Tag Archives: friend

Every experience


 

Good or bad
Drawn out
or just a flash
A Tragedy
or favorite
melody
to hold close
in your heart
I suppose.
A smile, a compliment,
a slight, a slap
a bite.
A hug or a deep
kiss
in a moment when the timing
can be no more perfect
than it could possibly ever be.
Every experience,
Every jarring intrusion
Every refreshing inclusion
Every meandering way
that perhaps led you
to me and then pushed you far away.
It all matters
and then it doesn’t
but it matters.

By Philip Wardlow 2017

Ever hopeful


 

Fists balled in anger,  soul sad and fed-up,
yet ever hopeful that his carefully balanced cup
stays half full for the days he knows to surely come
will  be worse than this one.

So he drinks a toast to life still here, full and bright.
Dances with a half drunk girl
he’ll never know,
as he smiles at himself for the kiss he stole.

Then goes home to his empty home;
unless you count his cat Jack
with the biggest eyes you’ve ever
seen for him.
Oh what a wayward lover he is.
Yet, all it ever does, is make him wish
that a girl would look at him that same way.

He is ever hopeful
for he’s built that way,
he’s always been
since he was a small, wee
lad.

Ever hopeful,
even as it all crumbles away.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

My appetite


 

spectactular

She comes home

and does what she wants.

Does what? We don’t know.

She wont say.

But it’s not much,

because she’s cut off and closed away.

Far and in-between the what-if

of her.

She is a melancholy angry mess

I can’t put my thumb on her

and she’d break it if I tried.

But I do, because I can, and she lets me pry;

however reluctantly,

because that’s all I have ever done.

I speak the truth, because lies are boring vicious things.

Even though the truth is often painful

as a motherfucker,

it’s freeing,

casual and a sweetness

rolled into a ball and

swallowed down

that speaks to my

appetite.

Which always

hungers.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

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

 

 

Bubble People


Bubble

They bump along in their bubbles…

with all their different colors

at times comingling…a bright red meeting,

a dull blue or electric  yellow sliding along a prim’s

purple slick skinned surface

grazing against, just ever so.

Electric,  crazy, frenzied, varied, morphic, erotic

Dare I say fun? Yet…the bubbles eventually move on

Some in sadness…some not giving a shit….beep bopping

away in a rush.

Or they simply just

POP!

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

Ship in a Bottle


ShipBottle

 

Ship in a Bottle~

A sailing we will go!

A sailing we will go!

But on the currents we shall float

on a ship in a bottle in a big row boat.

The wind cannot touch our sails,

only our faces as we sit,

atop the glass

on a encased little wooden ship.

Our phonograph shall play at the stern

pushing us melodiously along

as we sit on the bow of the

bottle as the clouds pass low.

The little sailor man below, dressed so primly

but with his big straw hat to shade the sun,

 shall keep a firm grip on the

tiller to steer our unknown path

to the unknown.

And I and my friend, shall munch

on little sandwiches come lunch

and just enjoy the day

as it passes by,  spying our fancy friends

in their hot air balloons in the distance.

As we sit on our  ship in a bottle in a big row boat.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Be Brave


“Be brave,” said Pooh to Piglet .poohPiglet
“But it’s not so easy to just be brave Pooh. There are so many scary things out there.”
“Oh, I know that friend, I know, so many things, but the world was meant to be a scary place for good reason,” Pooh said, smiling.
“Meant to be scary! That’s not very comforting Pooh, no not all,” Piglet whispered, frightened.
Pooh took Piglet’s hand, “Now, now don’t you worry, I am here and even when I’m not
here I am still here, ” said Pooh, touching Piglet’s chest over his heart.
“Oh!” Piglet exclaimed, surprised.
“I feel it to,” said Piglet
“Feel what?” Pooh asked, getting lost in thought as hungry Pooh bears sometimes do
“You there in my chest, it takes the place of that fear.” Piglet said.
“Well of course, why do you think I am so brave?” Pooh asked.
“Why Pooh, why?”
“Why? Because you are here, in here with me silly,” Pooh chuckled to himself.
“Oh,” Piglet said in wonder, smiling.
“My comfort from my fears will always be you, my bravery from the scary things in life
will be my friendship I found in you. That scary stuff brought us together and that’s
a good thing in the end.”
Pooh took Piglet’s hand and continued their walk down the dark forest path together.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2015

Your eyes – A poem


 

Jeremy_Penn_Jessica_Stam_eyes

 

 

 

 

Your eyes ~

Your smile is a lie

Your laugh is a lie

Your mouth is a lie.

 

But your eyes, yeah,

your eyes,

they never tell a lie.

 

Look away, look at me at deeply,

look at another, or at

me with disdain.

 

A broken dirty window to the soul

to climb through into you.

But I don’t wish to get cut.

 

The rules of you are a fickle thing at best,

written on a chalkboard always soon to be erased

and replaced anew.

 

Your eyes always give fair warning, like the

lighthouse as it swings around 360 degrees,

as I bob and  bounce in my little boat offshore.

 

The signal is clear in your gaze

or lack thereof

It’s crystalline blue.

and bright.

 

And will light my way out of this

maze that is you.

 

Philip Wardlow 2015

 

Jeremy_Penn_Jessica_StamFULL
Artist Jeremy Penn with model Jessica Stam

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She – a Poem


She ~

She’s beautiful… not oh, look at her pretty face I want to fuck her beautiful.

Of course I would in any angle and position I could put her in.

But beautiful like an explosion of all the senses that she touches in you.

From your heart to your hand which finds all her release points.

Her eyes that find yours across the room , wanting nothing else but to please…

She’s beautiful in the way that leads you to want to wrap around her like a blanket .

She’s an addiction, an affliction a contradiction at the apex of her attraction

She’s trouble.. oh so much trouble

but the good kind you want to unwind

and let spin and spin and spin

She is simply a connection, a puzzle piece,

that missing part that you didn’t know

was apparently needed

to make your soul complete.

Downcast
watercolor by Steve Hanks

By Philip Wardlow 2014

All of It – A Poem


Hands

All of It ~

 

She’s everything,
cute, luscious,devine
wickedly mischievous
a show off, and needy,
funny yet pinch your nipples
serious at times
A passionate soul,
with a demanding nature to be
nurtured and loved and
hugged.
Eyes which twinkle yet bore
into yours, wanting
and wanting
more
and more and more
Damn she’s a chore.
But oh boy, when she asks for
more.
You know what I mean
You smile, because you want to
give it.
With her, your in it.
Deep….balls and all.
To the wall…to the floor…
in her arms and she in yours
and is there any
better place to be?

 

 

by Philip Wardlow