Tag Archives: Campfire

Dark Days Perhaps Fade Away – Poem#1 through 3 Collection


Poem #1

Snuggled down deep with the dark at our backs, intense heated light upon our cheeks while tales are told of places and times either long gone or yet to be of the bold; fighting, with either triumph or death to unfold in stories so unreal as to be real for truth lies in the darkest of tales, ever mercurial and seeking a willful ear…

 

 

Poem #2

Lost little monster of the dark auburn woods . She is hidden, ever hidden deep within. A hideous beauty.  Sweet dark girl with eyes that burn with a magic earned in dark fires held sway by an intense and longing angry pain. More fearsome than the darkness that seeks her or so she thinks. Beguiling and devilish yet unknowingly selfless. Just you wait, you’ll see. when the blackness truly and finally comes to knock upon all our doors and hers, she’ll be the only one strong to stand in its way.   To right the many wrongs of a life stripped away.

Poem #3

If there be real magic, I shall discover it in my travels upon my boat, with its sails made of flicks of flame billowing and full, pulling me across a crystal ocean through the night and day of this worn out world.  Alone I shall go, but you may accompany me  if you so wish. But please know dear companion, I shall seek that magic even if I should fall off the edge of it all to find a new more inviting place…

 

 

All poems by Philip Wardlow 2017

Deadly Campfire – A poem for all you Campers out there this summer


campfire

We abide by the warmth of the fire,

our backs to the cold night woods that surround,

as dark imaginings linger through already mangled minds.

What could it be that terrorizes us this night?

We hear it, for it roams in a circle about us,

raking its claws on the trees in its passage,

brazen and bold in its rustling of the dead leaves

underfoot as it tromps its course.

Heavy breathing speaks of a great beast.

Long ago did our merriment falter and grow

into a cruel sickness within.

Fear is our only companion at this gathering

turned into a mournful wake by nature’s

hidden foe.

Rose was a pleasant girl,  bright and full

of light.

She was the first to go.

Harold never had a chance as it took him.

I  have his blood splattered across my clothes.

I shall miss them both.

Max was next, with his silly stupid grin,

as  it’s claws raked his face off.

Julie cried and cried, and held tight to

her log, but still she died as it took her

and that piece of rotten wood.

Sylvia and I  stare into the embers,

clinging to each other and a reality

that no longer resides.

Once there were six,

now only two.

My beautiful Sylvia,  my love, my life.

Yet still I feel no remorse as I throw

her to the creature and  began to run… Running%20Shadow

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by Philip Wardlow 2013