Tag Archives: poem

Chaos also dances


Chaos also dances~

 

Angels may dance on the head of a pin

but no one  has ever told you that their partners

called Chaos are dressed in drab coats

disheveled and dirty with drink in hand, barely

able to stand as they try to keep up with the music.

They fling obscenities to the wind, raucous and rank.

Who invited them to this dance?

Did they come of their own volition or did they

receive in the mail  a nagging invitation,

with promise of delicious Hor D’oeuvres served on

a golden plate to soothe a palate knowing only

seeming hate.

There is only so much room on this floor.

Only so much of  this crowd that this world

can allow.

This pushing, this jostling, as elbows fly.

So, I shall take my drink and withdraw to

the balcony, stepping into the

cool night air.

And toast the moon and the stars, wishing I was

anywhere but here.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Message in a Bottle Received


messagebottleheader

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a hundred bottles or more

that had been cast out to sea,

an answer finally washed upon my shore

one morn much to my chagrin.

For you see, it simply read,

“Stop littering the seas with your sad and woeful pitiful pleas,

and just leave us be you little fucker! Leave us be!”

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

Hug me


hugs
Artwork by Christian Ward

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hug Me~

 

A woman will always want  a hug more than a man

but a man will always need a hug more than a woman.

Neither knows why.

She will want his presence close; his arms and his heart.

In that very moment as he embraces,

he will be her harbor for all the days

that he holds her.

He will need her light and the one

she sees in him when he cannot.

Through that embrace, her light will envelop

him and strengthen him for all his days

to come.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haikus of the Sword


One Breath~SwordB

One breath forming calm

Eyes tight on adversary

Bound energy flies

 

 

 

 

Beguiling Death~SwordC

Dragonfly wings cut

Up, down, left, right superbly

Entrancing your death

 

 

 

Young Sword~YoungSword

Childish eyes unveiled

as a keen blade drawn for blood

Fire heart goes cold.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Nothing…yet Something


 

 

Milkyway

 

Nothing,

that’s what I feel like sometimes;

Nothing.

Nothing, no where, no how

as

I see a distant sun of vibrant gold

cradled in a bowl of purple and pink

on a horizon I imagine I will never reach,

It reminds me that I’m Nothing

and yet Something to even to be allowed

to see.

A nighttime sky, filled to bursting

with a voluminous marble of a moon

within a black bag of stars I can’t begin to sift through.

Yet I do, and that Something feels cool

on fingertips never finding purchase.

I know Life is a tangled sphere of yarn

wrapped around an onion

spinning and dancing in

an ordered rhythm with other crying onions

as they bump butts.

Nothing and Something,

A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl,

yet readily given by her, for I am no thief;

soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting.

Nothing exists, not even

me in that moment,

and yet Something.

Clues and misdirection, blind alleys

and closed thoroughfares,

leashed to Nowhere.

Yet Somewhere will be the end when

the journey’s through

Humbled and awed

but at other times

petulant and angry.

I stomp my foot inside my soul.

I am tired of feeling like Nothing

Something sounds good.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

The many flavors of little girl/boy lost


 

Foot

Therapists say the core of us, from the defining moments of our youth, make up a great part of how we see ours lives throughout our whole existence through and into  our growing “adulthood”  until the day we die.

We all walk a path, and that path we walk  sprung up to meet us whether we know it or not. Some have found that magical path and place among the trees where they know peace and a solid foundation under their feet as they tread a world still alien.

Most are not so fortunate whether you think they are or not.

Some of us walk it in seeming surety, with one foot right after the other; having all the answers to life at our lips and the tips of fingertips based on what came before.  Those types outright scoff at times at those who don’t know all the answers or have it all together.  They can truly be arrogant bastards; ridiculing the “underclassmen”  saying they will never catch up.

((Secretly)) they know they do not know everything;  no matter what they say. I have to imagine, that need in itself, to have to be sure all the time; it must drive them mad when their world falls apart at not knowing the answers when push comes to shove in their lives.

I truly do feel sorry for some of them.  For I do believe that type of arrogance is needed in the world to get things done. Else many of us would be sitting on our hands saying woe is me and nothing else. But these types must pay the price at times when the chaos finds them in their own mind.  For no one must see them weak you know.

Others  of us walk in a  meandering, stumbling,  almost drunken course down a  path where our footing is anything but sure.   Always needing that tree to lean on,  or that bush off the road to vomit up our urges and failings behind.

Yet, still they walk, for their is a determination in their lives that drives their legs into motion. They are not comatose. They are not in a vegetative state. They breath, they exhale, and they bring in life and let it out in small amounts.  They evolve in their own course;  through the volitions of some inner or external force which they cannot place,  but it drives them, much like the arrogant ones above, that have already embraced a reality and be damned to anyone who stand in their way.

What else can they do in life but to try?  And besides, they can’t look weak ; not to the  arrogant ones that depend on them to prop them up from time to time when they speak.

Finally, there is that brow beaten soul. That lower than low. The one that goes home to sleep and sleep and dream and dream until the day has disappeared and night encapsulates and settles the debate of who has won that day,  life or him or her.

They will not choose to try again the next day nor the next.  Woe are they, to not even attempt. For that voice that once shouted has been muffled and thrown into a cage of the finest steel made.  Never to be let out, never to be fed or watered, but instead to let whither and die in a lonely cage bound with a strength they gave away.

All because they believed they reached some end.  Some place in their  life they could not rectify, or redeem. Never realizing life is impartial, life goes on.  So go on, life says go on, and don’t be afraid to look weak and go on.

Be that person you lied to yourself about that you told you could not be. This is a lesson for all three of you who walk the path you think you should.

See…the path before you.  Just let yourself  simply really truly see.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wee hours of the Night –


Jeans pulled down to her ankles…Hours
Knees up
Thighs slightly parted
She thinks of him in the
wee hours of the night
as she touches lightly between
her legs.
The sweet spot where he wishes to go,
to live if only for a moment.
To take her like she wants to be taken
in her secret room
as she lies on her bed
To give him what he wants;
all of her.
She opens her legs wider
to let him take what he wants
she turns over and presents her
ass.
She wants all his gifts.
His hard slap on her is the sweetest
reward she could receive from him as
she pushes her ass upward
to meet each strike of his palm sooner.
She wants it so badly, as she lies in
his bed…
She calls out his name as
her fingers move inside herself
opening and filling her
as he would in the wee
hours of the night
if there.
Written by PhilipWardlow 2016

She Entered – Warning Erotic Content


She entered the room
wearing red devil lingerie
gave me a smile
and removed the halo from her
head
and hung it upon the bedpost
telling me it would just get in the way.

She pushed me into the chair
that sat across from the bed.
Lingering, she bent in for a
kiss but instead gave
a bite
Then went to her knees.
Lips hard pressed against my cock
still held trapped in my pants.
She blew hard
Hot breath filtered and conveyed
through denim
A furnace to rival my own
Eyes cast up
Hands deft
Zip
Cock exposed, unlocked.
Sly grin as she grabbed with both
hands,
stare she still did
right into me
Relishing each tiny fragment
of this intimate moment.
Step by Step
she walked through my mind
Knowing my need.
I give her hers as
a fistful of hair filled my hands
and forced her down.
Then I entered the scene
and tore into her.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Now


Embracing the fear
The thrill
The escape
Adrenaline rush
Skin warming
You
Your body
Wanted
Must have
Now
No waiting
Who’s watching
Who may watch
I dont fucking care
Just bend over
Now

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

Burn


fire_woman_effect_by_chaz

Let me learn you.
Let me take residence
in your mind
for the moment
and kick up my feet
next to the fireplace
inside of you.

Let me feed that fire,
stoke it…shift it,
sustain it as I warm myself.

What are the limits
you will climb to?
Will you burn the house down
to get to me?

Will you eat and eat like
a fire does.

Consuming everything
wanting more and more?

Go ahead.
For I will burn with you.

From deep red, to a pale yellow
to bright orange,
dancing and blinding
in the night.

I will burn with you
leaving nothing left
but ashes in the
end.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016