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
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
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, 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
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
When there is a connection
A lover is a lover
Like no other
I have seen it
I have felt it
I have been told
This
Can this connection
come and go, you
suppose?
I hope so.
For it often goes.
and goes
and goes
away.
Philip Wardlow 2017
I will not like everything you do
but I will still like you.
I will not love the moods you
fall into but I will
still love you.
I will see you as you are;
imperfect, unpolished, lost
but I will still take your hand
and squeeze it, letting you know I am
right there with you on that path.
I will laugh when you laugh, I will cry when you cry
I will hurt when you hurt,
through all the years
that we have left on this earth
I will.
There is beauty in you,
so much beauty
Like a child that sleeps
and dreams
of play and magical places to roam
and beasts to wrestle and hug
I will always be watching
you dream.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
by Philip Wardlow 2016
P.S This poem is NOT about me just so you know. I often like to play with POV of other people.
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Mind • Body • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Mind • Body • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 