Tag Archives: poetry

In your Dreams


Let me close my eyes
and softly sink
into you,
my mind intertwininng,
weaving
amongst
your own tangledness.

I wish to sift through your dreams,
pushing away the debris
to see all the fallen wishes
and struck down desires.

I wish to ride the sorrowful
storms of a life stolen,
lost to the whims of the
Others, those demons
which rode you down and snatched
it all away,  laughing,
as if your pain
was just a game.

I want to see all of it,
each and every dream,
everyone,
witnessing it with you
in a tight embrace.

Holding you, I would whisper
that it will all
be alright,
For you are home now,
and your dreams are
safe for I hold them
as dearly as I hold
you now and until
the end of
all time.

by Philip Wardlow September 2020

The, I am Rights


I have met them,
The, I am Rights,
They give you a sidelong
glance and a chuckle
as you present
the realness
of you and of them,
of feelings simply
felt with no malice.

Yet they seem to be
able not to respond
with a kind word, but
they instead double down
in their derision.

It’s as if they have
already made up
their mind of what they
will say before you
ever uttered a word.

I am sorry the world
broke you.

I am sorry life can’t
be a perfect scenario.

I am not your keeper
I can’t heal what is
broken in you.
That’s on you.
I can listen though, I can learn
I can open my own heart
So I in turn can
see the rights and wrongs
of it all in your world
and you can perhaps see mine
too.

by Philip Wardlow – August 2020

What is meant to Be


 

 

She’s a fiery one,
that Red, a true warrior,
if there ever was one to grace
my path.

She carries with her a lighted voice
honed by a heavy, passionate
empathetic, mystical heart
pumping true,
so be wary
of her tongue
when directed at you,
best you go run and hide little man
while you still can.

She won’t say sorry
when she feels the truth
of a moment deep in
her bones,
but all the same
when they turn away
not seeing their own blame,
she will shed a tear,
for every battle for her
against those she loves
is always a loss.

Apathy, ignorance, and
a darkness
sinks deeps within many
a soul she might call
friend or family, and it’s a
cold, cold day
when she has to
bring that kinship
to its’
final end.

The backlash cuts deep
shoves her
moves her
to stay,
to do,
to be heard
to fight
to show the world that
you can’t shut her up
She will tell you what you
need to hear.

It was always meant to be so for her,
for she has always
been a Warrior.

by Philip Wardlow July , 2020

You think you have me all figured out


A man tells me he knows me,
has me all figured out.
He has got me all encapsulated
in a little box
Man, I don’t even know me,
so how do you?

So please just shut up
just shut the fuck up
Telling me I shouldn’t see color
Shit man, I can only be blind to color
once the world allows me to be blind to it.

I am black, I am a brown, I am white,
whatever shade you would like,
whatever hue, whatever tone,
please ascribe.
Define me, ridicule and deride me,
you will never know the true me
beneath my skin let alone
what’s in these old bones I call my home
because you haven’t held them
and walked in ’em
feeling the full weight
of ’em.
You haven’t begun
to figure me out
But you will one day
as will I.

by Philip Wardlow

May the Journey you Take


Let us all embark on an adventure in our lives,
no matter the fog that shrouds our path,
tread with eyes seeing, stalwart in nature,
as we find the lightness in
every rich discovery that
we may be lucky enough to unearth
on our grand journey
in the magical realm
called you.

by Philip Wardlow June, 2020

Clarity comes to Us All Eventually


Am I such a threat,
such a fear to you?
That my place in this world
must be abated and subdued?

Do you fear me less
when I articulate
myself better than you
or do you fear me
more, in certain circles,
because I am finally
on to you, and I know
just what to do,
to make it all
untangle.

You try and wrangle my words
and even my thoughts to
fit your disposition, as if
by smiling at me, it will cause
me to smile back
in submission.

First you blinded me,
then asked me why I was blind,
then stole the cane
from my hands, struck me, stripped me
then tripped me,
sending me on down the
road, to do my time.

Yet I endured, and even though blind,
I saw with a clarity
greater than the sighted man,
ever could
and came to pity him
and the thought processes
he called an enlightened mind.

Pitied him for the man he
thought he was.
Pitied him for the dark legacy
he had wrought
and the future
to come from it.

Pitied him that he would
never know a moments rest

Pitied him because anger was
all he knew.

Pitied him for the surety of
his place in this world
and at his disappointment
when his end finally came
and my tolerate
smile turned
into
a triumphant grin

by Philip Wardlow June 2020

The Dark Forest


dark-forest-water-artwork-wallpaper-preview

Jump in the river and let it carry you out of the dark forest you are in…

Who cares where it flows if you are already lost….

Fearing anything is inevitable,
so face it headlong at a dead
run.

I hear most outcomes cause
you to grow beyond what you
thought of as a once heeled truth,
allowing you to leave that dark forest
far behind,
as you continue
to flow on, and on, and on.

By Philip Wardlow May, 2020

 

 

I like the Way


I like the way
she casually calls me Darling
to get my attention
from across the room.
It makes me smile inside
in the nonchalant way
she shows her love for me.
I like the way
she trusts in me to protect her
in any instant,
Hand in mine, anytime;
on a dark street or
in a crowded room.
Even though it saddens me,
I like the way she says
she wants to go before me,
because she says she’s not strong
enough to see me go.
I like the way
we create together these
small places of paradise,
thrown like sand on the wind to drift and drift as we
waft in the hours, minutes, and
lazy seconds
of each other’s company
with no thought of tomorrow.
I simple like the
many ways of you
as I always have
since the very
start of us.
by Philip Wardlow  May , 2020

Skin Hunger


If you had told me I would have
yearned for a simple handshake,
months from now,
I would have scoffed at such a silly notion.

If you would had said a hug from
a loved one was a distant memory
and that only through dreaming in bed
at night could such an implausible embrace happen,
I would have laughed in your face.

No light touches, no manly shoulder to shoulder hugs,
no holding hands, no fist bumps,
no incidental brushing of skin against
skin in the everyday going on
of life.
None of that.

I am bereft and unaware of the warmth
or coldness of a cheek or simple palms of another,
stolen is the smile behind
a mask that might have touched my soul
as they looked my way in the incidental
happenings of a mere
day.

There is a gnawing
Deep
A pang
Inside
Screaming
A hunger
threatening to consume
To feel
To know
the innocent
intimate
touch
of another.

by Philip Wardlow, May 12th, 2020

You Evil Nipples *Graphic Content Warning


artistic-closeup-of-nude-woman-breast-black-and-white-sexy-body-awen-fine-art-prints

It’s a devious thing..this thing called the nipple…

Why does it point at me so, setting
as a bullseye to wanting,

To suck, pull, twist, lick, and kiss

What an evil, devilish fiend of a form which sets upon your already beautiful breasts that always
beckon the darkness in me.

Torturing you is easy when you point those things at my way with a ready smile,
Hands itch as I lick my lips wanting to take a nip on a nipple
with ready teeth.

I can’t control my actions
when I’m in close,
Fingers deep
Pulsing passions push me
to take those evil nipples and show
them a thing or two about playing
in pain.

I can’t help getting rock hard
when I have you well in hand

Twisting, pulling, and pinching

Blame your evil nipples for what I do to you,
for being fool enough to tempt a sadist like me

 

By Philip Wardlow April, 2020