Tag Archives: relationship

Seven Days by Sting with Lyrics


Seven Days

“Seven Days” was all she wrote
A kind of ultimatum note
She gave to me, she gave to me
When I thought the field had cleared
It seems another suit appeared
To challenge me, woe is me
Though I hate to make a choice
My options are decreasing mostly rapidly
Well we’ll see
I don’t think she’d bluff this time
I really have to make her mine
It’s plain to see
It’s him or me

Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late

The fact he’s over six feet ten
Might instill fear in other men
But not in me, the mighty flea
Ask if I am mouse or man
The mirror squeaked, away I ran
He’ll murder me in time for his tea
Does it bother me at all
My rival is Neanderthal, it makes me think
Perhaps I need a drink
IQ is no problem here
We won’t be playing Scrabble for her hand I fear
I need that beer

Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late

Seven days will quickly go
The fact remains, I love her so
Seven days, so many ways
But I can’t run away
I can’t run away

Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late
(Sunday’d be too late)
Sunday’d be too late

Do I have to tell a story
Of a thousand rainy days since we first met
It’s a big enough umbrella
But it’s always me that ends up getting wet

Songwriters: Gordon Sumner (Sting)

A million pieces


How do you tell if you
are broken into
a million pieces?

And how do you tell when
you are whole?

I’ve cut myself
a hundred times
with the sharp edges
of my many pieces
as I slipped in my
own blood,
slick upon the floor

I have beat the walls
with fists used to
the abuse and the
comforting pain that comes

But there is a time when
the pain lends no comfort
and there is a time
when the tears falling
give no relief
It all just reminds you
how truly broken
you just might be.

I want to linger in you.
Caress the what-if of
our potential even if it’s
fleeting.

See some of the fallen pieces
In your eyes and pick them up
One by one
Knowing I will never be whole
and that’s okay
not to be.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

In knowing


 

There is a danger in knowing you
too well Miss Light.
Indeed,
like a stormchaser
racing after a tornado
down a back road
with no outlet.
Then the twister suddenly turns,
No escape,
and only beautiful obliteration
Follows
No pieces left of me
to find.
Just a lonely road
as the funnel slowly
rotates up and away
to fade into the
heavens
as if it never was.

Philip Wardlow 2017.

 

Song of Her


 

She’s now my melancholy,
my folly
my quarter note
never full.
She’s the one that spun
away
after I played her over and over.

A glissando of whims, wonderment, and woe
up then down
Sliding, ever sliding
to that natural progression
where our music was surely meant to go
Inevitably
to fade, fade, fade, away
and come to
its final
rest.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Ever hopeful


 

Fists balled in anger,  soul sad and fed-up,
yet ever hopeful that his carefully balanced cup
stays half full for the days he knows to surely come
will  be worse than this one.

So he drinks a toast to life still here, full and bright.
Dances with a half drunk girl
he’ll never know,
as he smiles at himself for the kiss he stole.

Then goes home to his empty home;
unless you count his cat Jack
with the biggest eyes you’ve ever
seen for him.
Oh what a wayward lover he is.
Yet, all it ever does, is make him wish
that a girl would look at him that same way.

He is ever hopeful
for he’s built that way,
he’s always been
since he was a small, wee
lad.

Ever hopeful,
even as it all crumbles away.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

The Dog


 

There is a dog on a porch
that never gets to be let it in,
His head gets patted,
his belly gets rubbed
Occasionally.

He gets told he is a good boy
as his bowl of food is set
before him,
Right before
his owner jumps
in the car and disappears down the road.

The sunsets are his favorite as
the day departs
and the night entreats
with possibilities to
be found in the roaming…

But the leash restricts.
He can never venture too far.
from this porch.

So he just sits.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

The Me you See


 

The me you see, is just a pale umbra of whom I’m supposed to be.

I’ve come to  a wall and I can’t make the jump,

I try and I try and just bounce the hell off.

But what I really don’t know is that I’m just a toad in the road

and it’s just a small curb on a street.

It’s a cliff so sheer and high that it’s a trick to belie the eye.

I tell myself one more jump…kerplunk!

My little toad head hurts like hell from all the bashing

against the wall.

If I can just find that perfect crack to start me on my crawl to wind my way up.

But that would require luck…fuck!

Where the hell am I going to get any of that?

So I’m a toad.

Not a frog a princess can kiss

to relieve me of this predicament.

Sorry, no frog underneath this frog-like veneer miss.

But I will be the prince of toads one day.

Fuck the frog I say!

So I look for that crack in the wall,

no matter how small,

to eventually make my way

up and over.

To that other me

that I don’t yet see,

The Prince of Toads,

in all of his bumpy

brown glory.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

The Dead Half of Her


 


 

 

I don’t need to connect with you on any level

that means anything.

Why should I?

Let’s keep it frivolous

Let’s keep it small.

But I’ll put on a smile for you

once in a while

to give

you give you  a reason

to hang on.

To show you that you entertain me

just a bit.

But we both know that there is a dead half

to me, she said

And it  will never come alive for you.

Sure were friends, she said.

Sure.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017