Tag Archives: poetry

Somewhere in the Middle – A Poem


Somewhere in the MiddleGoldilocks_

Goldilocks was a high maintenance bitch;

just eat the damn porridge

and get in bed!

Too small,too big

Too hot,too cold

Too hard, too soft.

Big, hot, and hard

and she couldn’t take it.

Never quite right.

Never quite satisfactory.

She was looking for something

perfectly somewhere in the middle.

Golden curls flowed past

shoulders which never knew

beautiful burdens.

Lips laughed at another’s pain

while a hypocrite’s snarl formed

future wrinkles to flourish

into old age.

Blue eyes never saw beyond

the vale which she never

chose to lift.

She was a pretty petite THING,

the ugly cute troll under the bridge,

in her own graceless sort of

way.

Payment was always expected.

The world owed her the world.

Not once pausing….in her thinking…to reflect.

There is no you…only us,

and your somewhere in the middle

of it all just like me.

By Philip Wardlow 2013

Bloody Ballet – A Poem


BloodHeart

Bloody Ballet

She pirouettes

adorned in a dress

of black gossamer,

Spinning with blade

in hand to music only

she hears.

Flame red hair sweeps the air,

flinging outward, as

drops of crimson

drip from the tip

to the cold hard floor;

knives held tight by

delicate fingers.

Her hands move with

the intensity of the allegro.

Alive, brisk, and deadly.

The sharpness of her tools

keep up with her demands

of dissection and delving.

The other dancers

fall before her

as if in silent repose.

Arabesque to glissade,

her strong legs coupe

across the floor,

she cuts and cuts and cuts

and does a sourbresaut

like a cat jumping

onto her final partner

in this ensemble of now

only one.

She seeks his heart

as the point punches through.

Death follows

Yet still it beats

as she holds it,

Still it beats

as she takes a bite.

Still it beats

as she rises from

her grand plie

and takes a bow

to the crowd

from

center stage.

By  Philip Wardlow 2013

Cools Gif and because I’m to Lazy to do anything with my Blog


ThePublicEye

Separate me, tear me into threes and just leave me be

The damage you have wrought can be repaired,

Once your memory finally fades

TheOldAstronomer

Clock Work Orange

Ah, the clock yet continues to tock

Do you see the charm, do you see the light

which still shines through, but its a dark light indeed.

ClockWorkOrange

Demons

Tag I’m it…Wish to see into my mind? Well, here’s your chance with a little Q & A


tag-youre-it1Na na …na na na…I’m it!

A fellow blogger of mine, whom I follow and who follows me , over at Lily Wight The Arcade of Arts, tagged me and few others to answer some questions.  I guess am it.  These questions below were presented to me to answer as I see fit…perhaps you will get to know me a little better afterwards:

Q.  Have you ever been obsoleted from your job and how did you feel about it?

I will say no. I have struggled and crawled my way into my position at my job and they can’t live with out me. Now, they come to the almighty Philip and wait on my every word. (Sure they do)

SONY DSCQ.  What is your favorite board game and why?

I loved the Electronic Based Board Game Dark Tower and I miss it till this day because mine broke awhile back and they no longer sell it anymore. It was the coolest board game hands down…it was way ahead of its time and still is for a board game…Monopoly has nothing on it. Pah! I spit on your grave Monopoly.

Q.  When you look at the stars, what do you see?

I see a beautiful mystery &  potential adventure . So much potential if we only play our cards right as a planet.

Q. When you look at the ocean, what does it remind you of?

Lost stories of civilizations come and gone along with a hidden world as vast as space.

Q.  How do you overcome writer’s block?

Well, first I call it less a writer’s block and more a writer’s quicksand.  Sometimes, I stop what  I’m trying to write and stretch my brain on something else, like poetry, or I’ll blog, or a really good movie. Basically, I shift gears to something else for a bit then shift over to what got me stuck in the muck in the first place. Usually, that helps me drive through it till I hit the next bog in the road again.

Q.  If you could say 3 encouraging things to another person, what would they be?

That it’s never too late.  That doing something starts with actually trying to do it,   and that if you make a mistake don’t beat yourself up over it, learn from it and move on.

Q.  Do you prefer to write your stories/books/poetry/prose/articles on paper first, then type them upWriting and edit them, or do you like to type them straight into your computer to edit?

I used to be all over the board, but I find I do like to write my poetry on paper first  and refine it later on the computer. I will tend to scribble a few memo like notes of story ideas in a notebook and  then take that to the computer  to start the full blown story.

Q.  Do you like writing in one genre or more?

I like to mainly write urban  fantasy with a slightly dark aspect to it. I like to take a miserable character and bring the best out of them in that setting. I can apply that same theme through horror, or science fiction stories which I like to write as well sometimes.

Q.  As a writer, do you think actions speak louder than words?

I think its a combination of both juxtaposed in a nice balancing act that brings out the best in your story and characters.

Q.  What is your favorite quote and why?

Heard this  from a friend who quoted Henry David Thoreau –  “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”  –  I found that line comforting in regards to my struggles with my writing and in my life.

tumblr_m2f1vhftje1r63y12o1_1280

Take your Luck – A poem by Philip Wardlow


Shut the hell up cuz you got luck
so take it and run with it.

The suitcase I carry isn’t full
of the…
horseshoes,shamrocks,
or Maneki-neko lucky cats.
It’s got more of the broken bits
of mirrors that I have collected
over the years or the dead black
cats that have called it home…

Sure your pain is yours,
own it…I don’t care,
but don’t ever think it compares
to my level of despair.
Don’t whine and don’t bitch while
your lucky number seven sits on your
back and lifts you up while my
thirteen has been nothing but mean
to me, bringing me down to depths
that hell can’t even see.

I have my magpie of sorrow
who talks to me often…he thinks
it a joke to lead to me believing
that the world works at times.

But I do care for the lucky ones, so
don’t let him catch your eye.

Take your luck and run with it,

and maybe just maybe you won’t
end up with the same luck as me.

By Philip Wardlow  2012

bad luck1

Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow


Happy Accident

Everything and anything

could have been that day,

yet I was there sitting in that place,

in that small little space,

in that time, that moment

plucked with you in

mind.

A hello, a smile, a small question

to catch my eye.

 My attention never wavered…as something,

yes something…told me

there was more  to this meeting,

more…

than just

the  casual.

You were my Happy Accident

if I only chose

to embrace it.

by Philip Wardlow 2013

Blue Balls of Gentleman – A Poem…(did this happen to me? – I’m not telling)


 

BlueBall

Blue Balls of a Gentleman

Never was a pain so great
as to leave a man almost
doubled over as he walked.

Such a foul wretch of a woman
she was; to taunt and to flaunt
her wares so, to sidle up alongside me,
yet hold back her ultimate
charms.

Never to help me find release
from the tension that she had
caused to exist far below.

True, I could have taken matters into my
own hands like any chaste man should have;
evacuate the cause of all my pent up
pressure and damn her back to the nine hells
where she surely belonged.

But I be not a man to take the easy course;
for I wished her to capitulate in the war
she had waged right outside my castle gate.

Cease this siege woman!

Acquiesce to the desires that I see burning
in your eyes and overcome your coolness
buried deep in your cold keep of a heart.

Grab hold of what you desperately
wish to conquer and I shall relinquish
myself to you with a flood of gratitude.

Perhaps dear lady you will grow
accustomed to my sweet taste.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

What a woman wants – A poem by Don Juan aka Me :)


What a Woman Wants

She walks on by in her tight skirt,
as my brown eyes drink her in and
I say to myself, so it begans.

She smiles and I smile back,
I say hello in a way so she knows that
she matters in this moment to me.

I’m in engaged in her form, her voice.
Her smell of cinnamon must surely
taste like her lips if I were to kiss them.

I make you laugh as I tell you you’re the
sweetest girl I‘ve ever met and that I might just have
to take you home and put you on my toast in the morning
instead of my blackberry jam.

Would I be too forward if I took you by the hand

and looked into your eyes and told you to trust
me with  your whole heart as I wiped
away a tear from the tale you told
me of your last man.

You see, I see you.
I get you, I see your quirks,
I see your moods, I see your passions
and I’m right there baby

Right next to you and I’m
not going anywhere

Now come over here
and let me show you
what love is my
Dear.

by Philip Wardlow 2012

I suppose – Random thoughts put to prose


I suppose
Closed

Life goes and goes…and nobody knows truly why….you can tell me you truly know…and I will nod my head and say yeah, I suppose, and not seek to dismiss cuz I’m like that – to each their own – …but deep inside I’m still surmising, guessing, hoping…I do believe there is some purpose to this space and time that we occupy. But could that be the secret? That we apply a purpose to begin with.  Whatever the case, I believe Will, Desire and Intention have a power all their own..so we will see when all the lights are turned off and the door is finally locked tight and the sign is finally hung….what mysteries may await us after closing time.  By Philip Wardlow

Cruel Master – A Poem


Grasping_Heart_by_Aevinum

Cruel Master

I have no opinions of which you would care to hear;

for the heart is a cruel master which binds you tight.

Cry out and you will only get more of the same I’m sure;

another beating to send you back into the corner whimpering.

So I slink around the edges of your eyes and live

in the shadows of the moods you cast.

And hope that you never see I am slowly

poisoning the master you have come to

love.

So one day you will be free.

by Philip Wardlow 2013