Tag Archives: poem

Fighting Me


I’m just fine
I’m just great
I have everything
A love, a home, a dog, a cat.
A job, a friend or two or three.
So why do I wish to punch a wall
Inflict pain upon the
inanimate.
Melancholy, anger, anxiety, and loathing
climb over me amidst
my calm.
Consuming in the oddest moments
of my day.
And Nothing can reach me
not even me.
For that Me is hidden high on a mountain
far, far away from my shadow
which walks in the light
with everyone else
occasionally staring up
wondering when I will come down.
But the Me up there knows
no one really what’s to see.
Not really.
Everyone else has blinded
themselves,
so how could they ever truly
see Me.

by Philip Wardlow 2018
(character study in poem form for a Book I’m writing)

Adrift


Where waves once gently lapped
now they churn
and pound
relentless.

Once anchored,
now moorings torn
dragged out to sea
all now adrift.

Rising phasing fickled moon
taunts like a schoolyard bully
cold and biting
as it sinks away with the
promised sun,
and its burdensome
loathing gonging heat.

Just an insignificant bobber
afloat,
Eyes staring at the nothing and inward
universe, wondering at the why
of it all, and the wanderings
we seek when the world calls.

Fish nibble at toes,
Tasting,
Sharks circle,
Waiting
For the final death throws,
for most like an easy
meal under an early
morning light.

Delirium
brings a dark, dark,
silhouette
against a lit azure sky.
Pulling…tugging
…breathing life…commanding a body and mind
long past dead to
to snap back to resolution.

Blackness enfolds,
Awake,
softness holding
in a quiet room abiding
of the whitest white
With distant shore finally reached.
As a gentle lapping at the shore
comes to finally an open ear
ready to finally hear.

A new way of life.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Desire for You


It’s everything,
this desire for you.
Warmth pervading,
breath catching,
a tight tension of need
to be close.
Cashmere has nothing on the softness
of your pale skin as
two fingertips trace
lines from out to inner
thighs.
Your hips fill my hands all the
while your sweet cinnamon
smell wraps around, clutching,
drawing me in closer
to delve the depths
of you, in all the secret
tastes you offer
your only lover,
me.
So you better know
this desire for you tonight
shall not go to waste.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2018

The Good Stuff


When did the world
forget the good stuff
Or did it ever truly know it?
To appreciate the day simply
because it was there
For ya.
Spread out like a field full of dandelions waiting to be lazy with.
Catching that breeze through
swaying trees
Noticing that Miss dressed
In her summer dress
Walking down the street past ya.
having an ice cream cone on a whim
just cuz she could.
Futures aren’t promised
This day.
This day,
Is the good stuff
The best stuff
You will ever see.21555963.gif

Reaching Her


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Some days are often dreams
she wakes from,
half remembered.
Perhaps best
forgotten.
Tears are given,
gravity catching,
taken by a lover far below
the sheer cliff she sits.
He climbs to her,
tears clutched tight
Ever ascending
Slow, ponderously,
Inch
by
Inch
By
Inch
He is a patient man
looking up,
giving her a full
loving smile
There is no other
place he’d rather be
For the view is
spectacular below
and above
to the girl
he’s trying to
reach.

By Philip Wardlow

 

 

Know thyself


Thoughts flit
through
Confused.
Just yet another
challenge in my
mind’s eye
at the ludicrious way
we look at life
and our singlular place in it
Like we are everything or nothing
to each other with no stratum
of between.
I am perfectly flawed
as are they all.
Feeling special is transient
Go. stop. get off.
Get on. Go. stop. get off
Repeat.
I know I will never be enough
and that’s more than fine
For who wants to be all
to anyone.
It’s a burden I can’t carry
yet its still a desire to
try at times.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Bohemian Driving Vibes


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My hand is on the wheel, foot on the gas
Going fast fast fast
You’re my fifth gear,
my forward
My flash through the streets
As I’m holding your hand tight
smiling at the speed that
life careens us past
Laughing, loving, and challenging
all the curves.
You’re my girl, my forever future
The woman I call mine
And you know I’m all yours
Pedal to the floor…
So roll down that window and
Let me see that long red hair flying
free down the avenue
Cuz No worries gonna
Find us at the speed
We’re going
No problems gonna
Catch the two of
Us as you sit next to
Me as we coast
The day away
So lean in and give me
That sweet kiss
And we’ll
Let the dust kick up
Behind us
Leaving it all gone
to be lost
Without a care
In a thing called
When.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Fickle Thing


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Many of my days are good,
rich, full to overflowing
Abundant with love
Buckets sloshing
Passions pulsing
Ever sure, ever wanting,
ever taking of it all
Smiling from the inside
to the out
And I fall to sleep
Cradled in the knowing
Of my perfect world
Right in all its imaginings
Other days, like seeming
clockwork sneak in
To toil, to tire, to pull,
to question me at the what
Of It all.
Waves high overhead crash into me
And I can’t seem to remove myself from this tumultuous beach, to simply
Step back from this seething shore in me and just fucking relax
Give me that! I yell at the darkness
Give me that! Eyes open challenging all
my stupid, blundering thoughts
Head on pillow looking up
At nothing
with fickle sleep not wanting
to come.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

 

 

In Need of


I don’t want to need
for it physically hurts
to need YOU, yet
I want to need you
all the time
Because all of YOU
is never enough.
Fearing the heights,
I walk a tightrope to your kiss
And fall into the netting below after.
Safe, embraced
Still.
Still safe.
Looking up at you precariously perched.
And Me
With intentions to already climb
Up that long ladder once again
For your sweet lips

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Expressing


sleeper (1)

I thought she knew
I wanted her close
Felt it, as I held her
in the night
But when she left
I couldn’t summon
the words for her to stay
because rejection
ran too deep In me
Not trusting my actions and desires
had always been a problem I
thought finally dissolved away
This culprit in many of my undoings
made me believe
I never was in the right
So belief in myself
In what I really mean to you
Is elusive at times
Always that fear of losing
Of pushing you away
By saying too much or not enough
So expressing needs, wants, desires
Has become a small wall
In me.
We fool ourselves at believing
others see us, should see us,
But we are all masters at not
showing certain self truths so well
that we get in the way of
everything that life might
offer us as real and good and
end up with nothing.

By Philip Wardlow 2018