IT BEGINS WITH A BEGINNING
AND AN ENDING
CYCLE UPON CYCLE OF LENDING
IT HAPPENS WITH THE WIND OF FATE
PRODDING AND PUSHING,
EDGING TOWARDS A DATE
WILLS BECOME BENT.
AN ORGANISM LIFE IS SPENT.
ONE WILL BLOOM IN ITS’ PLACE.
BUT ASSUME ANOTHER
FACE.
TIME IS GOVERNED BY LIFE AND
IN TURN LIFE IS GOVERNED BY TIME.
EVER EDGING AND CRAWLING TOWARDS
THE SUBLIME
by Philip Wardlow
The Five Tenets of the Sword~
Strength~
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
drained,
needles in legs drive deep,
yet I stand.
Conditioned for this in every cord, tendon, and bone
that runs through.
Skill~
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.
Instinct~
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.
Courage~
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
ears.
Will~
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
Fill up my time fish~
She said, “Fill up my time
while I wait for something
that I can finally keep
to drop on by.”
He said, “You’ll do,
you beautiful thing you,
now hurry , spread your legs as
my want of you is almost up.”
You are my novelty for the day,
the week, the month, the year,
as my desires
run their phases like the moon
runs its course across the skies
a hundred thousand million times.
You didn’t know it, but you did.
You hoped, but you still did.
Our original sin, over and over again.
That seems to be half the fun.
Are we all hobbies? Habits?
Frivolous fantasies and disastrous
desires run amok?
Dear affections that grab us like
a child holding tight to a goldfish
in a brand new bowl.
We all know what happens to that fish.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
My Shiny Metal~
I float in this boat,
bobbing at
the whim of the waves on my course.
A slave to nature’s most erosive
force.
Always weighed down by other
distractions in my journey.
Sometimes I hardly know its there,
so quiet it can be, so still
never moving an inch.
When did it first settle on to me,
this quiet rage.
Clinging to me like barnacles on the
hull of my ship deep at sea.
Eating away at the steel in me
as it collects.
This quiet rage.
becomes cumbersome,
a weight that’s hard to
slough off easily.
Lift me from the ocean on timbered
beams and let me drip dry.
Now scrape, and scrape, and scrape
See my shiny metal gleam?
I must be diligent.
Scrape, Scrape, Scrape.
Lest this quiet rage
causes me to sink into
the abyss.
to become
just useless scrap
resting at the bottom
of a dark sea.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Flying~
Flying….I…ME…Searching with my lantern,
alight on currents of cold dusky air
The darkness below doesn’t feel the light
that leaks out and dribbles out like
bits of cold rain.
Fall, Fall, Fall
little light of mine….fall
a trickle of a smile
a patter of patience
a sprinkle of spoken
words full of regret.
Flying…lost…ME
in coalescing clouds
fusing, binding,
here I am, mingling
with the molecules as
I shift through the
atmosphere
Ever Apart…ever Onward.
Flying…as the light drips
down to the darkness
below…searching.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Letting Go~
“I’m gonna let go, but I don’t know where I’m gonna fall to?” asked the dirty faced little boy who hung limply from a clothesline in the pitch blackness over a deserted alley some four stories high.
“That’s right Michael,” said the other much older boy who hung out the window with one hand in a tight knuckled grip on the window sill and the other on the clothesline from which Michael hung.
“You gotta drop straight down and let us see what you’re made of. We’ve all had to do it, you won’t be the first,” the boy said, in a matter fact tone.
Michael looked up from where he hung at the older boy who had spoken to him, his face and body were hidden in the myriad of shadows the surrounding buildings cast upon him. It seemed to Michael that the shadows spoke to him, the voice didn’t belong to anyone at all just a disembodied entity wanting him to fall to his doom. Michael looked up higher to the stars overhead, his only source of light. He gazed at the nighttime sky, the dancing twinkling night. He had never noticed the stars twinkle as much as he did this night. It made him ponder, it made him think. It made him come to a decision.
He took one last look, time to see what he was made of he thought. He gave the shadowy boy a nod and let go. Just like that.
He fell for an eternity. His long hair was pulled upward as he heard the rush of air flow past his ears. The beat of his heart was the only other intrusion upon his senses as he fell. The stars above were lost in a deep blackness that couldn’t be pierced, like falling down a well at night.
Thump!
He had landed and he was alive. Somehow he was alive. Michael got up and stood amidst the cheering, hooting and hollering of the other boys that had waited down below. Then he simply turned from them and walked away and never looked back. He did look up though at the twinkling stars.
The End
by Philip Wardlow 2015
My Pillow ~
A heavy heart leads to heavy eyes
often in a night with no end.
The pillow knows me
well this past year.
Tears accumulated in its
cotton fabric could
tell many a tale.
to any stranger who
would care to ask.
But my pillow knows
how to keep secrets
to my detriment it seems.
From loneliness,
To envy, from fears to
lies, unknown desires, on to
shame, and honor
lost.
I am but me,
with a ready smile
and an open heart.
and a soul
frustrated at its
wonderings.
Learning, seeking
self, as I do not
trust that seeking
in its self.
For I lie to me.
Wonderful me
I lie to me.
Where do you go wish to go?
And what road do you
want to take to get you there?
My eyes finally close.
and only my pillow
knows those
answers I pose
to myself.
By Philip Wardl0w 2015
Fortis fortuna adiuvat ~
Goddess of Luck
You shall see me, for I have not
always shone brightly in your eyes.
Perhaps the clouds have hidden my form
beneath your lofty perch..
but I shall give you no more reason to doubt
or ignore.
See me!
No longer in shadow shall I be.
See the sun? Ha! It shall pale in comparison.
I shall not be cast aside.
Even if your eyes
were torn out, you will see.
I will attain a greatness to rival even your own.
Oh Lady Luck!
You, who never knew despair,
You, who never touched feet to human ground
beneath.
What do you know of struggle?
What do you know, to call yourself
my judge and artiber of all that
is me.
You know nothing
when I show you were always wrong
about me.
You will know nothing.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Mind • Body • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Mind • Body • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 