Tag Archives: relationships

Be Still My Beating Heart by Sting


Be still my beating heart
It would be better to be cool
It’s not time to be open just yet
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget

Be still my beating heart
Or I’ll be taken for a fool
It’s not healthy to run at this pace
The blood runs so red to my face

I’ve been to every single book I know
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so

I sink like a stone that’s been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart

Be still my beating heart
You must learn to stand your ground
It’s not healthy to run at this pace
The blood runs so red to my face

I’ve been to every single book I know
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart

Never to be wrong
Never to make promises that break
It’s like singing in the wind
Or writing on the surface of a lake

And I wriggle like a fish caught on dry land
Struggle to avoid any help at hand

I sink like a stone that’s been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart

Songwriters: Gordon Sumner

The Feels


 

People either embrace the feels
or they fight against it.
Neither is wrong, and neither is
right.
It’s all just timing and circumstance.
Want or Need. Fight or Flight.
There is a glitch in us, for or
against, for whatever reason
we deem important in that slice
of time that it demands it of us.
We move mountains to attain it
or disengage from even the remoteness
of it happening in a flicker of an eyelash.
Fear and anxiety wells up within us
or an earnestness and compulsion
pulls us like a loadstone to the beautiful source
I have seen it in others…I have felt it from others
I have felt it in me.
You can do nothing to fight it.
Simple avoid or engage.
Yet, you need the feels in either aspect, in
the positive or the negative
in order to engage in life,
to be functional
You need that connection to the what-if
of the word or the now of it.
That connection no matter how
tenuous or deep meaning.
You choose your poison in the
dosage you yourself dole out.
I will choose my own and perhaps
we will in a future time
where both
our wills coincide.
Finally meet.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

Leavetaking


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I touched on you
for the merest moment
as each caress was counted
by my hand upon your
skin.
While each multitude of last kisses were my final goodbye that took it’s slow
approach in the
forever meandering days we spent
in ignorant luxury with
one another.
Fools,
yet fortunate ones
to find such a rich
treasure
Deep in the eyes of another
Us knowing the
full wealth
we clutched
And still finding
the strength
to set it aside
knowing it could
possibly lead to
a profound
sadness
from which there would be
no escape from.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

You Got Lucky Music by Tom Petty


 

You better watch what you say
You better watch what you do to me
Don’t get carried away
Girl, if you can do better than me
Go, yeah, go
But remember

Good love is hard to find
Good love is hard to find
You got lucky, babe
You got lucky, babe
When I found you

You put a hand on my cheek
And then you turn your eyes away
If you don’t feel complete
If I don’t take you all of the way
Then go, yeah, go,
But remember

Good love is hard to find
Good love…

 

by Tom Petty

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

Vintage Dreams


 

Time,

a funny grain

that gets stuck

like a piece of

grit between

clenched teeth.

And spitting never helps, so purse

your lips

tightly.

Dreams,

A fickle fable

held in high esteem

as you tell the story

of a wonderful what-if

while the stars loftly

laugh at you in the dark ink blot above.

Grip the grass you lay upon

as the earth tilts just ever so.

Love,

Oh love,

Where for art thou?

Romeo was a fool to seek

a party where all the players

knew their part  while all the

while Juliet had cotton stuffed

in her ears like a silly Teddy bear,

seeing  only your pretty little

mouth move without a

sound.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

My appetite


 

spectactular

She comes home

and does what she wants.

Does what? We don’t know.

She wont say.

But it’s not much,

because she’s cut off and closed away.

Far and in-between the what-if

of her.

She is a melancholy angry mess

I can’t put my thumb on her

and she’d break it if I tried.

But I do, because I can, and she lets me pry;

however reluctantly,

because that’s all I have ever done.

I speak the truth, because lies are boring vicious things.

Even though the truth is often painful

as a motherfucker,

it’s freeing,

casual and a sweetness

rolled into a ball and

swallowed down

that speaks to my

appetite.

Which always

hungers.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

First Day to Last


doubledutch

The hand moves on the clock

as the little girl skips down the block.

Sun up to sun down.

She laughs. and laughs, and laughs,

and sings in her heart.

Until one day the ground comes to meet

her head on.

Now, her trust in gravity is suddenly gone.

Yet, she still skips, but ever so hesitantly.

Just ever so, knowing the cost in her

lack of caution.

Her heart still sings

as she joins in a game

of Double Dutch.

The rope flies as her feet take flight.

But the other girls in their turning

are not nice,

as they

slow the speed of the spin

throwing off the girls rhythm

So once again, gravity brings

blood on a sidewalk and

scraped raw knees,

and a small wall.

On and on her days come and go,

the clock continually ticking

with the gravity of the Universe

never relenting.

Always there; spinning,

as this little girl still

continues to skip

and jump rope.

With that same song

deep within her heart

humming ever so slowly,

just ever so.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Balances in Extremes


balance

I’m sick of percentages.

I’m sick of numbers.

I just want to be.

Balance is a just a concept

It is not the key.

 Am I happy?

Am I sad?

Wait. Hmmm ..Let me do the math.

 I’ll have a slice now please.

Wait. I can only have one?

Who the fuck made that rule?

Maybe I want another piece.

 Extremes seem the norm.

 Let me have my highs

My lows

Let me fuck it up and

make it up to you tonight

by giving you a rose.

 The ratio of me to you and what

you mean to my heart cannot be

measured on scales or by a straight

edge ruler set against my life or

torn apart into segmented precise strips

and weighed in a cart to be sent

to auction and bartered for or bought.

 Balance is an illusion that

Fools embrace to make life

Safe and orderly and put in

its place.

 I want to take that ride

Where nothing and everything is possible

And it’s okay…it’s okay

to be that way.

There is no balancing on the

head of a pin, no precarious perch

I have to lend my life to or

Prescribe to until the very

End.

Just let it be

Unfettered, unshackled

Free.

 

by Philip Wardlow

 

Bloody Ballet


 

 

 

Ballet.png

Bloody Ballet~

She pirouettes

adorned in a dress

of black gossamer,

Spinning with blade

in hand to music only

she hears.

Flame red hair sweeps the air,

flinging outward, as

drops of crimson

drip from the tip

to the cold hard floor;

knives held tight by

delicate fingers.

Her hands move with

the intensity of the allegro.

Alive, brisk, and deadly.

The sharpness of her tools

keep up with her demands

of dissection and delving.

The other dancers

fall before her

as if in silent repose.

Arabesque to glissade,

her strong legs coupe

across the floor,

she cuts and cuts and cuts

and does a sourbresaut

like a cat jumping

onto her final partner

in this ensemble of now

only two.

She seeks his heart

as the point punches through.

Death follows

Yet still it beats

as she holds it,

Still it beats

as she takes a bite.

Still it beats

as she rises from

her grand plie.

and takes a bow

to the crowd

from

center stage.

By Philip Wardlow 2013