Category Archives: Poetry Work

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

Haikus – The many moods of me – by Philip Wardlow


Black wings paint the sky amongst them I fly freely No ground to hold me.
Black wings paint the sky
amongst them I fly freely
No ground to hold me.
Windows divide me from worlds I have brushed against clear and newly cleaned.
Windows divide me
from worlds I have brushed against
clear and newly cleaned.
Fuck off you fucker My middle finger gives cue to whisper screw you
Fuck off you fucker
My middle finger gives cue
to whisper screw you
Flaming red dress twirls as my world revolves around my eyes on your hips
Flaming red dress twirls
as my world revolves around
my eyes on your hips
I hand you a rose, because your beauty demands it of my lost soul.
I hand you a rose,
because your beauty demands
it of my lost soul.
Erotic mischief, from a smile, kiss, to caress A peek at my heart.
Erotic mischief,
from a smile, kiss, to caress
A peek at my heart.
Meditative space Peace in a vacuum of words Abandons the day
Meditative space
Peace in a vacuum of words
Abandons the day
Fists of fury coming A terrible tidal wave of pure savagery
Fists of fury coming
A terrible tidal wave
of pure savagery
Beauty and sorrow Intertwined, a mosaic of feelings unbound.
Beauty and sorrow
Intertwined, a mosaic
of feelings unbound.
Mister Monster gripes dismal days stretch forever as the coffee cools.
Mister Monster gripes
dismal days stretch forever
as the coffee cools.
My soul exploded dipped in the frigid waters of a  warm welcome.
My soul exploded
dipped in the frigid waters
of a warm welcome.

Bad Boy Finished – A Poem by Philip Wardlow


Bad Boy FinishedBB

What is it with the female

persuasion that

clings to the

notion that

danger

is a delicious dish?

You smile, you laugh

as you believe the stories,

the promises, and the kismet

collected in your

nightstand drawer

that you sift through every once

in awhile to tell yourself

that surely it existed,

because a fool is

something you’ve

never been.

Was your pride

greater than his,

to think you

met up to

his

invisible measuring

stick he never

cared to share?

Tell me.

What’s so great about this

bad boy you came to love?

What’s so great about this

fool who dared to hurt someone

such as you.

Tell me he was true.

Tell me he was everything

and I’ll shut the fuck up.

 by Philip Wardlow 2013

Peek – A wee little Poem by Philip Wardlow


peek

Did you get a good peek?  She asked.

I got more than a peek, I say

Because I have quick eyes…

and I’m always looking your way

when you walk by.

by Philip Wardlow

I like Big Books and I cannot Lie – A poem


I like big books and I can not lie
You other scholars can’t deny
That when a librarian walks in with an itty bitty waist
and slaps a big paged volume down in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your specs
‘Cause you notice that book looks stuffed
Deep  in the pages the words be blaring.
I’m hooked and I can’t stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get with you
in my lap to read the big picture
My schoolboys tried to warn me
But that big book makes me so ornery
When I rub its Rump-o’-smooth-skin
spine and I’m not allowed to read it.
Well, use me, use me
‘Cause you ain’t that average mystery
On the shelves, I’ve seen those other books dancin’
To hell with romances
I ‘m tired of magazines
Conveying to me flat books are the thing,
Take the average smart man and ask him that
The book gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got your big book? (Hell yeah!)
Tell ’em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy book!
And baby, baby, give me my big  book back!

by Philip Wardlow girlreading2

Witch Hunt- 30 Day Halloween Poem Challenge Poem #22


WitchsBroomsticks

  .

Sister,  sister, you’re dead now. 
known as only ashes buried deep in a cold shallow
grave at the top of a lonely hill…
I saw you burn hotter than the sun, tied to a stake
worse than a dog was ever done.
Sister,  your shrieks still fill my ears from
that day, as they continued to pile on the wood to your funeral pyre.
I saw them laugh as the flames rose ever higher and higher.
I could only salt the earth with my tears for I was far too young.
Far too young  to save  a lighted soul such as yours being wronged.
My own darkened that day,
blacker than a shipbuilder’s pitch.
A witch you never were, but now
a witch I have become,
and tonight I hunt.
Hunt for the many ones,
and oh they will surely see a witch
tonight of the like they
have never seen.
By Philip Wardlow 2016

Triad of Horror Haikus – for the 30 day Poem Challenge We’ll call them Poem#11, and 12 :)


ShadowPeople
The Dark needs my Soul
For it is feeding time now,
it’s always hungry.
ScaryDoll
I think it sees you,
I am sorry that is so
He kills very slow.
swing
Think driven by the wind?
A lonely swing in the dark.
When alive, her friend.

Assumptions of you….things you might not know.


YoungME17
Me at seventeen holding Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

Forgive me,

for I did not know you as I had surmised;

silent, thoughtful,

and smiling in the corner

were merely a rippling

long flowed

downstream.

by Philip Wardlow

When I read any book by an author I like to read the Author’s note and  any forward they may have written. I personally like to get a sense of who this person is that wrote this book. What made them tick…so below are some of the things that might give you perspective into who I am and who I am not perhaps. I don’t know, I will let you be the judge. I for one hate self analysis because we lie to ourselves more than we lie to others. Perhaps you’ll see something in me that I don’t see myself…

**************************************************************************

My mother had me when she was 29….my father was 59 at the time…He died when I was 12…He was 72,  the age a grandfather should be.

Often my mother would leave our father at the drop of a hat..taking me & my brothers away…we lived in 18 different homes growing up.

Security seemed to be a liquid state to me as a young child…no solid friends..no real home to speak of…life always in transition.

My mother signed my older and younger brother  up in the Big Brother Volunteer program at the local college…me I did not get one. She believed I was the adjusted one and didn’t need it I guess.

My older brother William participated in sports and played a musical instrument at school.  I think I wanted to but was never asked by my mother, besides money was tight and he got first dibs.

I don’t really like my family.

I love them but I don’t LIKE any of them…in certain ways I am sure they don’t like me. I am not perfect. I have quirks and issues I am sure,  that annoy the hell out of them….your typical dysfunctional family.

I WANT to like them. But as I have gotten my life together in some semblance of normalcy they have still not to one degree or another.  So I AVOID them if I can because its a DRAG.

Am I selfish?  Should I feel guilty? At times I do.  At others, NOT in the slightest…Blood is NOT thicker than water at times.   AT TIMES you need to live for your self and be selfish….I had to learn that was okay.

*****************************************************************************************************************

I am forty-three…

I hate my age…

And not for the reason you think. I hate it because I really  started going after what I really wanted in my late -30s…which is as you can see is Writing…

I try not dwell on the almost 20yrs of wasted time  of not pursuing it….”OH the things I could have written in that time” flow through my head at the oddest and most inconvenient moments.

But I shut that  annoying voice out and carry on.

Also at forty-three I wish to stay in shape ..so I work out on a constant basis. I have a  sucky metabolism so I must.

I work out to look & feel good for myself,  my wife and any lady passerby on the street who wants to check me out…:)

I didn’t always think I was a handsome person. I kind of had an ugly duckling syndrome. I grew up with a gap in my teeth and because we couldn’t afford  to pay for an orthodontist, so the gap stayed . We also were a poor family that didn’t have the ” cool” clothes or stuff so I was pretty much ignored by other kids at a certain age.

I still have the gap but wear better clothes.  My wife and others have convinced me that I don’t look hideous. I will take their word for it.

Seriously though my confidence has grown over the years with that. (still have trouble with big smiles in pictures..so I look mean or stoic or something half the time in them)

I always like a compliment….who doesn’t.  So go ahead tell me I’m cute I can take it…:)

I think I will wrap it up here for now….perhaps I will share more of myself in later posts….now you know just a little more about me. I am going to go relax and read a good book now.

Picture 024

The Strength of Her – A poem


Strength

The Strength of Her – A poem

She is solid.

A brick wall could not withstand the onslaught she takes

upon herself in a day.

Crumblings of broken mortar would be the only memory of it.

Limits in place may  try and take hold

of a body pushed to the extreme,

but her mind says. “Nuh, uh. I ain’t having none of that”

Tired, but tireless.

Her core is molten lava

never cooling,

always moving,

burning through

shit as it travels.

Stay the fuck out of her way.

Back up.

Let her work.

Just smile, and admire, and admit

silently to yourself

how you wish you were her.

By Philip Wardlow

You Cheeky Raven, Nevermore! A Poem


PLUM2G

Oh Raven,  you may tap,tap,tap,

incessant in your endeavors to ever trap

me in your tangled lies ten feet deep.

I be not such a fool to fall sway to your unearthly rules

of tortuous maladies you delight in inflicting on ever passerby

you do seek to see that lies in your line of darkest sight.

Your taunts as you perch and preen on pedestal high

do naught a thing to one such as I.

Your guile lies transparent as a ghost.

A thrown token. shiny and bright to fall at my feet.

Yet, as I do bend down to pick it up,

you no sooner pilfer my pockets of my weeks hard earned

fortune as you seek to simply

call it black luck where I would be none the wise.

Nevermore you say!

Bah, I say . Be gone this night before the morn

brings the dawn and turns your cheeky words

to flotsam to be carried away on the shore’s

of my discontent.

You may know the depth of many souls

as you may know mine,

but there is no barter to be had, no wager to be paid.

MY soul is my own.

No matter how dark and cold.

By Philip Wardlow

Different Tastes – an Erotic Poem(Mature Content! You have been warned)


Different Tastespoprocks_and_coke

I dip my dick

into a wine flute

filled with Pinot Grigio

Now,

Taste.

What does your tongue tell you?

Are you a connoisseur?

Tell me the year.

I will pour you anything you prefer.

Now.

Spread your legs and let my

fingers linger until a raging

wetness ensues.

Now,

You must choose.

Grape or strawberry?

Pop Rocks go in and

mingle inside your moistness

Crackle…Crackle…Pop!

Mmmmmm…

Strawberry…good choice.

Now,

Remove the ice cold Coca Cola

from the fridge,

Pop the cap, pour it out and

plunge it in your pussy deep.

Your body shudders as you

exhale slowly.

Now,

Bottle removed

I enter with all the warmth of the sun.

Your body shudders again

as you exhale.

Now,

Time for the grape.

By Philip Wardlow 2013