Tag Archives: relationhips

Skin Hunger


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
of life.
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
day.

There is a gnawing
Deep
A pang
Inside
Screaming
A hunger
threatening to consume
To feel
To know
the innocent
intimate
touch
of another.

by Philip Wardlow, May 12th, 2020

Come with Me – A poem


Ромашковое поле

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


Chess

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

for granted.

You don’t see.

For me, it’s complicated,

like chess, or Risk

It’s far from fucking checkers

dear.

A game, is a game, is a game

and it could be fun,

This you and me.

It’s complicated.

For every game big or small

has got its rules but sadly

you never learned to read.

By Philip Wardlow 2014