Tag Archives: poetry

Thank you for your Pain

November 6, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

Thank you for your pain, but move along
someone else just got the high
score in the game of life
and you are just not
important anymore

Contract a disease
and then we’ll talk,
depressions been
done already,
that’s last year new It girl,
and you didn’t make the cover.
Hell you didn’t even get
a mention towards
the back.

You could always present us
up with a new dilemma, something
tortuous and glorious
something for the ages
And we’ll spy with our little
eye, and give a word or two
of sanctimonious advice
trying not to sound trite
as we hand out a like or love
like its a piece of gold.

But please, seriously, move along
you are taking up
space.

by Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Plants need watering

November 6, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

The flower sits on the table, withering,
it looks tired now. Slumped.
Sad.
Dead dry leaves litter the ground
around it.
Perhaps not watered enough, perhaps
drowned with rotted roots
Perhaps too much sun as it
sat in a hot room,
or were the shades drawn too tight
not allowing enough light?
Choked off in some way
it was, to look so.
Either way it was neglected.
Best just to throw
it way now.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Connections

November 5, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

I connected with you but you never knew,
all hundred of you.

Did you ever feel a light tickle on your neck or a
tap on the shoulder?

That was me just saying hello.

Much the distant spectator
string in hand, held tight to the kite of you
as you danced in the wind.

I either smiled, laughed, or cried
just a bit, soaking up
the moment that you offered
out.

Until I simply decided to let go
to watch you escape into
the sky.

By Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Tying you up

September 11, 2019 Philip Wardlow 2 Comments

Never,
was I great at tying knots in the Boy Scouts;
Square Knot
Clove Hitch
Bowline
Sheet Bend
Two Half-Hitches
and the Taunt Line-Hitch.
They all ran together
and daunted my clumsy fingers,
yet I persisted and received my badge

A year later
I was not in Boy Scouts
and I had no use for knots
So I soundly forgot everyone of them
All that knowledge had leaked from my brain
wiped clean memory as if it had
never been.
I even sucked at tying my shoes.

Fast forward, thirty years later
I took up knot tying again for other reasons
less academic
and most assuredly extracurricular.
Your earnest eyes came seeking it, calling for it
needing it.
I answered your compulsions
as they mirrored my own,
proudly perverse in spirit.

I am still clumsy, still fumbling,
but my passion for you will carry
me through to mastery one day,
for a sureness of hand
along with a clever
deftness of skill
to intertwine your body,
quench your desires,
and a satiate soul seeking
to be tied to me and by me
forever.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Padded Perfection

September 9, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

We slave to have everything,
we fight the world for “ours”,
we strive for perfection,
we seek a look of a dream
that shimmers and undulates
from a hot arid
plane
at the edge
of a horizon
containing all our fears and doubts

This seeming perfect way
of anything is bullshit
it’s just bullshit
everyone thinks they’re better than the other
vanity abounds as pride flattens them
under the gravity of their
making
always pushing, and pushing
down, down, down.

Their way is the best way, cant you see?
And if you can’t, well sorry, you are just
not as cultured as them.
There are no gray areas, only
high contrasts and muted voices
in a bubble.

Light and dark
banging against the other
until all the world
goes mad
held tight in a bright white straight jacket
in a dark as pitch
padded room.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

GiFs for your Entertaiment, Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The Death of Melody

August 23, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

I have heard that Melody
in music is dying,
stripped down
to either Harmony,
Rhythm, or Tone.
Using only 3 Notes,2,1, or None
to get the job done
and feed the
hungry masses.

People still love the
new music though.
I have at times.
It’s got a good beat
and you can dance to it
and might have
something clever
to deliver
that clicks into
you gently.

But most of it’s shit
cuz there’s
no flow
up and down the scale
flirting
with the emotional
peaks and valleys
of the soul
pulling something
out of you
involuntarily
beyond your control.

Now, most of it feels
recycled, overused
or too simple
like your ABCs

I don’t wish for Melody
to die
I wish for it to thrive
and come alive

So maybe, just maybe
it’ll jumpstart
my heart and reawaken
the Melody in me.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

On first meeting

August 22, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

On first sight,
I did smile,
eyes drinking you in like a warm
red sweet wine,
rolling the taste
around with my tongue
slowly savoring,
before swallowing you
down,
trying to satiate a thirst
you created
with just
one devastating look
my way.

On first kiss,
the universe coalesced
between our lips
electrons comingled
energies shared,
released in cataclysmic
meeting, we danced
together you and I
body and soul
hand in hand
orbiting, revolving
and falling
into the others
gravity,
pulling and
savoring the magic
in the resonance
between
the other,
knowing none like it
that had ever come before.

On first parting,
an almost ripping,
a tearing of souls
seamed together
like a fine soft silk
blanketing us
both in a commanding
comfort
of a home
we had never known
yet sought,
with surety
we knew
that through patience
and the
wrestling of fate
we would
meet
again to make
the universe
dance for us
in the home
of our own
creation.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

What Defines Me

August 16, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

What do you see in me when
you see me?

Hair, raven black in
soft waves curling,
wisdom creeping, as
white snow streaks upon
the edges of a life
leaving.

Eyes of rich dark mahogany
seeking clarity to life
truly as it is and not
how it’s supposed to be
but often
failing.

Mouth, always smiling in invitation
yet reticent in divulging
all the secrets
accumulated lest
judgements pronounce
me false in your
biased ears.

My own Ears,
are sharper than most,
seeking every intonation
behind a word and it’s
hidden meaning,
but would rather hear
it freely given.

My Hands, strong hands,
loving and gentle hands
tools to create a home
and to hold you tight
yet balled and clenched
when it all becomes
to much sometimes.

What’s between my
legs you ask?
You thought I wouldn’t say
Ha! A passion some cannot
measure or take but would
love to try and
conquer

My feet have carried me
far, whether in a slow walk
or a run my Travels are far
from done.

And ah, my heart, my heart
it beats,
its full always to
overflowing
yet fearful
of spilling a drop
lest it gets wasted.
But yet I pour
my heart into
an endless
cup
Never quite filling
it up.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

All the Happy that Comes

August 14, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

Happy is never
a permanent state of
mind.
More often than not
it isn’t there.
But it is there
at times.
Oh, most assuredly it
is there.
I feel it
smiling along side
a character in a book, or
lifted by that actor or actress
in a poignantly profound scene.
A hug from across a room by a
friend with just their eyes alone.
To be seen, truly seen when
I speak my words aloud
or write them down
for a stranger I have
never known.
Often times I am melancholy,
weighted, and in disarray
But a shared laugh or smile brings
me back home to me
in all the electric intimacy
life brings,
and I glow inside,
lightened and floating in
the midst of that connection.
Accomplishments, with mountains
climbed, my nature nourished
on the struggles conquered
and obstacles surmounted
that I never thought
would come to pass.
I’ve realized the Happy Comes
when I reach for it,
inviting it in to come
stay for just a bit
until it decides
to leave
and having faith it will
always be right around
the way
waiting to say
hello again.