Tag Archives: poetry

Finding her Hue


Hair a fire
cascades,
burning down to shoulders
bare.

Coy smile
seemingly innocent
but decadent
in desires running deep

I let her play the
victim to my victories
in her game
of dalliance.

Her mind is sharp,
keen is the blade
that is her tongue
which flicks
cutting through
my resolve.

Wickedly wonderful in her
need with a phrase or
two
at the sins she wishes
met upon her in bed

Angel eyes
wrapped in dark devil may care,
dare invitation.

And I dare…

Sweet pomegranate
Lips burst,
feeding my own, as my
lips stalk her body
slyly.

White alabaster
skin kissed with
the softness
of an innocent
doe, ache for my caress.

Voluptuous, sumptuous
hips play a rhythm
as my hands roam
to and fro.
Her beneath me
as I have now slipped
within.

And her world falls
away to that
secret place
only she knows

But I have a hint
of where she
goes.
In the way she curls
her toes.
When I cause
her world to flip
and transpose
to explode
in a vibrant
violent
calming
blue
fading
fading
dissolving
gradually into
all the hues
that ever were
of the color
blue.

Philip Wardlow 2018

My Ardor is Up


A delicate vulnerability
resides in her thighs,
with a resolve for action
in the utmost that
I dare not deny.
She’s a damsel in distress
but the dangers
in herself
and I’m in her,
and her sights
to hopefully
take it all away.
I see through everything
she once hid
Naked in body, now
naked in mind,
unmaking the made
up mess wrought,
undressing
a form long sought
hard by my hand,
addressing all
the numerous afflictions
unhealed
kissing each away,
bit by slow bit
I lay within
eye to eye
arousal acute
and my ardor
still
on the rise.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

When it comes upon me


There is nothing more
free than being
ME
There is nothing more to
life
than finding a
best friend in a
wife
There is nothing more than to have
those two things mingle
in an intense cacophony,
of a unique symphony.
And you just wade in
and swim.
Beautifully lost.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Carousel of Life


First,
You are originally packed,
innards carefully selected
for the long trip
Zipped up,
thrown into a trunk,
weighed and tagged
with declarations
nay or yea about the  status of your
being.
Then you are stuffed in
with the others,
in coldness,
while others may
sit in comfort, warm and secure.
You are very cold
so very cold
and its hard to breath
as you sit in an
unknown darkness
not knowing up from down
Abruptly,
ungentle hands throw
you about,
disoriented,
you tumble, fall and
are crushed,
to finally be dumped out into
the light
to traverse
around and around and around
walls flitting by, legs
and arms of non-distinct color
not wanted by you,
pick the
others
alongside you in
the endless revolving
journey.
Soon, you are the last one
on the turnstile
still circling and circling and circling
until you simply
stop
and wait for someone to pick you up
and you keep waiting
and Waiting
and Waiting
Waiting…

by Philip Wardlow 2018

See Me


We all at one time or two
sought the lingering approval
or watchful gaze of another,
be it from a fickle fan
adoring lover, or
sexual predator.
Everyone,
here or there
has drawn at the well of vanity
or emotional depravity.
Their mental cavities
within the mind
grinding away the days
in wanting to be seen,
be heard
be noticed
be exalted
a  desperate grab
at the grandiose
a fetish of an ultimately apathetic
world
which will simply move on
to the next shiny bauble
when it comes by
Flying
bye
bye
bye
as you whisper
“See me”

by Philip Wardlow 2018

The Solace of Us


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Pause,
be still
for there is solace in us,
we fools of love lost
now found.
Silent the raging of
the day,
for fortune
fills our cup
Sip
Sip
Sip it up
and
savor the flavor.
For you and I
are everything
that some might
deny in themselves
and wonder
at the end
of the day
why they ever did.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Desires of Red realized


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The ravaging of her
by me
is akin to a famished
man licking his plate clean,
then looking for more,
mouth open, and tongue tingling in anticipation
of feeding again on all the morsels
still not offered and hidden in
the closed secret cupboards of her that
are thrown open violently.
with a ravenous want
she heartedly
agrees in the taking of.

The thrill of her is
a fall of twelve thousand feet,
Plummeting, wind whipped by
a gravity of immense propositions
pulling me towards a
desirious body
that seeks my weight
to come crashing
into it,
only to  fall through and continue on
out the otherside
into her all over
again.
Forever falling.
Forever giving of everything
until our worlds
explode into
a thousand
times
a
thousand
colors
To slowly coalesce
into a calm
carressing
shade of vibrant
red
And a warm embrace.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

My Vows


As I take you in hand
I give you my heart
As I give you my heart
So do I give you my soul
to interweave with your own

I have long sought you
and in now finding you
knowing you,
feeling you,
loving you,
I am home.
Home like I have never
been in all my life.

I vow to always sustain you,
and lift you up in all the days, hours
and seconds left to us in this
life and hopefully beyond
this earthly boundary in
a heaven of our own making.

I vow to be faithful to our
friendship, and to always
be loyal in seeking understanding
of any your pains should they come
and to always share my own with you
in return, trusting in you
to understand as well.

I want to walk a shared path with you Maria,
through any trials, through any challenges,
through any storms,
hand in hand, held tightly
never letting go.

I vow want to sit with you watching
every sunrise and sunset offered to us
with smiles and much laughter.
Bright eyes, hugs, and most
of all with love.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Don’t know


download

Don’t know if I’ll
ever be able to show the world
what I see
Really see
Not a facsimile
Of ifs and buts
But of What’s
and Wherefores
And art thous
And
Not “I suppose If you think so”
Mentalities,
But maybe,
It
has to be that way
as its always been,
To be found guilty
By ignorance, history, and apathy
Your worth only
found after your long
gone in a
cold
cold
grave
when the writings
all done.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2018

The Rush comes not in Lazy Days


The rush comes not in the lazy days
where modicum rules the self,
and the mediocre distractions
gestates the soul,
feeding it the sweet
sugar it needs
to bloating,
instead it comes
in the quiet asides
in bed,
head to pillow
eyes up in darkness
flashing lightning like
self betrayals upon the
ceiling,
played out as a silent movie
in fits and starts
with no ending or
denouement.
It comes in the hectic
angry busy
same shit different day
hours of
needle piercing the skin
confrontations to
a life squandered
to the delusion
that the next corner
coming will
turn you to
find a
glorious parade
in your name
A name you never earned.
Nor fought for
but expected nonetheless.
So rush,
rush,
rush,
those
days when found to your liking,
for they are few and in between,
a mess of tangled
leavings that you
should have left far
behind
but sought to
carry,
making you
all the lazier
for it.


by Philip Wardlow 2018