Head to chest
she lays upon him
his heart beats..loud and clear
in her ear.
Strong hands idly rub her soft skin
in an embrace
of familiar affection.
Skin to skin.,
warmth projects
from within to without
and commingles.
A comfort.
A contentment
that cannot be contrived
or bought.
It simply is in that moment
what it is,
a deep snuggle and
a small world
all her own
with him.
By Philip Wardlow
Kissing~
Soft but insistent…
mirroring , playful yet sensual ,
wet, probing and tasting with tongue
just ever so lightly…
heated and wanting…
pheromones and testosterone exchanged in the mingling of saliva
exciting synapses
and releasing of endorphins…
ah yes…a Kiss
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Warrior Woman ~
Ah yes, she be a beauty…
never a finer woman did grace the land.
From the tip of the toes to the top of that pretty little head.
Ah yes, she be beautiful indeed.
But you would be mistaken my good sir at trying to take advantage of one such as her
whether in body, mind or soul, as she would send all three of yours straight to hell for the
devil to collect his due.
Flaming red be the color of her hair, burning much like her heart that beats in a warm bosom that knows no peace, nor solace in the silence between the madness that is always sure to come after.
Every turn of her blade is poetry…every dance a death sentence to her partner.
Care to be clever, to compel her to be contrite, or woo her with wicked words
and she shall simply cut your tongue out.
Yet, she hopes, endures for that day, when a compliment to her nature crosses her well worn path, fights through all her misgivings, deep protected fears, and wrestles her to the ground, flings her blade from her hand and drives the darkness away.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Stockings.
They are to me what the Eiffel tower
is to France.
An elegant woman
a beauty,
a romance to find on every street corner,
an adventure to be discovered and sought.
Decadence pervades its corners and its twists and turns
as the night encapsulates deeds not seen
during the day.
All eyes look to the tower, shining.
As do mine to the sheer fabric
that rides over your toes, ankles, up calves
over knees, and thighs….ah to perhaps stop there
if we dare…
Yet some go further still,
Over buttocks and hips
to complete the curved picture all nicely framed.
Seams sometimes ride along her back plane
perhaps Cuban, Havana, Point, or the Manhattan
to name a few.
Whatever the style, all lines travel to that
same heavenly place where man presumes
to travel to get a better view.
I am partial to black, stopping just at mid-thigh
secured snugly with a nice laced garter.
But whether nude, or white, cream colored,
or villainous red.
A stocking, is a stocking, is a stocking my friend.
Try but once to not look upon the tower
as your eyes draw near.
Sooner cut out your eyes to cause the
brain to go against what nature intended.
Her form is a beacon to every breath that you breathe
Her form is a work of art artfully adorned.
Take a look, drink her in.
Smile inwardly, fall from her heights
and know with her and those
stockings you never stood a chance
of escape.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Cute as a Button ~
She is cute as a button but that button is sewed onto the dark lapels of the devil
She’s a handful, a handful of hurt with a side of outrageousness
spilling over onto the floor and making a hell of a mess
for me to clean up.
Cheeky smiling girl,
Oh, what a monkey you are…
Come down from that fucking tree, you are much
too high and the wind is howling
and the bough is ready to break.
Miss dangerous. A big red light blinking.
But would I take her any other way?
That corner, that question mark, that hill
I want to turn it each time, see the answer revealed
and the top to be reached.
She’s cute as a wicked little button
could ever be.
by Philip Wardlow
Nothing Spectacular~
She told me she was nothing spectacular
Not special
Hmm..
How could that be.
How Indeed.
For I see nothing but a little beautiful light
Shining
Soooooooooooo brightly
Yet, she takes her little hand
and dims down
down
down
down
Click…til its off.
I don’t mind clicking it back on.
CLICK
but it gets rather tiresome
I fucking need to steal that knob after
I have turned it back on
For she captivates
and draws everyone like a moth
to that little blue electric light
Bzz
Bzz
Ah you killed another one.
but they couldn’t handle your heat
SO
Move on…:)
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Beauty Defined ~
If you were to ask me to define what beauty is, I would first pause in my thinking, lose focus to the world and go inward and remember all the instances that touched….held me…..affected me….or drew me in where I had no choice but to be in that moment with it.
I then would ask you the same question and for you to go inward as well.
Then I would ask you of all the instances you remember and I would tell you of mine. And we would share them.
Then in that instant another beautiful moment would be born.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
That Kind of Beauty ~
She’s beautiful,
that fun kind of beauty.
The kind of beauty that drags you laughing by her side
Electric, a 9-volt battery to the tongue.
Blonde, brunette, or redhead who cares what fucking color
for she brings them all out in you.
How can you refuse
that kind of pulse
that finds your own.
That sync,
And sweet unsuspecting syncopation
to a spirit you desperately want
to get to know.
That kind of beauty
needs to be explored.
So stop.
Hear her heart
Shut out the noise
Take her hand.
and just let
her be.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
If I were to become a star
upon my death.
Let me shine bright
just for you.
On those cold winter nights
when the sky is clear
as glass.
Let my
warmth seep into you.
Feel me across
that dark distance
fill you with a bit
of me.
My energy will
always be bound
to you.
Always.
Roll the Dice ~
Dice,
Falling,
Gravity pulls
I threw them in the air,
now they must land somewhere.
On the table, they do a dance,
Rolling, tumbling, spinning,
so many combinations
could come.
No skill required at the outcome.
But my intent is everything.
For I picked up those dice
from that table
while all the rest just stared,
drink in hand,
in a perpetual daze.
Waiting.
Time slows, stretching out like taffy
pips tease then disappear
to taste a different future
as corners turn and angles
fly in a latticework of physics,
a mysterious inertial
balancing act.
In favor or against
In favor or against.
Fate, a whim or not?
Fate is a fickle bitch.
But I will get into
bed and roll with her in the sheets
anyway.
by Philip Wardlow 2015
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Health, Reflection, and Poetry for the Journey of Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Health, Reflection, and Poetry for the Journey of Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 