Tag Archives: strength

Something Wiccan this way comes


 

“Do as ye will as long as ye harm none”
Maid, Mother, and Crone
all intone.
Walk these woodlands,
inside and out
letting your spirit
thrive from bone, to eye, to mind.
This natural world is your playground
so play proud, head tall, breasts out
Be divine and in turn know divinity.
The hunt is on in fair woods,
Strength is foraged first, followed by Beauty unmarred,
then comes Power in the will coupled with Compassion,
Mirth as you dance the fire, Reverence as the trance
takes you in Honor of all that is known and unknown
as you finally kneel in Humility
to your Goddess
conveying nature’s kiss upon
each of your sisters
to seal the spell bringing
to bear the Cosmos
within the inscribed circle
upon this Earth you now
dwell.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

 

 

 

Amongst the Stars


 

 

A deep brackish blue light filtered in through the curtains next to my bed crawling across my closed eyes. I let my head remain, resting on my pillow. Perhaps I could fool the world in to believing I was still yet asleep. Nudges came in thunderous pains, lightening strikes to the brain. I knew I was awake, that was enough.

In all night diner, I found my hands full of a ceramic cup filled with coffee topped with cream in the design of a mountaintop I had yet to climb. Desires awoke in me, spoke to me; whispered really. They never yelled. Never. Except to run. I hated them all. Weaklings all of them.

I slapped myself hard then. Sitting there in the crowded diner, coffee in hand with my mountain in a cup.

I yelled out loud, “I am not a ghost!”

Then I left a dollar tip and got up and left to stares and murmuring all around. I was their talk of the day.

I broke into a run down the sidewalk. If anything I was going to own the running. Fuck the illusions, fuck the dream. Fuck the quicksand of doubt. Ever forward…running.

Just find the rhythm of me. Left, right, left, right…pick them up…put them back down. Running towards it, not away…no matter the pitfalls.

“Viva la Vida” played as I ran by a outdoor bar, then I heard an old woman humming “Cest Le Vie” as she fed the pigeons in the park.

Well fuck, the Universe seemed to be noticing me. For good or bad? I guess we’ll see

As my feet suddenly left the ground to go running amongst the stars.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Down the line


I may slip
in my stride
but I try.

I may even fall off the wall
with all various sorts of cracks
in need of repair.
But I try.

I will apologize but once.
feel sincere in my remorse
on its reckoning
but I shall not, will not
lay down on the tracks
as you push the throttle forward
on the engine as the
train of my destruction

I will simply wave instead,
as you pass by and disappear
down the line
and I will not look back.

by Philip Wardlow

Sally forth I say!


 

 

It’s a glorious morn for battle on the field of gold.

So be bold!

Attack the day lest you fall prey

to marauders at your gate.

Go forth and grind them to grizzle

pick your to teeth with their bones

while finding rapture in hearing their moans

Push! Push! Push !

through the tall grass.

Head low!  Be wary but

Go! Go! Go!

For its been said, that fortunes

go to the ones who are bold.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Why I,  am the boldest of the bold can’t you

see!

So where be my fortunes, where be my wench

to console my pains, and give me succor

this day?

Where indeed.

Think not too hard on your gains not gotten

lest you fall ill to them before you

meet them my friend.

Be not so arrogant! Be not so aggrieved!

For any  man’s head can leave a

neck with but a peck of a well honed axe

unseen.

No man’s future is certain nor ordained

by the vicious gods who play

their crap game

in the dark corners of your fated life.

Wise words, so heed them

or only peril shall follow

all your days.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Beautiful Dead Girl


Marionnette

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haunted eyes

wrapped in misery.

You are already dead,

so why should you feel pain?

 

Pain is your purgatory

little girl, a grand gift

from scales that can never

be balanced in your favor.

 

Haunted eyes they may be,

but I see defiance, strength,

lingering deep, always

ready to rise to the surface.

 

Never did death look so beautiful

A perfection in form chiseled

from stone beaten up and torn

down by the elements.

 

You wear your cloak well,

dark and tear stained, wrapped

tight around a body that

still flies free.

 

You are my beautiful dead girl.

with cold hands clenching tight around

a warm heart

that beats just for you.

by Philip Wardlow

Nothing…yet Something


 

 

Milkyway

 

Nothing,

that’s what I feel like sometimes;

Nothing.

Nothing, no where, no how

as

I see a distant sun of vibrant gold

cradled in a bowl of purple and pink

on a horizon I imagine I will never reach,

It reminds me that I’m Nothing

and yet Something to even to be allowed

to see.

A nighttime sky, filled to bursting

with a voluminous marble of a moon

within a black bag of stars I can’t begin to sift through.

Yet I do, and that Something feels cool

on fingertips never finding purchase.

I know Life is a tangled sphere of yarn

wrapped around an onion

spinning and dancing in

an ordered rhythm with other crying onions

as they bump butts.

Nothing and Something,

A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl,

yet readily given by her, for I am no thief;

soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting.

Nothing exists, not even

me in that moment,

and yet Something.

Clues and misdirection, blind alleys

and closed thoroughfares,

leashed to Nowhere.

Yet Somewhere will be the end when

the journey’s through

Humbled and awed

but at other times

petulant and angry.

I stomp my foot inside my soul.

I am tired of feeling like Nothing

Something sounds good.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

Delicate Strength


A Delicate Strength~Delicatestrength

 

If I called her delicate
She might well give me
a dark eyed glare
and haul off and try and hit me
Then I would laugh
and push her down
Arms restrained
She would fight
Oh yes, she would fight
Tendons taunt
against muscles she
couldn’t hope to overcome
But I feel her strength
a quiet marching strength
in her soul.
It pours off her in everything
she says and does.
But she has a delicate
nature
For her heart has been strained
Pained beyond belief at times.
Yet she hangs on
through that strength at
her core
I feel it as she struggles against me
As I smile my mischievous smile
and get her to smile along with me
in that struggle
And let her win…

 

by Philip Wardlow

Warrior Woman – A Poem


WarriorWoman

 

Warrior Woman ~

Ah yes, she be a beauty…

never a finer woman did grace the land.

From the tip of the toes to the top of that pretty little head.

Ah yes, she be beautiful indeed.

But you would be mistaken my good sir at trying to take advantage of one such as her

whether in  body, mind or soul,  as she would send all three of yours  straight to hell for the

devil to collect his due.

Flaming  red be the color of her hair,   burning much like her heart that beats in a warm bosom that knows no peace, nor solace in the silence between the madness that is always sure to come after.

Every turn of her blade is poetry…every dance a death sentence to her partner.

Care to be clever, to compel her to be contrite,  or woo her with wicked words

and she shall simply cut your tongue out.

Yet, she hopes, endures for that day,  when a compliment to her nature crosses her well worn path, fights through all her misgivings,  deep protected fears, and wrestles her to the ground, flings her blade from her hand and drives the darkness away.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015