Tag Archives: poem

Tag I’m it…Wish to see into my mind? Well, here’s your chance with a little Q & A


tag-youre-it1Na na …na na na…I’m it!

A fellow blogger of mine, whom I follow and who follows me , over at Lily Wight The Arcade of Arts, tagged me and few others to answer some questions.  I guess am it.  These questions below were presented to me to answer as I see fit…perhaps you will get to know me a little better afterwards:

Q.  Have you ever been obsoleted from your job and how did you feel about it?

I will say no. I have struggled and crawled my way into my position at my job and they can’t live with out me. Now, they come to the almighty Philip and wait on my every word. (Sure they do)

SONY DSCQ.  What is your favorite board game and why?

I loved the Electronic Based Board Game Dark Tower and I miss it till this day because mine broke awhile back and they no longer sell it anymore. It was the coolest board game hands down…it was way ahead of its time and still is for a board game…Monopoly has nothing on it. Pah! I spit on your grave Monopoly.

Q.  When you look at the stars, what do you see?

I see a beautiful mystery &  potential adventure . So much potential if we only play our cards right as a planet.

Q. When you look at the ocean, what does it remind you of?

Lost stories of civilizations come and gone along with a hidden world as vast as space.

Q.  How do you overcome writer’s block?

Well, first I call it less a writer’s block and more a writer’s quicksand.  Sometimes, I stop what  I’m trying to write and stretch my brain on something else, like poetry, or I’ll blog, or a really good movie. Basically, I shift gears to something else for a bit then shift over to what got me stuck in the muck in the first place. Usually, that helps me drive through it till I hit the next bog in the road again.

Q.  If you could say 3 encouraging things to another person, what would they be?

That it’s never too late.  That doing something starts with actually trying to do it,   and that if you make a mistake don’t beat yourself up over it, learn from it and move on.

Q.  Do you prefer to write your stories/books/poetry/prose/articles on paper first, then type them upWriting and edit them, or do you like to type them straight into your computer to edit?

I used to be all over the board, but I find I do like to write my poetry on paper first  and refine it later on the computer. I will tend to scribble a few memo like notes of story ideas in a notebook and  then take that to the computer  to start the full blown story.

Q.  Do you like writing in one genre or more?

I like to mainly write urban  fantasy with a slightly dark aspect to it. I like to take a miserable character and bring the best out of them in that setting. I can apply that same theme through horror, or science fiction stories which I like to write as well sometimes.

Q.  As a writer, do you think actions speak louder than words?

I think its a combination of both juxtaposed in a nice balancing act that brings out the best in your story and characters.

Q.  What is your favorite quote and why?

Heard this  from a friend who quoted Henry David Thoreau –  “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”  –  I found that line comforting in regards to my struggles with my writing and in my life.

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Take your Luck – A poem by Philip Wardlow


Shut the hell up cuz you got luck
so take it and run with it.

The suitcase I carry isn’t full
of the…
horseshoes,shamrocks,
or Maneki-neko lucky cats.
It’s got more of the broken bits
of mirrors that I have collected
over the years or the dead black
cats that have called it home…

Sure your pain is yours,
own it…I don’t care,
but don’t ever think it compares
to my level of despair.
Don’t whine and don’t bitch while
your lucky number seven sits on your
back and lifts you up while my
thirteen has been nothing but mean
to me, bringing me down to depths
that hell can’t even see.

I have my magpie of sorrow
who talks to me often…he thinks
it a joke to lead to me believing
that the world works at times.

But I do care for the lucky ones, so
don’t let him catch your eye.

Take your luck and run with it,

and maybe just maybe you won’t
end up with the same luck as me.

By Philip Wardlow  2012

bad luck1

Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow


Happy Accident

Everything and anything

could have been that day,

yet I was there sitting in that place,

in that small little space,

in that time, that moment

plucked with you in

mind.

A hello, a smile, a small question

to catch my eye.

 My attention never wavered…as something,

yes something…told me

there was more  to this meeting,

more…

than just

the  casual.

You were my Happy Accident

if I only chose

to embrace it.

by Philip Wardlow 2013

Blue Balls of Gentleman – A Poem…(did this happen to me? – I’m not telling)


 

BlueBall

Blue Balls of a Gentleman

Never was a pain so great
as to leave a man almost
doubled over as he walked.

Such a foul wretch of a woman
she was; to taunt and to flaunt
her wares so, to sidle up alongside me,
yet hold back her ultimate
charms.

Never to help me find release
from the tension that she had
caused to exist far below.

True, I could have taken matters into my
own hands like any chaste man should have;
evacuate the cause of all my pent up
pressure and damn her back to the nine hells
where she surely belonged.

But I be not a man to take the easy course;
for I wished her to capitulate in the war
she had waged right outside my castle gate.

Cease this siege woman!

Acquiesce to the desires that I see burning
in your eyes and overcome your coolness
buried deep in your cold keep of a heart.

Grab hold of what you desperately
wish to conquer and I shall relinquish
myself to you with a flood of gratitude.

Perhaps dear lady you will grow
accustomed to my sweet taste.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

What a woman wants – A poem by Don Juan aka Me :)


What a Woman Wants

She walks on by in her tight skirt,
as my brown eyes drink her in and
I say to myself, so it begans.

She smiles and I smile back,
I say hello in a way so she knows that
she matters in this moment to me.

I’m in engaged in her form, her voice.
Her smell of cinnamon must surely
taste like her lips if I were to kiss them.

I make you laugh as I tell you you’re the
sweetest girl I‘ve ever met and that I might just have
to take you home and put you on my toast in the morning
instead of my blackberry jam.

Would I be too forward if I took you by the hand

and looked into your eyes and told you to trust
me with  your whole heart as I wiped
away a tear from the tale you told
me of your last man.

You see, I see you.
I get you, I see your quirks,
I see your moods, I see your passions
and I’m right there baby

Right next to you and I’m
not going anywhere

Now come over here
and let me show you
what love is my
Dear.

by Philip Wardlow 2012

I suppose – Random thoughts put to prose


I suppose
Closed

Life goes and goes…and nobody knows truly why….you can tell me you truly know…and I will nod my head and say yeah, I suppose, and not seek to dismiss cuz I’m like that – to each their own – …but deep inside I’m still surmising, guessing, hoping…I do believe there is some purpose to this space and time that we occupy. But could that be the secret? That we apply a purpose to begin with.  Whatever the case, I believe Will, Desire and Intention have a power all their own..so we will see when all the lights are turned off and the door is finally locked tight and the sign is finally hung….what mysteries may await us after closing time.  By Philip Wardlow

Cruel Master – A Poem


Grasping_Heart_by_Aevinum

Cruel Master

I have no opinions of which you would care to hear;

for the heart is a cruel master which binds you tight.

Cry out and you will only get more of the same I’m sure;

another beating to send you back into the corner whimpering.

So I slink around the edges of your eyes and live

in the shadows of the moods you cast.

And hope that you never see I am slowly

poisoning the master you have come to

love.

So one day you will be free.

by Philip Wardlow 2013

THREE Poems from my younger years – by Philip Wardlow


Marathon

AT THE MARATHON (GAS STATION)

 AT  THE MARATHON .

CHEWING BUBBLE GUM

MY FORTUNE SAYS I’LL BE ENVIED

BY EVERYONE.

AT THE MARATHON

CHEWING BUBBLEGUM

SITTING AT THE MARATHON

WAITING FOR A FRIEND TO COME

AT THE MARATHON.

WHO’D ENVY ME?

THE ONE WHO OWNS A BROKEN CAR.

AT THE MARATHON

WHO’D ENVY ME

THE ONE WITH A BROKEN HEART

AT THE MARATHON

THE NIGHT IS GETTING COLDER

AS THE CARS DRIVE BY.

AS I CHEW MY BUBBLEGUM.

WHO’D ENVY ME?

AT THE MARATHON.

By Philip Wardlow 1989

(PS.  And yes I sadly had just broken up with long term girlfriend at the time n my teenage years)

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chained-feet

A Brother Far Away

Stomp Clomp Stomp Clomp

Marched the Family of elephants

As they trod the dusty distance

To the watering hole.

A brother far away

Hears the tink chink tink chink of steel  against steel

to announce the arrival of the Big Top to town

A tenderly nudge of a mother’s

Trunk gently directs her curious baby back on

Course.

Brother feels the pokes and prods of the steel

Tipped hook as it lashes out at him when he makes a

Misstep.

The chuckling of the hyenas and the

roaring of the lions nearby incite

The lead elephant to bellow a warning

to keep away.

Brother hears the hoots and hollers of the crowd

Behind the dark circus tent as the lion’s cage  lumbers by

with the great beast still asleep inside.

A west wind blows pushing through the plains , flowing over

The feather dusted clouds encasing the moon which hangs like a

Fluorescent white pearl over the watering hole.

Brother dips his trunk into the bucket and

Comes up with the last drink to be offered that night as he

Strains at the shackles to get a glimpse at the moon.

By Philip Wardlow 1995

something

Nothing & Something?

Nothing

That’s what I feel like sometimes

Nothing

Nothing, nowhere, no how.

When I see sunsets casting purple hues and

pinkish wisps set in a bowl of vibrant golden orange,

It always reminds me that I’m nothing

And something

A nighttime sky, filled to bursting with a voluminous moon

And a menagerie of stars and planets spinning and coalescing in a

Constant rhythm we can’t begin to see. That’s when I feel like

Nothing

And something

A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl who didn’t know I existed until

today,  soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting. Nothing exists, not even

me.

And yet something…

Clues and misdirection, blind alleys and thorough fares, leads me by a

Leash to nowhere

Yet somewhere will be the end when the journey’s through

I am humbled at times but at others

I am petulant.

I am tired of feeling like nothing

Something sounds good

By Philip Wardlow 1996

Haiku Collection I – by Philip Wardlow


Haiku Collection 1

Love-Eyes-Crying

Drive By

 Her car sped by mine

My pleasant day fell apart

Tears in her eyes hurt.

marilyne-monroe

Little Blonde Girl

 Little blonde girl laughs.

Jumps, smiles, eyes wide with wonder

Innocence still found.

Dark-Red-Sunset

Dark Sun

Dark sun goes down fast

Warmth never there, fades away

Into the night glow.

DoorSlam

You never know

 Holes punched in the wall,

Door slams, tires screech away.

You never know pain.

spin-the-bottle3

The Bottle Spins

I place the bottle.

It spins as her eyes grow wide.

Fortune favors me.

Pulled – A poem


Pulledlittlegirl

A little girl stands with arms open wide.

How must it feel to be the rope in a

game of tug-o-war?

Win or lose, it’s all the same,

the pain of strained muscles

and sinew running down to the core;

almost ripping.

Braided rope is much stronger than a little’s

girl mind or her soul that must hold to a

reality that slowly unwinds.

Her psyche is soft and pliable and will

if pulled, stretched, and thinned out

to nary a whisper of herself,  will

harden in the cold stale air and become

brittle and slowly break away in pieces for

all her days to come.

By Philip Wardlow 2012