannot hide

Because that paddles a coming

SMACK!

So….Just…Well…Um…Okay.

That about sums

us up.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2014LettingGoFreeFall

October – A poem


October – October

The winds which whip

have a different flavor.

A taste, sweet

and fervent as a

caramel apple when

first bitten into.

The night shrouds more

treasures, unspoken

in shadows but implied

deep in your soul familiar

with such darkness.

Colors abound and break and burst,

escaping their confines of

staleness and tepid tones.

Never has this world been more alive,

more robust,

more rambling,

and shambling to and fro.

Unbounded and limitless

in scope and measure.

This time is the great mystery

come to call.

To hold magic in your hands

if only for the briefest instant

Until it finally

fades

away.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

My Third Eye – A Poem


Patipat Asavasena

 

 

My Third Eye –

 

It’s been plucked.

Right out of my head.

There it is, pinched between

that raven’s beak.

It has been reclaimed it seems

since I never chose to use it.

An eye always closed.

grows dark and distant.

Best to give it to someone else.

Yet, I feel the pain of its

loss already

My mind, my spirit, my heart

has already dimmed.

I want it back.

I have learned my lesson.

I promise.

I will use it,  give it back…

give it back,

please give it back.

I will use it

just give it back.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

 

darksiders_raven_by_eldeivi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eeyore’s quiet Sad Rage – A poem


 

This poem is for all those who have ever felt left out, unloved, neglected, uncared for or ever underappreciated…we all have been Eeyore  at least once in our lives I am imagining –

 

 

Eeyore_1

 

Eeyore’s quiet Sad Rage –

 

Pooh has Piglet, tight friends to the

end.

Roo has his mum and oft’ times Tigger’s

bouncing annoying presence.

Rabbit has his attitude of

self-importance.

and Owl, his arrogant wisdom

as he sits in his tree.

Christopher Robin visits, but rather

infrequently.

The Hundred acre woods are a lonely place for  a donkey.

Thistle only comforts so much.

The wind whistling through the trees

is a pale companion.

I have much poetry to recite,

much I wish to say, hugs I wish to share

and smiles to give.

Perhaps my worth shall be found

one day by eyes

that see more than past the noses

on their own heads.

Until then I will meander and mope

because that is what is expected

of me.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Gloomy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taken – an Erotic Poem


Taken –
In silent repose in bedtaken
she read.
Night enshrouded her.
Eyes heavy from the day
as sleep was soon to come.
*
*
A creaking of the stairs
revealed of his approach
A small kiss goodnight
then to leave again as always…alas
*
*
Book put aside as he entered,
his handsome rugged smile
found hers as he approached
bedside.
*
*
A light kiss on full lips
along with his lingering cologne
clinging to his pores
caused her to sigh inside.
*
*
Light kiss turned to an insistence
pressure as a rough hand found
her breast…squeezing hard in intention.
*
*
Blankets flung back,
quick hands grabbed at panties
pulling them down thighs, to calves
to feet, then off in a flick.
*
*
Dark brown eyes dilated to drink her
in like a heady red wine.
*
*
Strong hands grabbed at knees forcing
legs open wide,
asking for no permission.
Head dove between thighs
sweetly kissing her other lips.
*
*
She bucked and thrashed as
his attentions below
had taken her well in hand.
The dance with tongue so delicate and
precise.
*
*
He grabbed both her arms by the wrist,
holding them tight at her sides to calm
the body that could not resist
the rising within.
*
*
She rode on wave after wave,
with each successive one ever higher.
*
*
His ardor had risen complete as his
hardness moved up her thighs
pressing, wanting a deep kiss of its
own.
*
*
His eyes found hers as he
entered, sliding into her tight wetness
They moaned in unison at the shared
pleasure as he filled her with him.
*
*
Time evaporated for the next
minutes or hours as he owned her.
Completely.
He was denied nothing as he took
her savagely, pushing and pulling
himself into her.
Biting a shoulder, or her neck, enveloping
a breast with his mouth.
No part of her body was left untouched.
In this instant he lived within her body
This was his domicile to come and go as
he wished.
*
And she welcomed it all…
by Philip Wardlow 2014

The Santo Mon – A Political Poem


The Santo Mon-  

 

Monsanto.
Yeah Mon…You know the one.
Mon
san
to.

Remember it.
Founded in 1901 by
a rich family full of ambition.

Your grandmother’s mother washed
her linens with one of their first brands
and hung them to dry in the warm
afternoon sun.
ALL, the detergent of the ages.

Other products flew off the shelf.
Who do you think made Coca Cola taste so
sweet?
Saccharin, supplied by the Santo Mon.
Here, have a drink.

It set them up real good for what was to come.

If your head was aching, grab some Aspirin.
Pop a little salicylic acid to turn that frown
upside down.

Why stop there Mon, because chemicals were theirAgentOrangeDumping
specialty ya know;
DDT, PCBs, Agent Orange by the barrel load.

Ya see, the US government had this little war in Vietnam,
They had this idea that they could keep down the Vietcong
simply by killing off all the foliage mon.

All it did was deprive the good citizens of growing food,
causing them to flee to the city
where they crammed into
the slums by the millions.

The Santo Mon knew the dangers of what he sold, it was all in the notes as the studies showed; what it did to animals surely it could do to us,
cuz we be but animals as well bro.

Those wonderful products broke the bodies of the natives living there
and the vets who came back.

Woe be war, but woe be more the chains you still wear, for it never be over for some.

Misshapen babes born to proud
Papas and Mamas who are already themselves half in the grave.

Kiss your wife dear solider and hug her tight, for something burns inside you and it ain’t
never coming out.

It’s gonna strike
When?
Who knows.
Today,
Tomorrow.

But you will be the fool
to feel Santo cares about your
welfare.

Don’t hold your breath if you don\’t want to turn blue.
Men in suits;
lawsuits been settled they say,
reparations be done.

Some say it would have been better
to have pissed into the wind to get what
the victims won.

Go about your way,
we be the New Monsanto
all improved.

Our business is growth and nature.
We want to show you the way.
The New Santo Mon only engineers seeds nowadays.

Oh, you haven’t heard that story either?
Well sit down my friend I’ve got a lot
more unpleasant things to say

 

by Philip Wardlow

monsanto-kills-art