Tag Archives: relationships

All she Really Wants – A Poem


All she really wants –Sharing
She walks on silent
tip toe to my room
Enters without knocking.
and says nothing as she crawls
in with me beneath the covers.
She is naked and warm
as she lays alongside me.
I embrace her,
arm around her shoulders,
her head nestled in my neck.
One of her naked legs lies
between my own.
Her soft cheek upon my chest
as her hand wraps my  waist.
This is all she wants this night.
Nothing more. Skin to skin
Sharing the same warmth.
I hold her hand in mine
and we simply fall asleep.
by Philip Wardlow 2014

My Heart and the Alien – A Poem


fourchambers

My Heart and the Alien –

I have a four chambered heart much like most everyone else,

I am a nerd in one heart,

a romantic in the next,

a perv in the third,

a  dreamer in the last.

I am fading into your moody blue alien eyes.

as the cold night embraces an already

cold day.

All the chambers of my heart smile

back at you.

And beat with an unnatural warmth not

found on this earth.

You don’t belong here on this world,

and you are soon to leave.

Forever.

For that reason alone, I wish the

the sections of my heart would quiet itself

Each beat in quarter time to a tune

I do not recognize anymore since your

presence came to town.

Please leave soon on the next

spaceship out.

My heart is at war

and may soon burn it

self up.

Take to the stars, and then

and only then, can

my heart look to

them without doubt.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Bad Boy Finished – A Poem by Philip Wardlow


Bad Boy FinishedBB

What is it with the female

persuasion that

clings to the

notion that

danger

is a delicious dish?

You smile, you laugh

as you believe the stories,

the promises, and the kismet

collected in your

nightstand drawer

that you sift through every once

in awhile to tell yourself

that surely it existed,

because a fool is

something you’ve

never been.

Was your pride

greater than his,

to think you

met up to

his

invisible measuring

stick he never

cared to share?

Tell me.

What’s so great about this

bad boy you came to love?

What’s so great about this

fool who dared to hurt someone

such as you.

Tell me he was true.

Tell me he was everything

and I’ll shut the fuck up.

 by Philip Wardlow 2013

Quote of The Week – by Philip Wardlow


Love

Allowing ourselves to let love in, is the hardest thing in life to do.

Well she’s Gone…


I had a 30 day Poem Challenge I was working on for Halloween….but pardon my French…FUCK  it for now…I’ll just write two poems in one day tomorrow instead to make up o for it.

You see, I had to see help my wife get ready to go to AFRICA Saturday for the next 14 days and see her off at the airport….so I guess you could say it’s not your typical day for me.

My mind was not very focused …I didn’t give a shit about a poem I guess…Look below . Would give you give shit about a poem if this woman was leaving you for the  next 14 days?

DSCN1869

I thought not.

So I am in not a give a fuck mode…I went to the bar…had a drink or two .watched the Detroit Tigers play the Boston Red Sox game  because I didn’t want to watch it alone, I needed people around me to see it…AND we WON….

My wife, TISHA, would be so jealous that she missed the game.

Here’s to you babe…gulp.

Btw I got suddenly depressed that I couldn’t share the WIN with her…we see ALL the games together. It’s gonna be hard a series without her.

Okay I’m done whining…just had to say it…

You will be seeing more poems and stuff (hopefully a story soon)   tomorrow.

Ya’ll have a good night…..Go Tigers and enjoy yourself in Kenya babe..

Assumptions of you….things you might not know.


YoungME17
Me at seventeen holding Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

Forgive me,

for I did not know you as I had surmised;

silent, thoughtful,

and smiling in the corner

were merely a rippling

long flowed

downstream.

by Philip Wardlow

When I read any book by an author I like to read the Author’s note and  any forward they may have written. I personally like to get a sense of who this person is that wrote this book. What made them tick…so below are some of the things that might give you perspective into who I am and who I am not perhaps. I don’t know, I will let you be the judge. I for one hate self analysis because we lie to ourselves more than we lie to others. Perhaps you’ll see something in me that I don’t see myself…

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My mother had me when she was 29….my father was 59 at the time…He died when I was 12…He was 72,  the age a grandfather should be.

Often my mother would leave our father at the drop of a hat..taking me & my brothers away…we lived in 18 different homes growing up.

Security seemed to be a liquid state to me as a young child…no solid friends..no real home to speak of…life always in transition.

My mother signed my older and younger brother  up in the Big Brother Volunteer program at the local college…me I did not get one. She believed I was the adjusted one and didn’t need it I guess.

My older brother William participated in sports and played a musical instrument at school.  I think I wanted to but was never asked by my mother, besides money was tight and he got first dibs.

I don’t really like my family.

I love them but I don’t LIKE any of them…in certain ways I am sure they don’t like me. I am not perfect. I have quirks and issues I am sure,  that annoy the hell out of them….your typical dysfunctional family.

I WANT to like them. But as I have gotten my life together in some semblance of normalcy they have still not to one degree or another.  So I AVOID them if I can because its a DRAG.

Am I selfish?  Should I feel guilty? At times I do.  At others, NOT in the slightest…Blood is NOT thicker than water at times.   AT TIMES you need to live for your self and be selfish….I had to learn that was okay.

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I am forty-three…

I hate my age…

And not for the reason you think. I hate it because I really  started going after what I really wanted in my late -30s…which is as you can see is Writing…

I try not dwell on the almost 20yrs of wasted time  of not pursuing it….”OH the things I could have written in that time” flow through my head at the oddest and most inconvenient moments.

But I shut that  annoying voice out and carry on.

Also at forty-three I wish to stay in shape ..so I work out on a constant basis. I have a  sucky metabolism so I must.

I work out to look & feel good for myself,  my wife and any lady passerby on the street who wants to check me out…:)

I didn’t always think I was a handsome person. I kind of had an ugly duckling syndrome. I grew up with a gap in my teeth and because we couldn’t afford  to pay for an orthodontist, so the gap stayed . We also were a poor family that didn’t have the ” cool” clothes or stuff so I was pretty much ignored by other kids at a certain age.

I still have the gap but wear better clothes.  My wife and others have convinced me that I don’t look hideous. I will take their word for it.

Seriously though my confidence has grown over the years with that. (still have trouble with big smiles in pictures..so I look mean or stoic or something half the time in them)

I always like a compliment….who doesn’t.  So go ahead tell me I’m cute I can take it…:)

I think I will wrap it up here for now….perhaps I will share more of myself in later posts….now you know just a little more about me. I am going to go relax and read a good book now.

Picture 024

Somewhere in the Middle – A Poem


Somewhere in the MiddleGoldilocks_

Goldilocks was a high maintenance bitch;

just eat the damn porridge

and get in bed!

Too small,too big

Too hot,too cold

Too hard, too soft.

Big, hot, and hard

and she couldn’t take it.

Never quite right.

Never quite satisfactory.

She was looking for something

perfectly somewhere in the middle.

Golden curls flowed past

shoulders which never knew

beautiful burdens.

Lips laughed at another’s pain

while a hypocrite’s snarl formed

future wrinkles to flourish

into old age.

Blue eyes never saw beyond

the vale which she never

chose to lift.

She was a pretty petite THING,

the ugly cute troll under the bridge,

in her own graceless sort of

way.

Payment was always expected.

The world owed her the world.

Not once pausing….in her thinking…to reflect.

There is no you…only us,

and your somewhere in the middle

of it all just like me.

By Philip Wardlow 2013

Happy Accident – A poem by Philip Wardlow


Happy Accident

Everything and anything

could have been that day,

yet I was there sitting in that place,

in that small little space,

in that time, that moment

plucked with you in

mind.

A hello, a smile, a small question

to catch my eye.

 My attention never wavered…as something,

yes something…told me

there was more  to this meeting,

more…

than just

the  casual.

You were my Happy Accident

if I only chose

to embrace it.

by Philip Wardlow 2013

Pulled – A poem


Pulledlittlegirl

A little girl stands with arms open wide.

How must it feel to be the rope in a

game of tug-o-war?

Win or lose, it’s all the same,

the pain of strained muscles

and sinew running down to the core;

almost ripping.

Braided rope is much stronger than a little’s

girl mind or her soul that must hold to a

reality that slowly unwinds.

Her psyche is soft and pliable and will

if pulled, stretched, and thinned out

to nary a whisper of herself,  will

harden in the cold stale air and become

brittle and slowly break away in pieces for

all her days to come.

By Philip Wardlow 2012