Tag Archives: nature

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

What say you?

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hike

 

Wee moments stuck in thought

stuck in the thought

of too many thoughts.

Where does life go when you let it go?

Does it strap on sneakers and have a run.

Not caring the road its on.

Well I  care for scenic, something with  a view,

a journey,

challenging but not reckless or cruel

to the soles of my shoes.

Mountains peaked, craggy and windswept,

leading to dreamy sittings on precarious ledge,

fertile valleys , dark and deep, muddy and froggy with

all the chirps and burps to be offered in the sun

either draped in shade, or tinkled on

by a rainy day.

What say you?

What do you really say?

As you crouch upon your porch

seeing the world run away?

Ah, you have no sneakers?

A poor excuse.

Grab your slippers, or those

old flip flops.

And simply start out for a little walk.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Landscapes of You

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Landscape

Landscapes of You

As I rise at dawn

and look out upon this landscape

It’s got nothing on you babe.

The mountains can’t touch your heights which I climb

In the morning light and the fertile valley

below is where I’ll go to set up my campfire

and have a weeny roast every night.

Let me fall down hard against your snowy soft skin and make

snow angels with my tongue as I go deep in.

The rivers and streams that meander around me can’t

get any wetter than your bed as I lie at your shore .

Maybe I’ll take a swim in your deep lake and paddle

down to the waterfall where I hear it’s a gusher.

The field of you lays lush and fragrant with undulating

colors of flowering pink and red peonies swaying

enticingly before me as you gyrate those hips below,

stirring the four winds to blow

me away off this wind swept peak

that I cling to with barely a fingertip.

I’ve packed lots of rations, trail mix, water and

peanut butter cups to keep my energy up.

My hike is not over by far, because I’ve got many trails to cover.

I can’t leave any one spot untouched or ignored,

The beauty of this mysterious place I call

paradise must be explored.

The smell of clover and dandelions pervade my senses

as I drink your sweet scent in.

The nearness of you is nature in its most erotic essence

bottled in the pores of

your skin.

By Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Being Human – A Poem

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Being Human-

 

I am confused but not confused

I have clarity

In all things

But I am muddled

In all things big

That really

Matter

And what matters?

Really?

You say THAT matters

He says THIS matters.

She says I matter.

We say WE matter.

When no one does

And everyone should.

Ping…..PONG!

Bounce…Bounce….Bounce

Mr. Ball.

And get struck hard with the paddle

Back to the other side

WHAT?

YOU cannot hide

Because that paddles a coming

SMACK!

So….Just…Well…Um…Okay.

That about sums

us up.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2014LettingGoFreeFall

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Three Poem Series about our Natures

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Desolate Dame

 

You give him a grin

and forget it all when he

grabs a breast.

He smiles that same stellar smile

that trapped you so long

ago.

You sweat it all out through sexual labors

and forget…

all the moments meandering

constant

in the frontal lobe of your brain that aches

to cut him loose and send him downstream

to go cascading off a cliff.

Yet you play the martyr to his Mussolini,

tied up and tortured in the town square,

while all the passerby’s look the other way.

Weakness

Doesn’t become you.

Defiance should rule.

But yet you grin all over again

when he grabs your breast.

Philip Wardlow 2013

Lazy Days

 

 Orb bright over head,

Naked we lay…tanning.

 

I kiddingly ask if I can lay the palm

of my hand on your ass

and just leave it there.

 

I tell you casually while the sun bakes us,

that we have about another 100,000 yrs

of evolution to go before we stop believing

the bullshit we speak now.

 

Dark clouds move in  as old Mr. Nimbus blows.

A storm is coming…hopefully it only

blows away the shit we don’t need in

our lives.

 

Sorry babe…

Feeling melancholy again I guess.

 

I get lost in the fantasy, because the reality of it all,

is so much different than we suppose.

 

Fantasy….Reality?  Each one has its place.

Haven’t  decided which of the two is

stranger yet.

 

We grab our towels as old Mr. Nimbus spits on us

and go inside to have nice a cold beer .

 

Philip Wardlow 2013

KISA Syndrome

 

“Why ME?”  she asks

I don’t know.

Because you let me in.

Because you’re a good person.

Beautiful,

Intelligent,

Passionate,

But most of all because you’re so full of despair.

…and I have a sword.

Philip Wardlow 2013

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Above three poems originally featured in an online publication called Boyslut – http://boyslutpublications.com/