Tag Archives: friendship

Haikus of many flavors


Skipping ~pretty

My mind skips to you,

Hip kick, quippy smile girl

I try not to trip.

 

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My Hands ~sexy

I smile knowingly,

her breasts were made for my hands

As were other parts.

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Whispers ~Mirror

Hidden words whisper,

As her soul shouts to be heard

Mirror doesn’t tell.

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Little Kitten ~angrykitten3

Kittens fangs are short

Paws petite, but claws sharpened

Feral to the bone.

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Fire ~flame-symbol

Roaring fires burn

buried deep in the mind

my eyes shine with it.

 

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Red Wine ~sexy+wine

Keyed up in body

Red mixed with red finds the head

as my eyes find you.

 

 

 

By Philip Wardlow

 

Words of Discontentment – A poem


 

Words of Discontentment –Jester

I will just sit here and smile
like a marionette
with a painted on grin.

Shall that make you happy?

Nothing is wrong.
Seeeeeeeee….:)
I’m smiling just for you.
Aren’t I a good little boy?

Why should there ever be anything wrong?
Yes. Yes. Pat me on the head
All is fine in Whoville.
Why talk when
you can just
live in your own world of favored
opinions that works
just for you.

Judge me. Throw me away.
I have no friend.

I would hold your hand as you
walked through hell.

But you would kick me there
just to not be offended by
my presence you have already
deemed unworthy of your
company.

I guess I didn’t rate.
I guess the present I brought to
the party was found wanting
from the rest.

I guess I thought too much
of a friendship that was never
there.

by Philip Wardlow

 

 

Uncurling Brightness – A Poem


BlueCurl

Uncurling Brightness –

She may call herself invisible.

But I see her.

Melancholy eyes with a reflective inquisitive smile

for those that deserve it.

Hands that wish to touch,

and be touched.

Lips that wish to kiss

and be cherished.

Silent resolve,

and practiced patience

bundled in a cocoon

of courage that never

leaves any doubt.

Only a fool would fail to love

her.

Only a fool would see

her as a fading spiral,

while I only see

an uncurling brightness.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Glady’s and the Bat – 30 Day Halloween Poem Challenge- Poem #30


Gladys

Glady’s and the Bat

Glady’s was an adventurous girl

prone to fits of dangerous

distraction.

A faired hair maiden.

Fair of mind as well, a simple girl.

but strong of will.

And will it seems, goes a long way in the land of scary make believe.

as you will see.

For a creature existed at the highest of heights

who dwelt in a dark,  dark cave of the evilest intent and might

 At night this foul creature swooped and dove, and dove and swooped

into the quaint little village where Glady’s did dwell,

Shrieking as it flew, it  carried off poor villagers from out of their beds.

The town had dwindled down next to nothing under it’s

never ending onslaught of nightly terror and dread.

Left now, were only Glady’s, the ice cream maker,

the pastor, and poor old widow Lady Albright

to be found in the town at next sundown.

“I shall face this demon,” Gladys told the others calmly.

“Very well, do what you must, but leave us be,” Lady Albright intoned.

“Oh, simple child,” the ice cream maker only said.

“I give you my protection,” the pastor simply said,  as he looked to the heavens.

Gladys boldly walked into the square at twilight while the others peeked

at her from the safety of their bedrooms.

Sweaty palms held tight to her late father’s sword,

now rusted and pitted but still sharp and keen of edge.

A flutter of wings sounded in the distant as

a dark shadow descended.

A flit of nothing flew over Gladys and beyond her.

A  crash of glass, and a scream ripped the night as

poor Lady Abright was plucked from bed and covers.

Her tortuous wail faded into the dark clouds as

the creature escaped back to its lair.

“We must go after her!” Gladys told the others

“Are you daft dear girl, we would surely die!” the cream maker wailed.

“Her fate was already written I am afraid.” said the pastor knowingly

Looking to them both, her eyes narrowed in quiet consternation.

Then an  AHA! moment entered her wee brain.

“Next time he comes I have a plan,” she said quietly.

The moon fell and the sun rose and then the moon rose

again as the next night came.

“I don’t see how this will help, we shall all surely die.

I am the most important can’t you see?  ” the pastor intoned.

They all stood clutching  each other  together tied tight with rough braided

rope at the waist in the middle of the street,

“Are you not assured of your safety through your piety? What’s there

to fear for you?” she smiled slyly.

The ice cream maker shook in his place and simply held tight to his

tub of cream that he had been told to bring.

A shriek preceded it’s shadow as it decended.

Talons clutched and pulled, grabbing the pastor

Yet the pastor did not budge, the weight being too great.

“Hold, monster!” Glady’s  yelled.

“Is it blood you seek? I have something sweeter,”

Glady’s grabbed the tub of cream, popped the top

and plunged her hand in deep.

She then  slathered the good pastor from head to

toe.

“Go ahead have a bite”  Gladys said

The creature landed,

Black fur, big ears,  wings ending in talons,

Teeth white, sharp and long,

Eyes wide and mad approached on spindly legs.

It looked at them each, and slowly full in the eye.

“Sweeeeeeeeeeeet!” it said sniffing the air.

Then bit into the pastor deep.

The pastor squeaked then died.

The dark bat licked the dead pastor clean.

“Mooooore!” it simply said

So Gladys gave him more.

And more, and more.

Now her and the creamer

share a house and keep the cream

well stocked.

As her and her pet bat go

on many a midnight walk.

by Philip Wardlow

Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow


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

What a woman wants – A poem by Don Juan aka Me :)


What a Woman Wants

She walks on by in her tight skirt,
as my brown eyes drink her in and
I say to myself, so it begans.

She smiles and I smile back,
I say hello in a way so she knows that
she matters in this moment to me.

I’m in engaged in her form, her voice.
Her smell of cinnamon must surely
taste like her lips if I were to kiss them.

I make you laugh as I tell you you’re the
sweetest girl I‘ve ever met and that I might just have
to take you home and put you on my toast in the morning
instead of my blackberry jam.

Would I be too forward if I took you by the hand

and looked into your eyes and told you to trust
me with  your whole heart as I wiped
away a tear from the tale you told
me of your last man.

You see, I see you.
I get you, I see your quirks,
I see your moods, I see your passions
and I’m right there baby

Right next to you and I’m
not going anywhere

Now come over here
and let me show you
what love is my
Dear.

by Philip Wardlow 2012

I Recall – A poem


I Recall

I recall her smile the first time I saw her

Radiant and warm with a hint of

Laughter at the edges

I recall her eyes

Deep and blue;  eyes you didn’t lie to

Because they could see right through you.

I recall many things about her

As I sit on my front porch swing

Gazing  up at the nighttime sky .

Thinking. Just thinking.

Bringing the past to the present

As I so often do.

I recall the sway of her hips.

A woman’s hips

Hands,  my hands enveloping her  from behind in

A loving embrace.

I recall her smell ;   fresh and sweet  like vanilla ice cream

topped with raspberry syrup.

My mind likes to wander to thoughts of her

The wonder of her.

My wife, and  my life.

I recall it all.

by Philip Wardlow 2012

 

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If I could Climb Inside – A Poem


I grab your head tight in a vice as you sleep sedated,

I make multiple cuts deep; past skin, past bone.

I pull back the flaps and climb inside.

Amidst a tangled mess I stand,

wires frayed and disconnected,

terminals cracked and decayed with

gears full of gunk and stuck tight

not moving.

A frown comes to my face, for this

cannot be all there is to you.

You seem to be dead inside, no lights

flicker on the walls to indicate an energy has

ever lived here…but yet I sense something.

A weak rhythmic hum travels into my feet,

as transient electrons skip through you

from somewhere buried deep.

I smile for I see there is hope yet to be had

Something yet lingers.

I set my tool bag slowly down

upon the floor and begin my work.

By Philip Wardlow