Tag Archives: girl

My Red


She often asks when I first knew I loved her.

I smile, because I know how she likes
to turn back to a memory of our love
from either just yesterday
or the very first day.

I tell her a different answer in a different way every time
for I find I discover myself and us in the asking.

There were a myriad of moments where
I fell in love (and still do) with her
and they always feel like the first time.

Kissing her passionately in a strong embrace.
Feeling the rhythm of her body as we dance
across the floor.
All her sweet affections for me in
caring about my well being.

Holding her tight why she cried in my arms
and then watching her sleep peacefully in them.

Delving the myriad of wonderful funny avenues her
mind takes in conversations over dinner.

Feeling special like no one else could when
she looks at me drinking me in, not wanting to
forget that scene of our lives and her filing it away
for future reflection.

It’s taking her to bed, and her trust me in the
taking of her, and sharing of all those intimate
precious secrets between just the two of us.

I knew I loved I her when she told me to just let
go and fall into what I was feeling and I didn’t
realize until that very moment I was allowed that
in my head and wanted it so badly to feel it
with her.

The moment when every minute, and hour and week
was filled with her in my head, and I didn’t want
to lose that feeling…it was everything.

My Red, I loved you from the start
whether I knew it or not.
I did.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Hug me


hugs
Artwork by Christian Ward

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hug Me~

 

A woman will always want  a hug more than a man

but a man will always need a hug more than a woman.

Neither knows why.

She will want his presence close; his arms and his heart.

In that very moment as he embraces,

he will be her harbor for all the days

that he holds her.

He will need her light and the one

she sees in him when he cannot.

Through that embrace, her light will envelop

him and strengthen him for all his days

to come.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monkey Girl


A thousand times a thousand,
I could tell her she’s beautiful
but her hands are pressedlarge_girl-monkey
against her ears,
as she hums
a silly tune.
I could smile her way
with sweet attention
eyes falling all across her
body in every which direction.
She’s blind to me,
as her hands are held tight
against eyes already veiled.
Tell me you feel something
Anything…a single thought
a broken dream…a wish unfulfilled
a desire drowned.
But you just grimace me a smile
and casually place your hands
over those luscious lips
that have never truly been kissed.
Oh, my little Monkey Girl

by Philip Wardlow 2015

She is ~ An Erotic Poem


She is ~

by JessiBeans on DeviantArt
by JessiBeans on DeviantArt

She is dangerous as a newly

sharpened knife
and delicate as a dying
flower.
I can’t read her mind
but I know her intention
is to please
while secretly demanding to be pleased.
Her sweetness is bottled up
in a jar labeled as poison
Drinking her down
would be problematic if
the antidote was not close at
hand.
Taming her
Cajoling her
Corraling her
You can try,
but you might die just a little inside
if you failed in your quest.
She doesn’t want a pussy,
she already has one of those
so strap on that dick
and pump up your
testosterone,
give her a gentle kiss
but no slack or quarter in bed
She wants you sir.
Deep deep inside
her deviate little head.

by Philip Wardlow

Pulled – A poem


Pulledlittlegirl

A little girl stands with arms open wide.

How must it feel to be the rope in a

game of tug-o-war?

Win or lose, it’s all the same,

the pain of strained muscles

and sinew running down to the core;

almost ripping.

Braided rope is much stronger than a little’s

girl mind or her soul that must hold to a

reality that slowly unwinds.

Her psyche is soft and pliable and will

if pulled, stretched, and thinned out

to nary a whisper of herself,  will

harden in the cold stale air and become

brittle and slowly break away in pieces for

all her days to come.

By Philip Wardlow 2012