The Seven Hearts of Her


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A Broken Heart
Love let her down and pushed her aside,
it didn’t keep her company, it didn’t give her a hug
and it never chose to know her

A Passionate heart
She’ll fall into your arms
Into a full on embrace
Warming to a kiss<
To be wanted to be taken
Over and over

A Dear Heart
She keeps a love close
as a treasure finally found after
a millennia of seeking
Precious, Priceless and Dear
as she thinks the same of her own.

A Fearful heart
Eyes wide and brimming
hands clutching, gripping
holding tight
Voice imploring for her love to
never disappear

Empathetic Heart
She pulls the sadness and plights of others within her
exploding with a comforting
balm of wise words and consoling

A Humorous Heart
Raucous and irreverent
with an infectious fun
soul along with a smiling
laugh that others always
long to see and hear

A Delicate Heart
Strong yet brittle
A fighter yet fear filled
Hard willed yet may fall apart
in your arms in a moment

All her hearts want
is to love
and be loved, and not
to be precariously left
upon a shelf
and forgotten.

By Philip Wardlow April, 2020

Everybody is a Fucking Expert


People become afflicted
become sickened
A Mother dies, a Daddy dies
a Brother, a Sister,
a Nephew, an Aunt,
that crazy fun Uncle,
well he’s no longer around.
Yet some know better,
some are fucking experts on everything now:
Epidemiology, Politics
and the Constitution, here
come take your diploma
young ignorant man.
They have just crawled from
the primordial ooze,
but without an ounce of knowledge or true
reflection,
they know the why, the what, and the wherefore
of it all.
Without doubt or reservation,
they string together tens of hundreds
of stories into
a conspiracy of disdain and ridiculousness.
Anxiety now rules an already twisted logic system,
mutating them all into something
new and improved,
The truest most deadly virus of a
a thing called the Fool.

by Philip Wardlow April, 2020

The not so long ago


Not so long ago
you once never were.

Your pretty face was
not an image in my head.
You were non-existent;
invisible in my reality.

Then right in front
of me, you shone
like a day
that never knew light.
You popped in gloriously
and I could not look away.

How many turnings of the Earth,
how many cycles of the Moon
have gone by since that fateful date
of our conjunction?

You were magic found that night,
a treasure uncovered, a beacon
in a blanket of fog as
I held you tight,
dancing,
the music playing,
me dissolving into you.

Now you are ever present,
you sit in my mind
Never moving an inch
for I hold you fast in me.
For the lover you are now.
For the friend you will always be.

I like to think on the not so long ago,
when the Universe
brought your brightness
to me, and that I never want
it to leave.

by Philip Wardlow March , 2020

Certain Songs


There are certain songs that you must
listen to the words,
really listen,
while others songs
you can simply tap
a foot to and let your
soul get lost in the rhythm of.
People are like that also;
you either get lost in them
or sit and listen,
really listen, and both ways
are equally important.

by Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020

 

Order is in the Bar


A cold fire burns within and without in the world I dwell in, and they all dance on a pin while I sit wondering why they dance at all, and what tune is playing as they dance, and do they even hear the music that they dance to because it’s god awful.

I press my ear to the wall in my hotel room and I hear their gibbering, muffled words coupled with occasional laughter. The snatches of conversation never seem to come into focus, never revealing anything but more mysteries of a world that I could never truly see. It’s one of lofty laughter and sick sorrows, and fears reflected off a dirty black mirror sucking in all the known. In that room, desires are unfurled, as regrets are thrown to the floor, forgotten, with lessons never picked up and put in their proper place upon the shelf.

Chaos reigns in that room as Order has a left a long time ago and gone for a drink in the hotel bar down below.

I pound against the wall, over and over.

“Hear me!” I yell at the peeling paint.

“See me!” I yell through the thick crumbling plaster.

“Let me into your party!” For I need talk sense to you savages, or at the very least strangle you all completely so I can finally go peacefully to sleep.

The music abruptly stops. The mumbling, murmurs, and gaiety subside.

Have they heard me? All is quiet.

Then there is laughter all around, and a banging back upon my wall as if by a hundred, a thousand, no a million hands, and one clear word shining through it all of being called a “FOOL” right before the music resumes, louder and more raucous than before.

My fists clinch, eyes becoming intense as dark deeds flood every particle of me. Destruction reigns, blood rising as my blue view begins to fade to a pale red creeping to a dark hue.

Then comes a knock at my hotel room door.

I walk over, looking through the peephole and it’s Order, eye to eye with me.

I fling open the door ready to give him peace of my mind.

“I thought you might need a friend,” Order says,  grinning with whiskey in hand as he walks in, bringing all his new found followers, never ending, flowing in, filling my room complete.

Order’s smile is infectious and I smile back as the cold fire within burning  begins to warm.

I laugh loud and hard, bringing out glasses for everyone, filling them, with Whiskey neat, passing them out fast as I fill them

“A toast, a toast” I say, with a flourish of my glass, “To Order, my friend, for your time shall come as will our own, so drink, drink and turn the damn music up and lets have some fucking fun!

by Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020

Her Many Ways


She says she wants to go before me
because she says she’s not strong
enough to see me go.

She often casually calls me darling
from across the room
likes we’ve always been.

She pulls the positive from me
and pushes the negative away that
at times I let invade.

Whether in darkness or light
she takes my hand knowing
I will protect her in an instant

She seeks to know my day
whether it’s mundane or magical,
she seeks the knowing of me.

She often asks what was the best
part of my day, and my answers vary,
but I never say what I should,
that it’s the drive home in knowing
I’m going to see you.

It’s not easy for me to love.
Distance is my friend, for closeness
lets the hurt creep in.

Yet, I wish her close.
I want her near.
I want everything she
has to offer
I want all her tender
ways.

By Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020

The Red Queen


She once sat a throne of bones
and violence, of endings
and beginnings unwinding,
while always seeking a home.

I found her to be funny, frivolous,
fraught, extreme, and sublime
all in a few heartbeats
of a day.

She seeks the happy,
as she delves for the pride inside
of her and the precious life
that resides in the self.

All her shimmer
rides a rail of magic,
all her gold glitters
at the end of a lost rainbow.

Her beauty often touches
on another world,
where mysteries come alive
and mesmerize
only to slowly fade away.

She has made a home of me,
and I am grateful in that
choosing, for there is
no other place I wish
for her to be.

For she will forever in a day
be my Queen.

by Philip Wardlow Jan, 2020

She’s true


Often, it’s hard to trust what’s true,
when it’s wanted so badly it
sometimes leaves you feeling
a damn fool.

I know her love is rich and as
warm as the dark coffee and sweet cream
in my cup.
So I drink her down, down, down
and she picks my tired soul up
from the ground that I had been
laying on.

She’s my Nature, she’s my Sun, a
a field of flowers which clings
to me that I roll in until
the dawn comes.

I can’t catch her lightning, and
wouldn’t want to try,
She’s finally escaped that bottle,
the lids far flung
I’m just trying to keep up
with her escape
as she runs.

I’m not worried,
I know her eyes will always
find me as I know her gaze seeks
only my own.

I love her truly,
as true as she loves
me, and I would be the
fool to ever
wander away from such a
passionate love that
has all my
affections for all the
time that life
has left for us
to be.

by Philip Wardlow 2020

Don't let the mystery of you go unknown

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Weaves of the Wheel

A Wheel of Time Community

Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry

Health • Inspiration • Life

Debatably Dateable

But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for

Rust.in.the.Soul

Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul

Go Dog Go Café

Where writers gather

The Emotional Being

Realise your innate perfection

MelDouleur.com

one thousand words are not enough

Erotic Yearnings

Erotic Poetry and Stories

STROKE(d)

journal

VIVID LENS VIEW

Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...

Awapara Art

A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life, and my Wandering Mind

All Thoughts Work™ Outdoors

Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013

Just read

Reviews, raves, and rants it's all about the books we read

ReclusiveDreams

an alien among humans

World of Horror

A cozy cottage for writers and book lovers

Elan Mudrow

Smidgens

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