Tag Archives: friendship

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The Adored and the Smitten

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Which do you prefer to be?
The Adored or the Smitten?

Why, as the Adored must come
all the rewards, 
Eyes upon you,  an audience
numbering from one to one million.
Hell even the right one can pour it on thicker
in one mere moment than a million.
How can you lose. How can you not see
all the pleasure that brings?

As the Adored are you ever bored?
The Smitten have always outnumbered
the Adored. 
They keep coming and coming and coming.
Literally they may be coming.
But in all seriousness,
let's just hope they don't knock upon
your door as they can get quite obsessive I have heard.
Gift upon gift, upon gift,  just to catch a peek
perhaps to see, if what they  they sent
fits.
It does, Oh , it's divine! 
Oh, by the way I also like the white
one.

But the Smitten, oh the Smitten, 
they have their dreams
manifested in flesh, and a smile,
and words that are just for them.
Oh, the attention....it's everything.
To be seen, to know you affect their
life in that one small moment 
To possess the power to push it 
up or down.
They are allowed to  live within the life of the Adored, sitting at
the edge of them, just a hair's width away
from their every movement.
Keep those compliments coming though,
never wary for the Adored do get bored
as do the Smitten.

It's a transaction,  a give and take. 
A take and give.
Did you think you were Special?
You the Adored, do you think you are truly treasured? 
You the Smitten are you truly charmed? 
Do you think you see them as they truly are?

If in this life we flow from Give and Take
what is ever truly real, what is ever truly fake
if all our dealings are ever based upon
the transaction?

by Philip Wardlow,  August 31st 2022
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

My loose change

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Ah melancholy you, melancholy me.
Twins of pains throughout our separate travels
in lands and time blown away by great
distances and choices right or wrongly
made.

You clutch dearly to your past like a child does a doll
all tattered and torn since received from her inception 
from the womb that bore here into this world.

Myself in that journey I took. and of which
I am still on, I fumble  in my pockets, fiddling with the
 loose change of memories I have always kept close
and collected throughout time.

Both predilections  in the way we cope in our
own entanglements are  either 
a solace, a penance, a nuisance, or
constant curse.

Why not us both seek a new  habit?

You throw down your doll 
I shall let my change fall
through my fingers as I grab
your hands tight in mine
and  continue 
our travels
together.


by Philip Wardlow  March 29th, 2022
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The not so long ago

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Not so long ago
you once never were.

Your pretty face was
not an image in my head.
You were non-existent;
invisible in my reality.

Then right in front
of me, you shone
like a day
that never knew light.
You popped in gloriously
and I could not look away.

How many turnings of the Earth,
how many cycles of the Moon
have gone by since that fateful date
of our conjunction?

You were magic found that night,
a treasure uncovered, a beacon
in a blanket of fog as
I held you tight,
dancing,
the music playing,
me dissolving into you.

Now you are ever present,
you sit in my mind
Never moving an inch
for I hold you fast in me.
For the lover you are now.
For the friend you will always be.

I like to think on the not so long ago,
when the Universe
brought your brightness
to me, and that I never want
it to leave.

by Philip Wardlow March , 2020

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Happy Happens

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I can’t make you happy
and you can’t make me.
Happy happens
independently
Stop missing the moments
when you could have
noticed.
And I’ll stop missing
my own.
But by my side
is where I want you
cuz happiness
is always better
shared.
And your smile, your laugh,
your touch
compliments
and fits
like a neat little
puzzle piece
into my
very soul.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Outside the Something

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7.7 Billion
and counting
Of them all,
tell me,
am I Outside or
in?
Cuz, I feel like
something’s wrong
when the Outside
feels like my home
when the Something got their groups
cliques, committees, each
of them knowing the others
favorite songs.
Something to call theirs
and theirs alone.
Right or wrong
they got theirs
and theirs are,
mad strong
numbering in
the thousands, hundreds, tens
I’m not even looking for all
that
hell I’ll take just three
like minded souls
similar to me
I am betting nothing
can beat such intimacy
but I’m
Outside the Something
and it
feels fucking
lonely.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

When it comes upon me

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There is nothing more
free than being
ME
There is nothing more to
life
than finding a
best friend in a
wife
There is nothing more than to have
those two things mingle
in an intense cacophony,
of a unique symphony.
And you just wade in
and swim.
Beautifully lost.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Reaching Her

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Some days are often dreams
she wakes from,
half remembered.
Perhaps best
forgotten.
Tears are given,
gravity catching,
taken by a lover far below
the sheer cliff she sits.
He climbs to her,
tears clutched tight
Ever ascending
Slow, ponderously,
Inch
by
Inch
By
Inch
He is a patient man
looking up,
giving her a full
loving smile
There is no other
place he’d rather be
For the view is
spectacular below
and above
to the girl
he’s trying to
reach.

By Philip Wardlow

 

 

Movie Reviews, Poetry Work

UP or Down

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Up or Down
you are still around
Know that. With a heart beat
that’s fucking fierce.
That beauty, that soul, that spirit within
still tolls and tolls and tolls
Oh they toll
Through the ever darkness
a smile, a grimace, a groan
You struggled and you struggle still
you so struggle still.
In bed you laid, fetal
Epitaph gouged out with bloodied fingernails
on wooded headboard
saying “She lived, but where has she gone
and will she ever return and in what state?”
Little does she know
She has gone no where
she never has.
She’s been in it, the visceral reality
sitting heavy upon her chest
choked out to almost
the last breath.
Yet, she struggled out the words FUCK YOU and
GO TO HELL!

So when gravity abates, should
she praise the fickle forces
in their absence?
Fuck them even more, so she says
Fuck them even more.
My heart beats
with no thanks
My heart still beats.

 

by Philip Wardlow

for my friend Candice Louisa Daquin love ya sis  🙂
catch her great work at her website at:
https://thefeatheredsleepcom.wordpress.com/

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Unprocessed

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I learned long ago
to bury my feelings in every
day life
the highs and the lows.
Why be happy when its just going to be
taken away in an instant.
And why show you are sad when you will
just bring every one down and they
really don’t care anyways.
So I smile. I joke.
I say I’m good, how about you,
to turn the conversation
away from me.
I have always been good at that.

But it builds in me
This tension.
Stresses of the day, anger at people, fears in life, continued failures.
I hold it.
I do much better inside when I let it out.
And I do.
Like reading a book, or watching a movie
I fall away from the world and I am just am.
Pushing my body in a work out, hard, really hard.
Having good sex, really good sex.
A good stiff drink.
Retreating.

But I’m working up to a better version of attack.
Talking to someone I trust to find
the feelings I can’t express or bring to
focus to what’s inside me that hides there even from me.
Like why I feel anxiety about seemingly stupid things I
shouldn’t.
Unresolved anger that I say doesn’t bother
me but does.
Why I fear a future I should love to imagine.
Hitting a punching bag helps,
riding my bike, free, unfettered
in the sun, in the wind
Away from the world.
Helps

But engaging really is the key.
I am releasing that need to
keep that wall sustained
I think it has hurt me way more
than it has ever helped

I want my melancholy to melt
I want my mind to connect
and my smile to flourish
in every possible way.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The Gravity of Her

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She is a force
an attraction
a passion,
pulling
a satellite revolving around the world of me,
a kiss filled with stars
that have never lost their
spark.
She is a meteor falling
Captured, I won’t let
go of.
She burns bright in my sky
My heaven filled
Gravity clutching,
holding down
the me of me
where I need to be
with her
Beautifully grounded.
as I kiss her in
in a nighttime rain
upon a lonely street
where the clouds fall
droplets compelled
Did they ever have a choice?
Did I?
Not hardly,
when it came
to the gravity of her.

by Philip Wardlow 2018