Tag Archives: poetry

GiFs for your Entertaiment, Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Mini-Poetry of Many Flavors

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dress

Mischievous

Her dress unraveled

Falling slowly, suddenly,

clothed now only  in a grin

to mirror my own.

****************

tenor

Perspective

Circling,  ever circling

around and around

eyes shaded to what is, what was,

what might be.  When all

we needed do was to stop and leave

this fun house to truly see , and never

buy a ticket again.

**************

cookiecat

Cookie Cat

Oh fat cat, where

did that last cookie go?

Do you suppose

it went down

that big  mouse trap of a mouth?

I’m thinking so.

************

shadowplay

Shadow Play

Kill your shadow

before it kills you.

Your shadow doesn’t lead.

You lead you.

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

A Do Over?

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timetravel

If you could,

set a coordinate in time and space.

Push a button. Click…

and in a flick

of an eye lash or

the time it takes

for a humming bird’s heart

to beat just once.

You’re there.

Beside yourself, in yourself

telling that old new person,  who’s just

starting to breath life into their lungs,

To Think.

You would hesitate, that younger state.

For an instant, in listening to the older.

But, you would still follow through;

for their is no do over, no amending.

no take backs.

Time is a tricky bastard, giving and taking

in all the wrong places.

So you float, waiting.

Anxiety of the day always building.

Until it all unravels to reveal

the mystery of those moments in obvious hindsight

as pieces of you  fall through an aperture

to allow only minute grains

for you to view.

Bit by bit, little clues to life why

a person such as you or I might exist.

So travel ever forward, explore.

And try just a smidgeon to listen

to that future self when they

tell you not to fret.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

I could Never

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thekiss_starwars

 

I could never have chosen a more difficult woman.

Defiant brown eyes always challenging,

yet soften when I lean in with just the right words

whispered in your ear.

I may be scruffy but I know you secretly

like a man with a little hair and to warm

your hands with my own.

So, I will give you my best grin and tell you

I’ll swing by in the Falcon at eight

and we will travel to Dathomir

for a wild and fun filled date.

And never mind what Lando says,

for he’s just a Rogue  like me.

They can’t be trusted;

unless you have stolen their heart.

Know that you have, even

as you push me away to pull

me in tight.

I know you need a good kiss

and I have many to lend.

For I could never

leave you wanting

Unless it was all according

to my devious plan…. 🙂

 

 

by Philip Wardlowfalcon

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

I play

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faun-and-nymph-by-sydney-long

She knows not that I watch her soul

smiling idly out behind eyes blue flecked

with bits of gold.

I play a light and airy tune with wood and wind

Nestled deep in forest glen,

Just for her, as always promised.

Notes ride the air,

seeking purchase within her mind to push aside

a raven’s deep abiding dark claim.

For there resides a tumultuous churning,

ever undulating

as I try and intertwine

and weave, a melody

with my fool’s flute,

dipping an octave or

two going in.

Delicate…invisible…searching.

Enveloping.

Again, I spy your smile sneak out

as my delving takes.

And a shadow or two

that was once another you

loosens it purchase

and takes flight.

 

by Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

First Day to Last

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doubledutch

The hand moves on the clock

as the little girl skips down the block.

Sun up to sun down.

She laughs. and laughs, and laughs,

and sings in her heart.

Until one day the ground comes to meet

her head on.

Now, her trust in gravity is suddenly gone.

Yet, she still skips, but ever so hesitantly.

Just ever so, knowing the cost in her

lack of caution.

Her heart still sings

as she joins in a game

of Double Dutch.

The rope flies as her feet take flight.

But the other girls in their turning

are not nice,

as they

slow the speed of the spin

throwing off the girls rhythm

So once again, gravity brings

blood on a sidewalk and

scraped raw knees,

and a small wall.

On and on her days come and go,

the clock continually ticking

with the gravity of the Universe

never relenting.

Always there; spinning,

as this little girl still

continues to skip

and jump rope.

With that same song

deep within her heart

humming ever so slowly,

just ever so.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Come Back as you Fall Away

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fall
Photo by Liam Carleton

 

Autumn rose from languid bed, out of her naked repose

alongside my own.

Against the soft light of day the shadows lengthened

around her curves.

She turned to give a smile as her hair

fluttered in a wind that wasn’t there.

Leaning in, she whispered her discontent

with a delicate kiss, cool and crisp

meant only for me.

I saw her truly then,

a desperation sought after,

a sorrow borrowed,

a beguiling mystery to be followed

But eventually lost.

She was my season, my breath

drawn and exhaled so slowly

as to stop time in its tracks.

Yet, she fell away, eyes downcast

always knowing the direction

she would eventually go.

Don’t, I begged.

but instead live in me.

Through all the dark

and the cold to come, and scorching rays

of days

stay within,

stay within,

And come back to bed with me.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

What say you?

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hike

 

Wee moments stuck in thought

stuck in the thought

of too many thoughts.

Where does life go when you let it go?

Does it strap on sneakers and have a run.

Not caring the road its on.

Well I  care for scenic, something with  a view,

a journey,

challenging but not reckless or cruel

to the soles of my shoes.

Mountains peaked, craggy and windswept,

leading to dreamy sittings on precarious ledge,

fertile valleys , dark and deep, muddy and froggy with

all the chirps and burps to be offered in the sun

either draped in shade, or tinkled on

by a rainy day.

What say you?

What do you really say?

As you crouch upon your porch

seeing the world run away?

Ah, you have no sneakers?

A poor excuse.

Grab your slippers, or those

old flip flops.

And simply start out for a little walk.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Stingy Jack

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Stingy_Jack_by_Phenylketonurics

Good Old Jack,

walks in the twilight between our world and what you would

call the other.

Into the out of, on paths that only he can see

with Fool’s Fire held in a hand-carved gourd to light his way.

A Ne’er-do-well if ever there was.

Cursed to wander the earth.

Never to know heaven or hell.

You may see his spook light bob in a graveyard or two as you pass,

especially on All Hallows Eve and on through to all Souls Day.

Wise men say, Old Jack’s looking for a way into heaven or hell

on such nights as these when the veil is thin.

If you see him, it’s best to keep on walking.

He has anger in him, a deep abiding bitterness swells.

like the ebb and flow of time that has trapped him.

He will have no hesitation to collect your soul should

you cross his path.

So beware or you may find yourself dead or a mindless

freak.

by Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Life in Death or is it Death in Life

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SkeletonLight

Death appreciates life , just as life appreciates death.

Both are impartial to the other.

A cold touch caresses the

beauty which flits to and fro

with seemingly

chaotic intention.

How are we to interpret the horrors of this vitality

when we ourselves are trapped in a purgatory

of our own design?

Perhaps a small light

shall lead the way for each of us

in our final hours as we lay

in our deep dark

grave.

By Philip Wardlow