Step into the EYE... walk into the unknowing. What are of you afraid of? Delve...delve...delve deep. Fear is a weighed response to a possible biased outcome of your own forging, fear not that future, for it could unfold into a thousand other delightful experiences. You will never know though unless you step in the EYE. So step, take my hand and let us both see what's on the other side together. by Philip Wardlow June 7th, 2023
Which do you prefer to be? The Adored or the Smitten? Why, as the Adored must come all the rewards, Eyes upon you, an audience numbering from one to one million. Hell even the right one can pour it on thicker in one mere moment than a million. How can you lose. How can you not see all the pleasure that brings? As the Adored are you ever bored? The Smitten have always outnumbered the Adored. They keep coming and coming and coming. Literally they may be coming. But in all seriousness, let's just hope they don't knock upon your door as they can get quite obsessive I have heard. Gift upon gift, upon gift, just to catch a peek perhaps to see, if what they they sent fits. It does, Oh , it's divine! Oh, by the way I also like the white one. But the Smitten, oh the Smitten, they have their dreams manifested in flesh, and a smile, and words that are just for them. Oh, the attention....it's everything. To be seen, to know you affect their life in that one small moment To possess the power to push it up or down. They are allowed to live within the life of the Adored, sitting at the edge of them, just a hair's width away from their every movement. Keep those compliments coming though, never wary for the Adored do get bored as do the Smitten. It's a transaction, a give and take. A take and give. Did you think you were Special? You the Adored, do you think you are truly treasured? You the Smitten are you truly charmed? Do you think you see them as they truly are? If in this life we flow from Give and Take what is ever truly real, what is ever truly fake if all our dealings are ever based upon the transaction? by Philip Wardlow, August 31st 2022
Ah melancholy you, melancholy me. Twins of pains throughout our separate travels in lands and time blown away by great distances and choices right or wrongly made. You clutch dearly to your past like a child does a doll all tattered and torn since received from her inception from the womb that bore here into this world. Myself in that journey I took. and of which I am still on, I fumble in my pockets, fiddling with the loose change of memories I have always kept close and collected throughout time. Both predilections in the way we cope in our own entanglements are either a solace, a penance, a nuisance, or constant curse. Why not us both seek a new habit? You throw down your doll I shall let my change fall through my fingers as I grab your hands tight in mine and continue our travels together. by Philip Wardlow March 29th, 2022
There is no greater story than us…
To meet during the chaos of our lives as the cruel planet revolved endlessly around.
The Universe said, “Here, take a look at this, isn’t it all you have ever wished for?”
“Yes, yes it is,” I replied inside, “she’s the type of girl I could love.”
From the come fuck-me eyes, to that open sweet smile, to those hips which told a future tale of open thighs letting me inside, from her warm heart to her internal heat.
When the Universe speaks, you better listen hard, for she may only whisper but once.
I didn’t blink, I didn’t turn away. I smiled back.
I saw her that night, fully. Her and I, laid out together for the next years of our lifetime and perhaps well beyond if the myths be true.
She was the one, she is the one.
From her eyes, to her smile, to her hips and well beyond.
By Philip Wardlow Aug 26th, 2021
I love recalling the past of you when we first met, when the Universe nudged me into you, I remember your first smile, shy but sly, your first
laugh, full and inviting. your body as it danced, swaying and in sync with my own.
I remember your eyes looking at me with a lust of a thousand lovers,
then later with love like a thousand poems
I don’t want to forget
the first time of knowing you
and everything that pulled
me into those eyes, running.
I want all the songs that are ours
to wrap up around us
every time you walk into the room
I don’t want to forget you the first time.
Because those first times always bring me home to you and I love you all over again just like the first time.
by Philip Wardlow May 19th, 2021
Let me close my eyes
and softly sink
into you,
my mind intertwininng,
weaving
amongst
your own tangledness.
I wish to sift through your dreams,
pushing away the debris
to see all the fallen wishes
and struck down desires.
I wish to ride the sorrowful
storms of a life stolen,
lost to the whims of the
Others, those demons
which rode you down and snatched
it all away, laughing,
as if your pain
was just a game.
I want to see all of it,
each and every dream,
everyone,
witnessing it with you
in a tight embrace.
Holding you, I would whisper
that it will all
be alright,
For you are home now,
and your dreams are
safe for I hold them
as dearly as I hold
you now and until
the end of
all time.
by Philip Wardlow September 2020
Speak to me of love?
What do you know of love?
Did it grip you tightly?
Did it have you enthralled?
Did you chase it like a little
kitten chases a ball of yarn
tumbling down a long
flight of stairs never quite
catching up
until it all unravels.
What does a kitten mean to a piece of
yarn anyways?
I will tell you,
absolutely nothing at all.
If you truly wish to know the
secrets of the heart
let’s speak of lust,
love’s lost cousin.
A bewildered child of
aches and unknown needs,
a meandering fool of the flesh
thinking the reality of a moment of
soft penetrating touches
done in the dark
is all their is to
being complete.
But those sweet treats
are only ever
half the nourishment
the soul needs.
I will tell you this,
Love starts as a delicate touch
followed by a delicate word,
followed by a delicate intention,
followed by a delicate action
Over, and over, and over
a cycle never ending
never wanting to end.
Because the feeling
is too sweet,
sweeter than the sweetest
candy
and infinitely more filling
to the ache that sits
inside you.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
Thank you for your pain, but move along
someone else just got the high
score in the game of life
and you are just not
important anymore
Contract a disease
and then we’ll talk,
depressions been
done already,
that’s last year new It girl,
and you didn’t make the cover.
Hell you didn’t even get
a mention towards
the back.
You could always present us
up with a new dilemma, something
tortuous and glorious
something for the ages
And we’ll spy with our little
eye, and give a word or two
of sanctimonious advice
trying not to sound trite
as we hand out a like or love
like its a piece of gold.
But please, seriously, move along
you are taking up
space.
by Philip Wardlow
On first sight,
I did smile,
eyes drinking you in like a warm
red sweet wine,
rolling the taste
around with my tongue
slowly savoring,
before swallowing you
down,
trying to satiate a thirst
you created
with just
one devastating look
my way.
On first kiss,
the universe coalesced
between our lips
electrons comingled
energies shared,
released in cataclysmic
meeting, we danced
together you and I
body and soul
hand in hand
orbiting, revolving
and falling
into the others
gravity,
pulling and
savoring the magic
in the resonance
between
the other,
knowing none like it
that had ever come before.
On first parting,
an almost ripping,
a tearing of souls
seamed together
like a fine soft silk
blanketing us
both in a commanding
comfort
of a home
we had never known
yet sought,
with surety
we knew
that through patience
and the
wrestling of fate
we would
meet
again to make
the universe
dance for us
in the home
of our own
creation.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
I’m coming with,
if
we’re close in death
and your spirit wants
to go before
I’ll be hugging you tight
as the heroin goes in us
both
Then my dear friend
with my hand in yours
we’ll let that
euphoric concoction
swim through
to envelop to a quiet warmth
until we walk off that
cliff
And we go flying
High
High
High
Away
Letting go
in search of the
far
far
far
away.
By Philip Wardlow 2018
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Wellness • Poetry • 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, Life, and my Wandering Mind
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Wellness • Poetry • 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, Life, and my Wandering Mind
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 