Tag Archives: fate

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Like a Crazy Ass Bullet

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I was shot into this world like a crazy

ass bullet

Pinging and zinging off the solid metal

bulwarks

of life

Piercing and punching through

the flesh of the ones in solitude

who never knew me as I sped on,

cutting them in two, blood spilling,

entrails trailing on gleaming metal

warped by sinew and bone

for even a bullet can’t go unscathed

as it passes through you, you, and you.

Gravity is taking me, braking me

pulling me down….

The curve of the Earth is finally coming to meet

me on this hallowed muddy blue ball of a  ground

where I’ll be littered in with all the rest

that never found the target of their

intent.

Piles and piles of metal collect

in a mountain too high to climb. 

Shit, I wasn’t hoping for the bullseye

Just a piece, the very edge…

to clip it,

to show em all I could

fly fairly straight

even if fired from a gun

called Fate

by an unsteady hand.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Roll the Dice

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Dice

 

Roll the Dice ~

 

Dice,

Falling,

Gravity pulls

I threw them in the air,

now they must land somewhere.

On the table, they do a dance,

Rolling, tumbling, spinning,

so many combinations

could come.

No skill required at the outcome.

But my intent is everything.

For I picked up those dice

from that table

while all the rest just stared,

drink in hand,

in a perpetual daze.

Waiting.

Time slows, stretching out like taffy

pips tease then disappear

to taste a different future

as corners turn and angles

fly in a  latticework of physics,

a mysterious inertial

balancing act.

In favor or against

In favor or against.

Fate, a whim or not?

Fate is a fickle bitch.

But I will get into

bed and roll with her in the sheets

anyway.

 

 

by Philip  Wardlow 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

A bitch called life, my best friend (or Striving) – a poem

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fist-fight

A Bitch called life, my best friend ~ 

 

Let the dust die down and coughing fit stop

Let the world know I gave a damn or let them know nothing

at all.

 

Let them know that I loved and I lost,

and then chose to love again.

 

Winning isn’t an option anymore it’s either

do or don’t live to talk about it tomorrow.

 

Laced up

Dead eyes on,

Hands steady with

a wicked grin.

Ring the fucking bell.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

My Third Eye – A Poem

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Patipat Asavasena

 

 

My Third Eye –

 

It’s been plucked.

Right out of my head.

There it is, pinched between

that raven’s beak.

It has been reclaimed it seems

since I never chose to use it.

An eye always closed.

grows dark and distant.

Best to give it to someone else.

Yet, I feel the pain of its

loss already

My mind, my spirit, my heart

has already dimmed.

I want it back.

I have learned my lesson.

I promise.

I will use it,  give it back…

give it back,

please give it back.

I will use it

just give it back.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

 

darksiders_raven_by_eldeivi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow

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Happy Accident

Everything and anything

could have been that day,

yet I was there sitting in that place,

in that small little space,

in that time, that moment

plucked with you in

mind.

A hello, a smile, a small question

to catch my eye.

 My attention never wavered…as something,

yes something…told me

there was more  to this meeting,

more…

than just

the  casual.

You were my Happy Accident

if I only chose

to embrace it.

by Philip Wardlow 2013