Tag Archives: poetry

Red in Repose


Marvelous images come to play
as I think on her in repose
delicate in tone, soft in the silence
of a shiftless day.

Anticipation at the potential
of where the scene may wander
fingertips upon bare skin,
exactly where they go inconsequential.

Rarely ever has a woman drawn me so,
this compulsion, this mad desire
to push down, open up and own
to ravage, losing all self control.

Incognito and veiled in nature,
angel eyes with the devil behind them,
Hands out imploringly
pushing away at the same time reaching.

Always I oblige her wanton needs
Fair skin, fair no more,
as hues of vibrant pink come to settle
showcasing my forceful violent deeds.

Red plays the game well,
known needs in hand
Her body building, mind reeling
as her broiling core begins to swell.

Overjoyed she is, too weeping,
sweet deathly spasms taking,
nails raking, her body shaking,
now all she seeks is to be sleeping.

Sorry my dear, your times not quite up
for I’m all  fire and fury
Hands roaming, lips tasting,
penetrating, with great intent to erupt

Easing back, I now tease
inch by slow inch, I either
advance or retreat
I own this body now completely.

Taunting curves upon curves
whether with a jest of a twist
a nip, or a bite, she knows
the rules must be served.

Tantalizing terrible is my attention,
for her nature darkly beckons
She exalts at her body being at my disposal
A mere toy to be used with conviction.

Open is her love for me,
expansive as an undulating ocean
I rise and I fall with her
Finally finding my own place of peace.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Contentment


Contentment, they say,
is synonymous with happiness,
satisfaction, fulfillment
and more;
more words of
peaceful denouement leading to seeming
roads of blissful ends.

Perhaps and perhaps not.
At the most I would pluck
“satisfaction” from that pile
of useless defining words that they
try to ascribe
to life
of whats and what nots.

Satisfaction at knowing
you tried your best,
and still failed at it all
in the end,
satisfaction that you don’t
give a damn to fight that
fight anymore
no matter how much they implore
that you should.

That you smile in satisfaction
at the day that greets you,
whether the weather
is bleak and cold
or
sunny and warm.
You appreciate the day
for just being the day
Here, now and forever
more.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Fuck ups


 

Men fuck up
Women fuck up
Fuck ups beget more
Fuck ups
Go ahead
Get on that bike and
Cycle through more
Fucking up
Skin a knee,
Break a heart raw
Cycle to you bleed out
all your fucking Up
Then
Find a hill and
Free fall
Legs out
Look ma, no hands
That ER visit gonna
look nice
You Fuck up.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Why don’t we


Why don’t we buy a house
and call it our home
Live in it til
we’re gray and old
and the toothless dog
can’t chew his bone.

Why don’t we just let go,
pour it all out,
the fears, worries, and woe
Flush the toilet
and watch the shit
spin away forever gone.
And if backs ups
we plunger that bitch
until it drains
away.

Why don’t we
stoke the fire,
pour a drink at the bar
pet the cat as it
curls up close.
and yes that was a
euphemism for sex
meaning, let’s get it on.

Why don’t we
trust in us.
In that wonderful thing called love,
know it’s forever
bought and sold
no returns
rip up the receipt,
the stores closed,
out of business,
torn down.

You are mine and I am
yours.
No take backs.
Sold.

By Philip Wardlow 2019

What Dreams may Come


 

One day I will know me,
where my dreams and fancies
meet my real reality,
where veils are lifted
and the stars cease
in their laughter
of me,
where seeming gods
big or small
give pause
and throw me a wink
and nod my way
as if to say,
you finally get
it son
you finally get
it, now move forward
and flourish.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

She’s a Beauty


She’s a Beauty,
well of course she is,
that’s never been in doubt,
that red haired flaming fireball
of a woman
burned her initials into my
heart awhile ago,
Searing her mark way down
deep into
my soul.

She’s a Beauty,
sweet as can be.
a saucy strawberry in a bowl
of vanilla ice cream, a
a cool sugary lemonade on a hot
summers day.

She’s a Beauty,
mythic and magical
and lovely as Aphrodite, and
inviting as the Mona Lisa
in her playful smile when
she sees me
walk her way.

She’s a Beauty,
my best friend
to the end
my pal, my buddy, my companion
my lover, my go to confidant
for intimacy is the definition of us

And that Beauty is soon to be my lovely
wife.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Tacos and Tequilas


Sometimes its tacos and salt rimmed tequilas,
movies and lonely couches,
cold beds and cats, tongue twister
and tying up,
a plethora of pleasures in the grab bag
of life
followed by a deluge
of desiccated numb bodies
dumped on your front lawn.

Sometimes its a magical arc of light
swinging in the breeze
by a delicate hand on a dark path

It’s sweet sugar on your lips
tongue licking,
as you slowly, reluctantly
back away from the most
wonderful kiss.

It’s a flurry of heavy punches
to the gut
tickling, because you have been there
before, and you can take it.
Can you not?

So you emit a raucous laugh
at the absurdity
that the day has wrought.
Jaded in your green dreams
you wake to breathe
in new air
to expel the stale.

Grab a Bagel and go out the
door
as you think of the
sweet sugar
that still lingers
on your lips
from the night
before.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

 

 

Starting out


Starting out,
she was perfect,
snow white in complexion
with hands and legs of delicate
moving intent.
She had a curious furious mind,
flitting like a butterfly.
Her dreams took her everywhere
she wanted to go,
just to be.
Her smile was pure and outpouring
magical and inviting.
Her laugh was infectious and inclusive
Her empathy for a friend
heart rending and knife cutting
to the bone of the soul.

She was what beauty was always meant to be.

Then one day she heard the words and phrases
of the malintent
she’s not as pretty as some, or that
brain between yours ears
will never get you very far
And thoughts of fancy are
best left forgotten,
placed in a locked box
and dumped into the sea.

All her seeming sins were brought up from the depths
and laid bare by muted lovers never seeing their own
ill gotten gains.
Violent beating words, followed by choking pushing
declarations of malevolent “loving” motives
left her mind a fractured land
she was scared to travel,
day or night.

At the start of my first
pause at seeing her
really seeing her,
she was magic personified in flesh.
A bright pulsing blue
engulfing.
A rushing vibrant river come to claim
and I smiled inside
at the taking of me.

I saw in her the inception
of the girl and the woman that was always there
I saw all those things they could not
in her
And I told her so.
as she smiled
tears falling.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

My Heart


You get me good
when you draw
in close,
skin to skin,
simply because three inches
is just too far away
in bed

I’m yours, every piece,
when your eyes fill with
tears
As your fears
engulf,
thinking my presence
might fade or run.

My heart aches
in the best way at the love
I’ve stumbled into.
The catching up of my soul
into yours has
been one of the most singularly
beautiful moments
in my life.

My heart is yours to
keep safe,
To love,
To know.
and to
always call home.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Time, Tenacity and the Reason Why.


Moments flit
mounting to minutes,
then hours,
Days cycle
as the sun sets
and I’m left
bereft.
Wasted, are the stars
that twinkle.
Wasted, is the moon
illuminating.
No inspiration wrought.
Looking deep,
a hole hides
where once
a solid space
did reside.
Why the vacancy?
Oh, if only the
tick tock
of time could
halt, or
grind down to
near a trickle
then perhaps
my soul would have
the tenacity
to finally
awaken
once
more.

Philip Wardlow 2018