Tag Archives: alone

More than he knew ( for my Father)


 

I didn’t cry for you when  mom told me you had just died. I don’t cry in front of most people.  It’s too much to give them of me.

My two brothers had.

I remember my older brother wailing something awful, eyes full of anguish while my younger brother’s eyes filled over, tears  flowing down his cheeks like a runaway river in full flood.

Like you, I never showed anger nor did I ever show sadness.  But I remember your smile and your silence.  Such was I.

Three days later we drove the hour and half to your house in another town to collect your things and attend your funeral. You always felt a world away but you had always been close really.

There it sat,  your house, small, non-descript,  dull in color.

I recalled as we entered, me  visiting you once all by myself staying for a weekend.

I had baked you a nice big chocolate cake because mom used to bake for you and I knew you missed it and I wanted you to smile and be happy because I knew deep down you were not.

I wandered the house slowly taking you in.

In the bathroom your razor still sat at the edge of the sink just waiting for you to come back to pick it up and use it.

The chair you once sat in,  still with the noticeable impression from the gravity of your body filling it as  you watched television.

My brothers started fighting over something of yours they wanted to keep for themselves. My mom began to complain loudly about something frivolous like she so often did.

There I stood in the middle of the living room. Lost. Thinking of you.

A soft light spilled through the living room window to fall on the wooden floor  at my feet lighting upon the dust motes which filled the empty space.

I pictured you there. Like me. Lost . Forgotten while the world worked around you.

A deep welling up of painful pressure begin to rise in me, to think of you perhaps feeling you were not loved in your last years here on earth.

To think you perhaps felt alone in this world at the end of it all, your life coming to a close and no one there to send you off with a held hand, or a kiss or heartfelt word.

Then I silently begin to cry standing there.

I couldn’t have stopped if I had wanted to.

Then mom noticed and pulled me in close with a hug, my brothers turn to me and I didn’t care

For these tears were for you not me.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

The Dog


 

There is a dog on a porch
that never gets to be let it in,
His head gets patted,
his belly gets rubbed
Occasionally.

He gets told he is a good boy
as his bowl of food is set
before him,
Right before
his owner jumps
in the car and disappears down the road.

The sunsets are his favorite as
the day departs
and the night entreats
with possibilities to
be found in the roaming…

But the leash restricts.
He can never venture too far.
from this porch.

So he just sits.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Stingy Jack


 

Stingy_Jack_by_Phenylketonurics

Good Old Jack,

walks in the twilight between our world and what you would

call the other.

Into the out of, on paths that only he can see

with Fool’s Fire held in a hand-carved gourd to light his way.

A Ne’er-do-well if ever there was.

Cursed to wander the earth.

Never to know heaven or hell.

You may see his spook light bob in a graveyard or two as you pass,

especially on All Hallows Eve and on through to all Souls Day.

Wise men say, Old Jack’s looking for a way into heaven or hell

on such nights as these when the veil is thin.

If you see him, it’s best to keep on walking.

He has anger in him, a deep abiding bitterness swells.

like the ebb and flow of time that has trapped him.

He will have no hesitation to collect your soul should

you cross his path.

So beware or you may find yourself dead or a mindless

freak.

by Philip Wardlow

Mr. Heavy


 

gravitypulls

It can compress;

this day

on temples, on back, and mind.

Tons and tons and tons

I feel it all the time, this gravity

like a thousand suns.

It rips, it pulls, it pushes, it smashes

This day in ruins.

And you cannot explain it away.

Why?

Why this heavy thing?

Where did it come from?

Why did the lightness simply go away

where once it resided.

Filled up like a helium balloon.

Now a lead thing sinks

into sands.

And no strong hands

could pull such a mass

free of Earth’s cold grasp.

Oh why, oh why Mr. Heavy do you bother?

Leave, just leave

and find another.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

floatingme

 

 

 

 

Message in a Bottle Received


messagebottleheader

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a hundred bottles or more

that had been cast out to sea,

an answer finally washed upon my shore

one morn much to my chagrin.

For you see, it simply read,

“Stop littering the seas with your sad and woeful pitiful pleas,

and just leave us be you little fucker! Leave us be!”

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

Flying…


 

raven

Flying~

 

 

Flying….I…ME…Searching with my lantern,

alight on currents of cold dusky air

The darkness below doesn’t feel the light

that leaks out and dribbles out like

bits of cold rain.

Fall, Fall, Fall

little light of mine….fall

a trickle of a smile

a patter of patience

a sprinkle of spoken

words full of regret.

Flying…lost…ME

in coalescing clouds

fusing, binding,

here I am, mingling

with the molecules as

I shift through the

atmosphere

Ever Apart…ever Onward.

Flying…as the light drips

down to the darkness

below…searching.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

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