Slumber comes for us all and dreams accompany with portents to perturb or pleasures to unfurl and enthrall Desires beg to be consumed just as fears wish to ruin the world inside, convincing us our contentment is a mere illusion. A wrinkle of doubt forms a shackle. Guilt a weight to drag us deep deep into the ocean But this ain't no cruise Cuz we're paddling always paddling As we scramble for the cork To plug that leak. while the sun shines shines and the storms creep creep. by Philip Wardlow March 22nd, 2023
Tag Archives: relationhips
If you had told me I would have
yearned for a simple handshake,
months from now,
I would have scoffed at such a silly notion.
If you would had said a hug from
a loved one was a distant memory
and that only through dreaming in bed
at night could such an implausible embrace happen,
I would have laughed in your face.
No light touches, no manly shoulder to shoulder hugs,
no holding hands, no fist bumps,
no incidental brushing of skin against
skin in the everyday going on
None of that.
I am bereft and unaware of the warmth
or coldness of a cheek or simple palms of another,
stolen is the smile behind
a mask that might have touched my soul
as they looked my way in the incidental
happenings of a mere
There is a gnawing
threatening to consume
by Philip Wardlow, May 12th, 2020
Come with Me – A poem
Come with Me –
I want to go with you in a field of flowers today,
so come away with me and we’ll play.
Grab your mitt, ball, and bat and
don’t forget to feed the cats.
Home plate will be the old tree stump, it’s still
serves as a reminder to our lives where
many a memory still reside.
First base will be the weeping willow where we have
dazed under on many a hot summer day in its shade.
Second base will be the corner of the old red barn where
we have ventured with our son and taught him how to explore
life just for fun.
Third base will be the edge at a bend in a forgotten stream
that has been flowing for years with all our dreams.
It still sparkles as the sun over high catches the ripples as
it flows by.
So come with me this day
For with you there’s always time to play.
By Philip Wardlow 2013
It’s Complicated – a Poem
It’s Complicated –
Sink or swim.
Hundred pound of feathers,
or a hundred pounds of lead?
Doggy paddle or breast stroke?
Doesn’t fucking matter, she says
My daddies got a motor boat.
I just smile and flick my ashes
in her drink,
and keep on walking.
You see it’s complicated,
this you and me thing.
My chemistry is mangled compared to
yours and there is no untangling
such a goddam chore
of a life you take
You don’t see.
For me, it’s complicated,
like chess, or Risk
It’s far from fucking checkers
A game, is a game, is a game
and it could be fun,
This you and me.
For every game big or small
has got its rules but sadly
you never learned to read.
By Philip Wardlow 2014