Swing Swing Bun
do your thang
see the sky
Your floppy ears
You don’t care
you don’t give a
flying fuckity fuck
as you soar through the air
letting the luck of your
good or bad
Fling you into probabilities
Bring it on! You say.
So you pump and you pump
your little bunny legs
causing the swing
to reach ever higher
by Philip Wardlow 2017
Tested, time and again.
her own tears.
A woman. Just a woman? Never.
A leader with a heart laid bare
keen of mind,
with innate skills
As death places its deal
upon her table and
she answers back
For she was forged in a lifetime
Do you hear that?
A soft whisk,
a honing of a blade to
a sharpness like none
Delicate, determined, Beautiful.
Yet, who holds those warrior hands
As the light dims on her day?
Who holds her heart?
her tears her away?
Stay strong Warrior Chi.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
The Five Tenets of the Sword~
Once light as a dead bird’s body in my hands,
this weapon now weighs more than the collective souls
of a million men,
sweat glistens on muscled forearms strained
needles in legs drive deep,
yet I stand.
Conditioned for this in every cord, tendon, and bone
that runs through.
Hours upon hours, Days upon days,
Years to master myself, then years to follow
to master this weapon.
The placement of the foot just so, hands balanced
sword poised at the perfect angle.
Advance, retreat, first position, second position
third, and on and on and on,
an endless dance until the music stops
with a myriad of outcomes at its end,
and I know every step in the
countless tangle of each encounter.
I am steadfast in my defense and attack
yet, I let the mind drift into that nether
region between thought and the what-if.
Never thinking I know my opponent
for he will do what I least expect and I
must expect the least expected in the blink
of an eye, for it could be my eye that is lost.
Ignore your sixth sense at the cost that
only fools pay when they are finally put to
rest in a shallow lonely grave.
My line of sight travels down my sword
to an opponent that only wishes me a quick death
I see all my years to come, laid out bare for
him to snatch from me, like a breath from
a baby as he sleeps deep.
I am no newborn! Swaddled and waiting.
But born to this moment in time.
So come. Come!
And I will share you a secret
as I whisper your own death in your
The hardest of the tenets to maintain,
for they drive all the rest in me.
Fail this one and I fail them all.
Be steadfast you ask of your soul,
Be steadfast you implore of your heart.
Be steadfast you command of your mind.
Find a focus to compel the body forward.
Find a focus to awake each day.
Find a focus to believe in you
when no one else ever will.
Find that will
Simply find it
For there can be no other way.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Two simple words
yet as complex
a phrase as you
will ever hear
While opening your mind
to the darkness inside
and letting the night take you
where it will
replaced with a surety of a soul
that has always
resided in you.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
If I called her delicate
She might well give me
a dark eyed glare
and haul off and try and hit me
Then I would laugh
and push her down
She would fight
Oh yes, she would fight
against muscles she
couldn’t hope to overcome
But I feel her strength
a quiet marching strength
in her soul.
It pours off her in everything
she says and does.
But she has a delicate
For her heart has been strained
Pained beyond belief at times.
Yet she hangs on
through that strength at
I feel it as she struggles against me
As I smile my mischievous smile
and get her to smile along with me
in that struggle
And let her win…
by Philip Wardlow