Tag Archives: pretty

Why is Snow White the most beautiful?


 

No one is the MOST beautiful. Most and Beautiful do not go together except in the subjective sense. If you believe Snow White is the most beautiful, then she is…if I believe she not the most beautiful, then she is not. Maybe you like her voice and singing…I do not….maybe you like her fair skin and dark hair color, and I perhaps prefer a blonde with a tan. Maybe I prefer a girl with muscles who takes care of herself in a fight, and you prefer a damsel in distress. With no prejudices behind it , maybe I think Cinderella is prettier….Beauty in something is a personal thing with many layers at times ….preferences that speak to you. Even something “ugly” can be beautiful…simply because it speaks to YOU.

Simple as that.

by Philip Wardlow July 2020

Finding her Hue


Hair a fire
cascades,
burning down to shoulders
bare.

Coy smile
seemingly innocent
but decadent
in desires running deep

I let her play the
victim to my victories
in her game
of dalliance.

Her mind is sharp,
keen is the blade
that is her tongue
which flicks
cutting through
my resolve.

Wickedly wonderful in her
need with a phrase or
two
at the sins she wishes
met upon her in bed

Angel eyes
wrapped in dark devil may care,
dare invitation.

And I dare…

Sweet pomegranate
Lips burst,
feeding my own, as my
lips stalk her body
slyly.

White alabaster
skin kissed with
the softness
of an innocent
doe, ache for my caress.

Voluptuous, sumptuous
hips play a rhythm
as my hands roam
to and fro.
Her beneath me
as I have now slipped
within.

And her world falls
away to that
secret place
only she knows

But I have a hint
of where she
goes.
In the way she curls
her toes.
When I cause
her world to flip
and transpose
to explode
in a vibrant
violent
calming
blue
fading
fading
dissolving
gradually into
all the hues
that ever were
of the color
blue.

Philip Wardlow 2018

Her Body – A poem by Philip Wardlow


Her Body

I noticed her body after her beguiling faced walked in.

It spoke and sang to me with a swaying of heavy hip action.

If only I could dial back my desire then the stars would align,

 but the god given geometry wrapping around that frame

would make a chaste man wonder why he went insane

as he saw curves creating arcs upon arcs

intertwining to manifest into shapes

only nature could conceive.

In the lovely female form

there’s a weakness

in me because as she

walks across the room

I continue to gaze while my

rapture increases knowing her body is

hidden beneath thin layers that only deepen

the mystery of a softness that is surely there.

What if I were to simply let my hands wonder

where they wish to go, to peek lightly with

 fingertips in a caress down her naked back

with all intent to travel on if my bold

desires permitted such an act.

I know my place, but she

will learn my charms,

she will see my face,

and look deep into

my eyes and

wonder if

tonight I

am her

fate.

By Philip Wardlow