If I could hold an ocean in a glass then I could probably understand all there is to you…
Ocean of You
Tag Archives: love
Stuff – A Love Poem
Stuff
I was busy doing stuff when you came upon me…
That smile you directed at me got me thinking about stuff.
Wonderful stuff it was indeed,
especially when you walked away
and your stuff swayed and sashayed.
But what stuff did I have to offer you?
My smile wasn’t as bright, my pockets were bare, my soul not quite right,
I didn’t shine.
Our stuffs didn’t compare.
Yet you smiled.
and all that stuff went away in the instant it was thought.
So we wined and dined, talked and walked
held hands, and kissed on a bridge while the moon hung high.
Later, my stuff came up close to your stuff,
then went into your stuff while my stuff moved all about and around.
Your stuff was monumental.
So I made you my wife.
Such is the stuff
of life.
by Philip Wardlow
Somewhere in the Middle – A Poem
Somewhere in the Middle
Goldilocks was a high maintenance bitch;
just eat the damn porridge
and get in bed!
Too small,too big
Too hot,too cold
Too hard, too soft.
Big, hot, and hard
and she couldn’t take it.
Never quite right.
Never quite satisfactory.
She was looking for something
perfectly somewhere in the middle.
Golden curls flowed past
shoulders which never knew
beautiful burdens.
Lips laughed at another’s pain
while a hypocrite’s snarl formed
future wrinkles to flourish
into old age.
Blue eyes never saw beyond
the vale which she never
chose to lift.
She was a pretty petite THING,
the ugly cute troll under the bridge,
in her own graceless sort of
way.
Payment was always expected.
The world owed her the world.
Not once pausing….in her thinking…to reflect.
There is no you…only us,
and your somewhere in the middle
of it all just like me.
By Philip Wardlow 2013
Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow
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
THREE Poems from my younger years – by Philip Wardlow
AT THE MARATHON (GAS STATION)
AT THE MARATHON .
CHEWING BUBBLE GUM
MY FORTUNE SAYS I’LL BE ENVIED
BY EVERYONE.
AT THE MARATHON
CHEWING BUBBLEGUM
SITTING AT THE MARATHON
WAITING FOR A FRIEND TO COME
AT THE MARATHON.
WHO’D ENVY ME?
THE ONE WHO OWNS A BROKEN CAR.
AT THE MARATHON
WHO’D ENVY ME
THE ONE WITH A BROKEN HEART
AT THE MARATHON
THE NIGHT IS GETTING COLDER
AS THE CARS DRIVE BY.
AS I CHEW MY BUBBLEGUM.
WHO’D ENVY ME?
AT THE MARATHON.
By Philip Wardlow 1989
(PS. And yes I sadly had just broken up with long term girlfriend at the time n my teenage years)
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A Brother Far Away
Stomp Clomp Stomp Clomp
Marched the Family of elephants
As they trod the dusty distance
To the watering hole.
A brother far away
Hears the tink chink tink chink of steel against steel
to announce the arrival of the Big Top to town
A tenderly nudge of a mother’s
Trunk gently directs her curious baby back on
Course.
Brother feels the pokes and prods of the steel
Tipped hook as it lashes out at him when he makes a
Misstep.
The chuckling of the hyenas and the
roaring of the lions nearby incite
The lead elephant to bellow a warning
to keep away.
Brother hears the hoots and hollers of the crowd
Behind the dark circus tent as the lion’s cage lumbers by
with the great beast still asleep inside.
A west wind blows pushing through the plains , flowing over
The feather dusted clouds encasing the moon which hangs like a
Fluorescent white pearl over the watering hole.
Brother dips his trunk into the bucket and
Comes up with the last drink to be offered that night as he
Strains at the shackles to get a glimpse at the moon.
By Philip Wardlow 1995
Nothing & Something?
Nothing
That’s what I feel like sometimes
Nothing
Nothing, nowhere, no how.
When I see sunsets casting purple hues and
pinkish wisps set in a bowl of vibrant golden orange,
It always reminds me that I’m nothing
And something
A nighttime sky, filled to bursting with a voluminous moon
And a menagerie of stars and planets spinning and coalescing in a
Constant rhythm we can’t begin to see. That’s when I feel like
Nothing
And something
A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl who didn’t know I existed until
today, soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting. Nothing exists, not even
me.
And yet something…
Clues and misdirection, blind alleys and thorough fares, leads me by a
Leash to nowhere
Yet somewhere will be the end when the journey’s through
I am humbled at times but at others
I am petulant.
I am tired of feeling like nothing
Something sounds good
By Philip Wardlow 1996
The Fool – A Poem and aren’t we all at one time or another.
The Fool
I left my only picture
of you back on the moon.
I guess I’m screwed at ever
thinking I’ll be getting back
there anytime soon.
I could ask you for another,
but your narcoleptic and
you always fall asleep at
the exact moment my
lips form the question,
as if you’re a priest who
doesn’t wish to hear my
confession.
So sorry Mr. Man in Black
with that trace of white at
the neck that always looks just
a little too tight.
My truths are real.
My passions are true,
And my love, ah… well my love
turned me into fortune’s fool
for you.
By Philip Wardlow 2012
The Get- Up – a poem…….Happy Valentines Day My Dear….:)
The Get-Up
Fired golden curls cascade,
as your blue eyes smolder,
pink flushed cheeks slyly smile
at me with cherry wine lips.
White silk fitted blouse
scoop breasts like two
full dollops of vanilla ice cream
set in sweet candy cones of
pale lace beneath.
Tight black skirt wraps
around gartered hips
nestled against a lace thong
that parts the way.
Straps pinched tight to
thigh highs which hang close
against skin that has seen many
a sin.
Legs so defined as to entice a man’s
mind from afar and a women’s
eyes to fill with envy disguised.
Diamond studded black stilettos
command my attention as you
walk casually towards me
in the sexual space that
you create.
I am helplessly
yours.
By Philip Wardlow 2013
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter – A Poem (inspired by a novel of the same name)
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
I am but a dark silhouette back-lit
by your imaginings of what I must be.
My frame of reference is not yours,
nor is your own mine to see.
I cannot hope to know the true depth
of the strangeness that lurks behind those eyes;
the sadness, the desperation, and the longing
cannot be accurately defined as simply measured
by a ruler or thrown upon a scale like a piece
of meat.
Think me misguided, corrupt, or lost?
Think me a friend, lover, or a hero?
You would be wrong on all accounts.
I am simply a solitary soul cast adrift,
striving to find a good home to lift
me up from this cold stone floor and prop
me up next to a nice warm fire and hold
me tight.
by Philip Wardlow 2013
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
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 