Tag Archives: mystery

Magical Maria

Do you know of magical Maria?
Some say she be
a sassy sprite with a  bit of a bite,
or perhaps a  nymph
wearing nary a stitch
frolicking and flitting
through the dark forest night,
just as nude as the moon
and as bright.

I was once told she be
a naughty gremlin who
causes all kind of ruckus
getting into much trouble
with no shame or blame
to share,
a real ne’er do well at times
mucking up more mystical
mischief than I ever did see
of anyone that could ever

Ah, but the keenest of tales
say she is a fairy of much
A beauty of the rarest rare
with eyes of emeralds and
lips of the sweetest cherries
and red, red flowing hair
wrapping around a body soft
as a new born babe.

She rides a Unicorn some say
and if you are lucky enough
on a given day
you perchance may
just catch a glance
of the prettiest creature that
even rivaled the stars to

If you be so lucky enough.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Dark Days Perhaps Fade Away – Poem#1 through 3 Collection

Poem #1

Snuggled down deep with the dark at our backs, intense heated light upon our cheeks while tales are told of places and times either long gone or yet to be of the bold; fighting, with either triumph or death to unfold in stories so unreal as to be real for truth lies in the darkest of tales, ever mercurial and seeking a willful ear…



Poem #2

Lost little monster of the dark auburn woods . She is hidden, ever hidden deep within. A hideous beauty.  Sweet dark girl with eyes that burn with a magic earned in dark fires held sway by an intense and longing angry pain. More fearsome than the darkness that seeks her or so she thinks. Beguiling and devilish yet unknowingly selfless. Just you wait, you’ll see. when the blackness truly and finally comes to knock upon all our doors and hers, she’ll be the only one strong to stand in its way.   To right the many wrongs of a life stripped away.

Poem #3

If there be real magic, I shall discover it in my travels upon my boat, with its sails made of flicks of flame billowing and full, pulling me across a crystal ocean through the night and day of this worn out world.  Alone I shall go, but you may accompany me  if you so wish. But please know dear companion, I shall seek that magic even if I should fall off the edge of it all to find a new more inviting place…



All poems by Philip Wardlow 2017

The Rabbit Hole


A flop-eared fuck of a rabbit ran on by,

tripping over me in his haste.

Never caring a wit in his bumping.

As if the air I occupied was insubstantial

and not worthy of one  of such good taste.

I hadn’t noticed the rabbit hole

 But he just dove

on in.

Fuck that rabbit. I didn’t know

who he was.

Or why he wore a tweed vest

yet his little bunny ass was left to stick

out below.

I just saw a dark hole in the earth.

with nothing but a deeper darkness


Fear clutched my throat

Words choked as I tried to yell

“What the hell?”,  at him.


Leaving me burgling for time

trying to figure out my


All the whys and wherefore’s

and whozits.

While the background receded,

the foreground contracted.

Leaving me in the tight middleground

of discontent, what-if, and


I hugged myself tight, but it wasn’t cold,

that was just my soul

falling to pieces

as I tried to hold my self together

while I flaked away.

Go Rabbit, go!

You have the right of it.

You know what time it is; always.

You know.

So  go down that Rabbit hole

because you’re a fucking rabbit

and you know what to expect.

I wish I could go


I just fucking won’t fit.


by Philip Wardlow 2017







Hiddin Within



Hidden Within~

He watches her. She watches him.

The dog , he watches nothing.

Their eyes can’t hide what lies beneath.

A tilt of the head, a downcast look tells

me all I need to know about their inner


They hate. They love.  They lust. They  laugh at


Is there sadness behind that smile they


Some hide from each other.

Some hide from themselves.

Some hide simply because they can.

I wish I could see all the dreams buried

deep within their heads.

Dreams which they’ve never fed;

maybe a doctor, a lawyer, or a whore,

maybe a pretentious pious little bore.

Their thoughts are hidden;

a landscape of dark shadows and fog banks hung


I watch it all unfold.

They can’t keep it hidden long,

for like a cauldron bubbles, spews, and spits so

does their mind emit a gurgling of regret, a wisp of

weakness, or a hiss of  hysteria in its’ attempt to lament.

I watch and I wait for it all to unfold,

for the hidden to be found and the found to be told.

I’m a spectator to the grand affair which is hidden within.

So know that when I look at you or you at me,

I will see you, see you indeed.

By   Philip Wardlow

The Moon


The Moon~

It calls to all the faraway places
This shining trinket which hangs
like a gold  pocket watch
ticking the time away
as it marches

With an allure
like none other

Must I look at it?

For it is a tortuously divine and
undefined device of the highest order

And you know of what I speak,
You who make the same useless wish
as I

You who brandish that ego to hide a bravado stalled in mid stride.
One that knows that wishes are cheap
as they are never expected to be paid for

But they are always paid, seemingly or not, they are always paid for.

So stop it Moon.

Stop dispensing dribbles of hope that are just as dry as your rocky surface
and let me just look upon you with a child’s delight and wonder
at your ever changing ways

While I wander through this world in search of more realistic mysteries
which I may truly call my own one day.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Strange but True? The 300 Million Old Screw

As a writer I like to look to pictures, art,  or  cool stories (real or otherwise) to draw on for inspiration for my stories and/or poems I write. I found this below little story on the cool sight called Stumble Upon, which always has interesting pictures, facts and stories to peruse when you are just bored or looking for something to do. 
Whether this story is true or not it still makes you think and I always love the What-Ifs and Mysteries in life.  To me this story is more fascinating than all the  ridiculous scenarios about aliens  coming to build the Pyramids, or having something  to do with Stonehenge, etc…. 
300 million year old iron screw

In the summer of 1998, Russian scientists who were investigating an area 300 th km southwest of Moscow near the remains of a meteorite, discovered a piece of rock which enclosed an iron screw. Geologists estimate that the age of the rock is 300-320 million years.

At that time there were no intelligent life forms on earth, not even dinosaurs. The screw which is clearly visible in the head and nut, has a length of about cm and a diameter of about three millimeters.
My thoughts after reading this:
I researched this a little more and found that this particular discovery has never been debunked as simply a screw being dropped into a peat bog or a tar part or encrusted in a ossilized sedimentary rock like a piece concrete.  Any of those scenarios would quickly explain away the reason for this  “ancient” screw.
The screw was supposodedly encased in this ancient rock at the time of its actual forming 300 millions years ago.  So who/what made this screw?… nature, aliens, time travelers….to me anyone of those three still intrigue me because we still don’t know the answer.
So  a  hmmmmm? forms in the brain. …A mystery……I love a mystery  because life in all its facets from  love, to certain friendships formed , to religion,  to our origins,  to space is really all a mystery no matter how much you think it may not be.  It is…  and that’s a cool thing.  That’s a fun intriguing notion that life is a mystery and still has mysteries and that everything isn’t  known.  That’s no fun.  That’s like knowing the ending of the movie before you sit down in that darkened theater with your box of popcorn…


You have so many years to discover others and yourself…
Life is never all about one thing…not sex..not love…not possessions…not knowledge…its everything; comingled into one great perspective that is unique just for you and sometimes you can meet that person who gets you a little and you get them and you share that perspective together and at that same time learn each other. Then that perspective shifts again for you both..and you sync up.
That’s more than love…that’s a mystery and its beautiful….:)

The Stars




Oh short life, that I wish were longer, lift  me up to the stars so that I may float among them and touch them with shy fingertips as I gradually get to know them all intimately like a father meeting his estranged child for the first time after eons of separation and forced expulsion. A lesson had to be learned before I could return to the stars….a lesson deep and longing …personal and reflective for each that finally find their final resting place to call home….