Jump in the river and let it carry you out of the dark forest you are in…
Who cares where it flows if you are already lost….
Fearing anything is inevitable,
so face it headlong at a dead
run.
I hear most outcomes cause
you to grow beyond what you
thought of as a once heeled truth,
allowing you to leave that dark forest
far behind,
as you continue
to flow on, and on, and on.
By Philip Wardlow May, 2020
We slave to have everything,
we fight the world for “ours”,
we strive for perfection,
we seek a look of a dream
that shimmers and undulates
from a hot arid
plane
at the edge
of a horizon
containing all our fears and doubts
This seeming perfect way
of anything is bullshit
it’s just bullshit
everyone thinks they’re better than the other
vanity abounds as pride flattens them
under the gravity of their
making
always pushing, and pushing
down, down, down.
Their way is the best way, cant you see?
And if you can’t, well sorry, you are just
not as cultured as them.
There are no gray areas, only
high contrasts and muted voices
in a bubble.
Light and dark
banging against the other
until all the world
goes mad
held tight in a bright white straight jacket
in a dark as pitch
padded room.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
My Muse,
she sits upon
yon shore, across dark waters flowing,
serene and smiling with invitation,
red hair blowing
in the same direction
as the wide deep river
does go.
I find I lack the courage
to traverse such a feat, for fears
take hold of the mortal
man in me.
This side is good,
she whispers from across the waves,
full of life, stars, and wonderment.
Won’t you come over
for I know you will enjoy it too,
It’s where your soul will thrive
and come alive
as I sit by your side on the
riverbank of life,
exalting in all that
there is.
I look away,
avoiding her gaze
The river is strong and a
torrent of a task to cross
and nature has created a coward of me.
Oh, but her sweet whispers reach
my ears, speaking of mysteries,
of love, of magic and mischief.
The core of my being
smiles inside
at the bright,
light of potential
in those whisperings
of all that could
be.
So I turn to her
my red, red Muse
and smile as I dive in.
Cold water clutching,
I surface
stroke after stroke,
kicking and fighting
I beat the water with
a fury, setting
up a rhythm it cannot
ignore.
All the while I hear,
pulling
her words.
That wonderful self
never ceasing
until I reach the
far shore
Tired,
but alive,
fears cast
aside
as I fall
into my Muses
loving
embrace.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
Moments flit
mounting to minutes,
then hours,
Days cycle
as the sun sets
and I’m left
bereft.
Wasted, are the stars
that twinkle.
Wasted, is the moon
illuminating.
No inspiration wrought.
Looking deep,
a hole hides
where once
a solid space
did reside.
Why the vacancy?
Oh, if only the
tick tock
of time could
halt, or
grind down to
near a trickle
then perhaps
my soul would have
the tenacity
to finally
awaken
once
more.
Philip Wardlow 2018
Many of my days are good,
rich, full to overflowing
Abundant with love
Buckets sloshing
Passions pulsing
Ever sure, ever wanting,
ever taking of it all
Smiling from the inside
to the out
And I fall to sleep
Cradled in the knowing
Of my perfect world
Right in all its imaginings
Other days, like seeming
clockwork sneak in
To toil, to tire, to pull,
to question me at the what
Of It all.
Waves high overhead crash into me
And I can’t seem to remove myself from this tumultuous beach, to simply
Step back from this seething shore in me and just fucking relax
Give me that! I yell at the darkness
Give me that! Eyes open challenging all
my stupid, blundering thoughts
Head on pillow looking up
At nothing
with fickle sleep not wanting
to come.
By Philip Wardlow 2018
I wake up early
Laying there in the dull
grey darkness.
Aches, pains, tensions, and worries
intrude then.
Some I expect and accept, others I reject.
The rejected ones
Need to leave me be.
Just be
For once.
Perhaps this is what being
is for me.
Has always been
This conflicted contentment
This feared future
Not ever defined
Until it comes to pass
These runaway days
I chase after but they
fade, fade, fade
But I breathe a whispered
fuck you Mr. Future.
And get up when
the sun shines through
into my room.
Kiss you on the
cheek
And enjoy this
beautiful day.
by Philip Wardlow
I fear the tangle
and the untangling
I want the nearness
but want to runaway
I fear words spoken
in the light of day
but want those
same words
whispered in my
ear in the dark in
full embrace.
Fear and Want Juxtaposed
Side by Side
a creeping glorious
Twilight
By Philip Wardlow 2018
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
Wee moments stuck in thought
stuck in the thought
of too many thoughts.
Where does life go when you let it go?
Does it strap on sneakers and have a run.
Not caring the road its on.
Well I care for scenic, something with a view,
a journey,
challenging but not reckless or cruel
to the soles of my shoes.
Mountains peaked, craggy and windswept,
leading to dreamy sittings on precarious ledge,
fertile valleys , dark and deep, muddy and froggy with
all the chirps and burps to be offered in the sun
either draped in shade, or tinkled on
by a rainy day.
What say you?
What do you really say?
As you crouch upon your porch
seeing the world run away?
Ah, you have no sneakers?
A poor excuse.
Grab your slippers, or those
old flip flops.
And simply start out for a little walk.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Wellness • Poetry • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life, and my Wandering Mind
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Wellness • Poetry • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life, and my Wandering Mind
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 