Tag Archives: poem

Words of Discontentment – A poem


 

Words of Discontentment –Jester

I will just sit here and smile
like a marionette
with a painted on grin.

Shall that make you happy?

Nothing is wrong.
Seeeeeeeee….:)
I’m smiling just for you.
Aren’t I a good little boy?

Why should there ever be anything wrong?
Yes. Yes. Pat me on the head
All is fine in Whoville.
Why talk when
you can just
live in your own world of favored
opinions that works
just for you.

Judge me. Throw me away.
I have no friend.

I would hold your hand as you
walked through hell.

But you would kick me there
just to not be offended by
my presence you have already
deemed unworthy of your
company.

I guess I didn’t rate.
I guess the present I brought to
the party was found wanting
from the rest.

I guess I thought too much
of a friendship that was never
there.

by Philip Wardlow

 

 

I seek Elpis – A Poem


Kiersten Eve Eagan
Pandora’s Jar (yes a Jar…the Greek word “Pithos” was mistranslated to “Box” instead of the word “Jar” and it just stuck

I Seek Elpis –

 

The Spirit of Hope,  Elpis, flew,

last out of that Jar which Pandora had opened,

yet it flew.

Always playing catch up to the despair and destruction

the foul ones had left in their wake,

yet it came.

On gossamer wings of gold

to lit upon the fragile souls

earthly bound.

Diseased,  destitute, or almost dead,

Bereaved, broken, or branded.

It found them in the highest of heights

to the darkest holes or pitted caves.

Yet it found them.

Know that the foul ones who sap the will  are many.

Know that the foul ones who drive down the heart be strong.

Yet,  Elpis’ limits are limitless

when called to.

You simply have to seek it and

it will be appear.

 

by Philip Wardlow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A shot – A small Poem


 

shot-glass

A Shot-

I took a double shot of her,

downed her in one gulp at the bar,

smooth tasting …

then I placed the shot glass gently down and walked away…

 

by Philip Wardlow

Forces – A poem by Philip Wardlow


volcano_reitze_1280
Forces  –
The needle moves
ever so slightly
on the seismograph.
Tracing an outline on paper of a potential
with no timetable.
Tensions, Friction, and Pressures
are building,
As traces of you run through
the cracks and fissures of
my brain.
A low rumble not discernible by the naked ear emits
a pocket of trapped steam released from a
great depth.
Building, ever building.
Keep your distance,
it’s not safe to be so close.
to the summit.
For there is no telling when
I might explode.
By Philip Wardlow

The Fool’s fool – A poem


 

The Fool’s fool –

 

A knight has his squire…

The Sun it’s faithful Moon which follows.

He is not so simple,  so fluid of purpose

or scene.

He is a machination of fate

desperate and wanting.

A vain creature picking at scraps

thrown at him.

A soul dwelling

in a misery of his own undoing

while a golden bauble sits in his

very own pocket.

He is a fool’s fool

and his master would be

very proud.

By Philip Wardlow 2014

 

The_Fool_by_MarkWilkinson
The_Fool_by_MarkWilkinson

 

 

 

 

Punching Water – A poem


PunchingWater

Punching Water

If I had to describe  what  life was like

I would say it’s like punching water.

I flail with fists at this simple concoction of

wondrous matter with wild abandon.

Yet it feels no pain,  no emotion

Bruised knuckles connect to its surface

breaking the stream,

It simply cascades around my skin.

Surface tension,  caused by its bi-polar nature

reforms the flow after my useless flinging

of flesh has ceased.

My presence barely felt.

Strength is spent, muscles on fire,

breathing labored

I give up the fight

and  cup my hands to take a drink.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

hands-in-water

Advice to Poets – Three Quick Rules by Philip Wardlow


Poetry

I don’t mean to offend. But a lot of the poetry  out there sucks. I can freely admit that some of mine sucks lemon peels.

I can’t say I’m qualified to give advice to poets or would be poets. I have been writing poetry since I was in high school and have taken many creative writing and English courses regarding the subject. Still,  I think there are a lot better poets out in there in the word than me past and present. I am not going to get technical on you. But just give you three quick down and dirty lessons on the subject matter. From there  you can grow I believe to be a better poet.

I just know what I like to read as a poet and what I like to write as a poet. To me, when reading a poem, the subject matter is less important than how it is actually handled by the person writing it. You can take a great concept you wish to write a poem about;   be it love,  life, an adventure, or erotica and fuck it up quite easily.

I have read many blogs and I have read some very good poetry. On the flipside I have read some VERY bad poetry.  In those instances  I do not push the LIKE button or comment on the poem unless they wish a serious critique.

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Rule #1 –

Example:  I see the world flying from me , never to return,  why must I be denied., why oh why, it’s so unfair, this world that I live in.   I feel down and out. Woe is me oh woe is me.   I’m in such pain why oh why…blah blah blah

The biggest problem with BAD poetry  is that the Poem just rambles on and on with no clear resolution at the end.  Give me something I can grab on to. Some epiphany you learned, a realization of life, a CLEVER way of stating the obvious… and wrap it up…Don’t take 20 Lines to say the  same thing you could have said in 10 lines.

So Rule #1  Don’t  Ramble on and on with no Point and repeat the same thing twice.

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Rule#2 –

Example:  The night is cold,  and I feel very bold.   I love you so much and I miss your touch 

Secondly unless your a fifth grader and newly starting out in writing poetry…don’t rhyme just to rhyme. It makes me insane to read poetry where I can predict the words in every other next line. It’s like slow water torture for me. Basically do it when its appropriate.  When in doubt if you think it’s too much then be rest assured it probably is. And have you ever heard of alliteration and all the other forms of poetry writing,  as an alternate to the normal rhyme scheme? If not look them up. Get Educated,

 So Rule#2 Don’t Rhyme so damn much

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 Rule #3 –

 Example:  She/he  hurt me in that way.  Because I did that thing. And  I hurt.   The  pedantic ethereal winds kissed my cheek and I let out long sigh  as the rockslide engulfed my being that encapsulated you. (wtf!)

And lastly  I hate when you give me your direct feelings in vague ways or you explain an experience in a much too abstract or technical way.  both ways hide what you are really trying to get across and feel inside that head of yours. Sure YOU may be getting it out of YOUR system..but it  does nothing for ME the reader of your poem. So don’t be lazy and don’t hit us with super symbolism or the dictionary  of words hardly ever used by 90% of the English speaking community.

Rule #3 –  Don’t keep what you really wish to say a secret with vague or abstract writing. Still be creative but don’t hide behind the words.

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OKAY DONE with my lesson…now go out and play.

Uncurling Brightness – A Poem


BlueCurl

Uncurling Brightness –

She may call herself invisible.

But I see her.

Melancholy eyes with a reflective inquisitive smile

for those that deserve it.

Hands that wish to touch,

and be touched.

Lips that wish to kiss

and be cherished.

Silent resolve,

and practiced patience

bundled in a cocoon

of courage that never

leaves any doubt.

Only a fool would fail to love

her.

Only a fool would see

her as a fading spiral,

while I only see

an uncurling brightness.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Landscapes of You


Landscapes

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

All she Really Wants – A Poem


All she really wants –Sharing
She walks on silent
tip toe to my room
Enters without knocking.
and says nothing as she crawls
in with me beneath the covers.
She is naked and warm
as she lays alongside me.
I embrace her,
arm around her shoulders,
her head nestled in my neck.
One of her naked legs lies
between my own.
Her soft cheek upon my chest
as her hand wraps my  waist.
This is all she wants this night.
Nothing more. Skin to skin
Sharing the same warmth.
I hold her hand in mine
and we simply fall asleep.
by Philip Wardlow 2014