In the cold dead of winter, the homeless man on the city bus yelled out as he sat. “Happiness is a nice warm bus!” I thought idly, how perfect is that?
Tag Archives: poetry
Deadly Campfire – A poem for all you Campers out there this summer
We abide by the warmth of the fire,
our backs to the cold night woods that surround,
as dark imaginings linger through already mangled minds.
What could it be that terrorizes us this night?
We hear it, for it roams in a circle about us,
raking its claws on the trees in its passage,
brazen and bold in its rustling of the dead leaves
underfoot as it tromps its course.
Heavy breathing speaks of a great beast.
Long ago did our merriment falter and grow
into a cruel sickness within.
Fear is our only companion at this gathering
turned into a mournful wake by nature’s
hidden foe.
Rose was a pleasant girl, bright and full
of light.
She was the first to go.
Harold never had a chance as it took him.
I have his blood splattered across my clothes.
I shall miss them both.
Max was next, with his silly stupid grin,
as it’s claws raked his face off.
Julie cried and cried, and held tight to
her log, but still she died as it took her
and that piece of rotten wood.
Sylvia and I stare into the embers,
clinging to each other and a reality
that no longer resides.
Once there were six,
now only two.
My beautiful Sylvia, my love, my life.
Yet still I feel no remorse as I throw
her to the creature and began to run… 
**********************
by Philip Wardlow 2013
Somewhere in the Middle – A Poem
Somewhere in the Middle
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
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
Separate me, tear me into threes and just leave me be
The damage you have wrought can be repaired,
Once your memory finally fades
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.
Tag I’m it…Wish to see into my mind? Well, here’s your chance with a little Q & A
Na 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)
Q. 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 up
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.
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
Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow
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)
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
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 