Where waves once gently lapped
now they churn
and pound
relentless.
Once anchored,
now moorings torn
dragged out to sea
all now adrift.
Rising phasing fickled moon
taunts like a schoolyard bully
cold and biting
as it sinks away with the
promised sun,
and its burdensome
loathing gonging heat.
Just an insignificant bobber
afloat,
Eyes staring at the nothing and inward
universe, wondering at the why
of it all, and the wanderings
we seek when the world calls.
Fish nibble at toes,
Tasting,
Sharks circle,
Waiting
For the final death throws,
for most like an easy
meal under an early
morning light.
Delirium
brings a dark, dark,
silhouette
against a lit azure sky.
Pulling…tugging
…breathing life…commanding a body and mind
long past dead to
to snap back to resolution.
Blackness enfolds,
Awake,
softness holding
in a quiet room abiding
of the whitest white
With distant shore finally reached.
As a gentle lapping at the shore
comes to finally an open ear
ready to finally hear.
A new way of life.
by Philip Wardlow 2018
Tag Archives: choices
Quote of the Day from Mr. Nobody movie
“Each of these lives is the right one! Every path is the right path. Everything could have been anything else and it would have just as much meaning”
by Nemo ( actor Jared Leto) from the movie Mr.Nobody
The Marvel of a Marble
The Marvel of a Marble~
Your body, so lithe and light;
it floats effortlessly,
like a ghost lightly traversing an open space.
Pirouetting, arms flung, delicate hands in pose
All for show; for your spirit is not sovereign.
It wears a weighted vest, zipped tight.
Gravity bears down, in its
responsibility to do its part
in the relativity of all things
of keeping that piece of you
controlled….limited….reduced
and compliant.
Structure, and rules
and useless fears need not apply, yet they
do with you.
A marble rolling along a curve
may call its path predetermined
unless it chooses to jump the ledge
it glides upon.
So jump, oh glorious marble
Jump!
And find that distinctive dance
where vests are flung, and feet move of a volition
not prescribed by a choreography
found strange to your mind’s eye.
Jump! oh glorious marble, Jump!
And find where you might
finally land.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Letting Go – A Very Short Story
Letting Go~
“I’m gonna let go, but I don’t know where I’m gonna fall to?” asked the dirty faced little boy who hung limply from a clothesline in the pitch blackness over a deserted alley some four stories high.
“That’s right Michael,” said the other much older boy who hung out the window with one hand in a tight knuckled grip on the window sill and the other on the clothesline from which Michael hung.
“You gotta drop straight down and let us see what you’re made of. We’ve all had to do it, you won’t be the first,” the boy said, in a matter fact tone.
Michael looked up from where he hung at the older boy who had spoken to him, his face and body were hidden in the myriad of shadows the surrounding buildings cast upon him. It seemed to Michael that the shadows spoke to him, the voice didn’t belong to anyone at all just a disembodied entity wanting him to fall to his doom. Michael looked up higher to the stars overhead, his only source of light. He gazed at the nighttime sky, the dancing twinkling night. He had never noticed the stars twinkle as much as he did this night. It made him ponder, it made him think. It made him come to a decision.
He took one last look, time to see what he was made of he thought. He gave the shadowy boy a nod and let go. Just like that.
He fell for an eternity. His long hair was pulled upward as he heard the rush of air flow past his ears. The beat of his heart was the only other intrusion upon his senses as he fell. The stars above were lost in a deep blackness that couldn’t be pierced, like falling down a well at night.
Thump!
He had landed and he was alive. Somehow he was alive. Michael got up and stood amidst the cheering, hooting and hollering of the other boys that had waited down below. Then he simply turned from them and walked away and never looked back. He did look up though at the twinkling stars.
The End
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 