Tag Archives: inspirational blogger

Let Go



Let go
Two simple words
yet as complex
a phrase as you
will ever hear

Give over
Give in
Just submit

To Life
To Me
To Change
To Everything

While opening your mind
to the darkness inside
and letting the night take you
where it will

Fear dissolves,
replaced with a surety of a soul
that has always
resided in you.

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Mr. Moon – A poem



Mr. Moon ~


Why oh why Mr. Moon do you walk

hands in pockets, eyes downcast,

as the stars sit in there satin blue sheet,


Don’t you know it’s all for you?

No eyes but yours can see

all that the sky can give.

Feel blessed in this.

Earthly trappings are not the

core of your constance.

Nor the phases you

endure in your

soul’s search

for permanence.

Even in shadow,

yet you are still whole.

Even though no others

may see.

You will always be whole.


by Philip Wardlow 2014

See Her – A Poem



See Her –

She sits in silent reflection

staring out a window she can’t see through,

wondering at the days of

misfortune the world has heaped upon her.

“I am pretty aren’t I”, she asks

Her hips have just the right amount of flare,

Her breasts are well rounded,

her eyes are deep and mysterious as the night

is long.

She can turn a phrase and engage in interesting conversation

just as well as the  next.

So why, why, why…

Does “that guy”  not see her.

Find interest,

or get her.

Perhaps she dwells too much in the shadows

they cast and not in her own


by Philip Wardlow 2014

I don’t know much, but I know this…

I don’t know much, but I know this…

I failed at the NaNoWriMo challenge….my 50,000  WORDS didn’t Happen….I was about  2 weeks in and had 17,000 words done….about 1,500 Word average a day for me.  I was doing fairly well. Making good head way to really amp it up and get myself to the 50,000 by the end of November.

WHEN BLAM….my body said to me…”Hey, your doing TOO well…time to get sick, so FUCK you!”

Yep.  I am just now getting over it. I had NOT Much energy except to maybe pull myself to work and try not to fall asleep at my desk.

My voice for few a days   sounded like Kermit the Frog after chain smoking for 30yrs. (no kidding)

It sucked….I HATE HATE HATE having no energy for anything …..  like  reading, writing, sex ,movie going, work, sex again…etc….

C’mon gods of Fates and Dillusionment!   Give me a break!

So this December will be my own private NaNoWriMo……Fuck you fates you don’t own me.

The sun has set on the old day I am going to get this Novel done its a new day coming. ‘Nuff said.


Words from another world During NaNoWriMo


NaNoWriMo Contest has started for me….  ME!

I have written thousands of words…I will tell not you how much because I don’t wish to jinx it…but it’s coming,  their coming….the words….I’m pulling them from the air as the words float down… grab…grab snag…

A snowball rolling down a mountain. It’s slowly getting Bigger! This world that I am building. I hope I can control it…

It’s  getting clearer  day by day  I  think….I’m feeling the world….getting into the characters….their struggle is my struggle…I want to find their resolution…give them an adventure….make them suffer….fail…pull themselves up and make them realize the greatness that can be theirs…

Wish me LUCK!….and whoever else is participating in the contest or even writing their own story outside the contest…I wish you luck….your struggle in this endeavor is yours…remember that…at the end of the day..the story is yours…own it and finish it , give yourself the story if no one else…and most of all enjoy the experience. …:)

bad luck1

No such thing as luck (good or bad)  in your endeavors…just keep plugging away at it….and it will build upon itself….

The Strength of Her – A poem


The Strength of Her – A poem

She is solid.

A brick wall could not withstand the onslaught she takes

upon herself in a day.

Crumblings of broken mortar would be the only memory of it.

Limits in place may  try and take hold

of a body pushed to the extreme,

but her mind says. “Nuh, uh. I ain’t having none of that”

Tired, but tireless.

Her core is molten lava

never cooling,

always moving,

burning through

shit as it travels.

Stay the fuck out of her way.

Back up.

Let her work.

Just smile, and admire, and admit

silently to yourself

how you wish you were her.

By Philip Wardlow

How is a writer created? More specifically How did I come to want to be a Writer.

I love a good origin story when it comes to the hero. BUT I am NOT going to bore you with the biography of my “exciting life”.  I will however key you into the  start of how someone like me turned to wanting to write in the first place.(so perhaps I may still bore you but I will try to keep it exciting by throwing lots pictures at you so your brain doesn’t get too tired with my ramblings.)

I will start out my “story” with a question.   WHAT shapes a person in life?  That brings up the next question to me, Nature or Nurture?

To me the logical answer is both…duh? –


See those guys there above in the picture?  They are my  brothers of which I have two of.  I am the one on the left (with the cool lean going on ).  They  definitely shaped my life.  Mainly because I was the middle kid of that trio growing up.  I looked to my older brother (middle kid in pic) to guide me in what I thought was the way you should act as a boy, guy, a man, because  our father died when I was twelve and he was all I had for a role model.

In the end, he only taught me how not to act, to which in itself  now that I look back,was helpful.  My younger brother only ever gave me a sense that I failed him somewhat because I think he looked to me, somewhat like I did to my older brother; for some direction. This time growing up with them was pivotal in my mind because it made me realize  that if you want to  find the answers to a problem when people are depending on you, you have to do it yourself, because no one else was going to do it for you.


The next picture above was going to be a picture of my mom. But I thought better of it, because  she’s not the focus really in my little story,  just a character to the side really. Instead, I wanted to show my escape that I went to in the early years before and after my dad had died. My family life  was in shambles from probably the age of four.  I remember the fights, the plate smashing, the bitching by my mom, in how life was never good enough or how we lived in a hell-hole. (I loved my hell-hole of a house by the way..I knew no different) .   I only remember my Mom in all this because my Dad was always the quiet one.  He just would sit there on the couch or at the dining room table  and listen to her rants until she calmed down which always seemed to end in crying.

So I escaped ….I would watch shows like Creature Feature, Twilight Zone, Buck Rogers, Speed Racer, or Scooby Doo, ….I fell into the stories and the more the fantastic the better. The more removed from reality, the more engrossed I became and nothing could take me out of it. I was in that world while it lasted.  These were worlds  that I could understand more than the ones right inside my own home.


As I grew older, I’d say about ten years old, I came  to love comic books. I discovered them in a little book shop across the street from our new apartment house (first of many to follow) in one of my mom’s flight to get away from my father .   For 25 cents and up, you could purchase a world where anything was possible and live vicariously through the eyes of a character and see what they saw and know what they thought. Needless to say, by the pictures above,  my favorite character in comics was Spiderman. But the thing is,  like I am sure like many other fans did, I identfied most with Peter Parker, his alter-ego. He was smart,determined, didn’t fit in because of his awkwardness,  had an Uncle Ben (father figure) who had died and they were poor.  Spiderman cracked jokes all the time.  So yeah, I  identified with him more less. And yes,  I am corny, I did believe in the phrase “With great power comes great responsibility” line.  I still do to this day and it shaped many of my decisions more than than once in my life. Not saying I’m a superhero jumping off buildings trying to save people.  I’m saying you could have the power of hurting someone’s feelings with the wrong word or you could instead instill in that same person a sense of something to boost their pride or keep their spirit going…everyone has value ….yeah I have always been a sensitive kid that way (to a fault at times).


The next logical progression after comic books for me was books…oh those magical books…I love the person who founded the library system and screw that YA author & actor Terry Dreary, who recently stated that libraries are not relevant anymore. I was a poor kid way back when and besides shoplifting I couldn’t have read a quarter of the books that I read in my younger years without that glorious thing called a library card. Those books saved me. Where my brothers found escape in running the streets, shoplifting, fighting, smoking, or drinking,  I found it in words. They wrapped around me like a cocoon where I grew and grew inside.  They helped form inside me  a vocabulary, a world, and a mystery only I was privy to.

I hit my teen years where life divided me into two worlds….those of my friends who to me ,had everything I didn’t,  to a family at home which was slowly disintergrating before my eyes; my brothers, my mother, and me to a degree. Where once I was kid who found possibilities, now I saw only wanting an escape. Home was not a comfort, it was a prison, a sentence to ride out until school or I visited my friends at their home.  I developed a complex about everything from the gap in my teeth, to the way I would sometimes stutter when really nervous, to the clothes I wore, and the place I lived. I never had friends for a sleepover because I was embarassed about my family and home. I always felt inadequate to the task; never quite good enough for the rich kids or smart enough to fit in.

So I studied and I studied. I got smarter. I forced myself to beat back the depression with knowledge and lose myself in asking the abstract questions. To question everything and challenge myself not to be led by others. I still didnt feel like  I fit in, but I had begun to have better tools to see myself as not as a joke in their eyes but more as an equal.


After a few failed girlfriends and a couple of years in college I finally met the love of my life and married her….She turned me around (even though I didnt realize it at the time) and taught me the value of what life is.  She taught me the value of committment and compassion and that things mattered. No more was my story mine now it was ours and I wanted to share my life with her….



Then he came along and made my life a living hell.  You know I’m kidding…. But life was a worldwind for a bit…Those years of him growing up, were fast and furious , and for some reason, writing really never entered my mind. But as I went from one  job to the next job,  to the next job in my  career I woke up one day and  realized very  strongly I didnt  want the path I had chosen and that I felt I was made for bigger things than the lot  I had fallen into.

I wanted more than the hum drum day to day life I was leading….so I went back to college and took Creative Writing & English Lit courses.  I got in with other writers and talked with them and learned from them. I started writing. I started CREATING.  Then that little butterfly that had waited so long to be formed and released from its Chrysalis broke out and flew. Now I’m blogging about my journey to be the next Stephen King or the next Ray Bradbury or the next Philip Wardlow….I may have come a little late to the train station but I caught the last seat in the car….and I’m settling in for a long trip.