Tag Archives: time

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, Poetry/Quote of the Week

The First Time

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love
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

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Live Fiercely

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Live fiercely while time abounds,
and stop biting at the bonds
of which you think constrict
you, for they don’t for a life lived properly
and wisely
constructed in the spending.

Hold time’s hand as if as a friend, love
every nature of it’s passing and it shall
slow down and comfort every second
of your days.

Create a world uniquely all yours,
from the infinitesimal to the grandiose
inside or without,  to implode
or explode into a world of your
own making.

Sluggish temptations will always pull at the
the very fabric of you, a quicksand
to drown, a meandering path to muddle,
entropy to trap, as Order becomes
undone and Chaos catches you.
Sleep not with Chaos long no matter how
charming her bed is.

Revel in the importance of your life
love, love, love,
yourself and others
Roll around in that word love
like a dog playing in a
pile of fall leaves,
just being.

Never fear the outcome for a life
you have lived fiercely.

by Philip Wardlow October, 2020

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Time, Tenacity and the Reason Why.

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Moments flit
mounting to minutes,
then hours,
Days cycle
as the sun sets
and I’m left
bereft.
Wasted, are the stars
that twinkle.
Wasted, is the moon
illuminating.
No inspiration wrought.
Looking deep,
a hole hides
where once
a solid space
did reside.
Why the vacancy?
Oh, if only the
tick tock
of time could
halt, or
grind down to
near a trickle
then perhaps
my soul would have
the tenacity
to finally
awaken
once
more.

Philip Wardlow 2018

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Vintage Dreams

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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

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The Rabbit Hole

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A flop-eared fuck of a rabbit ran on by,

tripping over me in his haste.

Never caring a wit in his bumping.

As if the air I occupied was insubstantial

and not worthy of one  of such good taste.

I hadn’t noticed the rabbit hole

 But he just dove

on in.

Fuck that rabbit. I didn’t know

who he was.

Or why he wore a tweed vest

yet his little bunny ass was left to stick

out below.

I just saw a dark hole in the earth.

with nothing but a deeper darkness

within.

Fear clutched my throat

Words choked as I tried to yell

“What the hell?”,  at him.

Gurgling.

Leaving me burgling for time

trying to figure out my

life.

All the whys and wherefore’s

and whozits.

While the background receded,

the foreground contracted.

Leaving me in the tight middleground

of discontent, what-if, and

disillusionment.

I hugged myself tight, but it wasn’t cold,

that was just my soul

falling to pieces

as I tried to hold my self together

while I flaked away.

Go Rabbit, go!

You have the right of it.

You know what time it is; always.

You know.

So  go down that Rabbit hole

because you’re a fucking rabbit

and you know what to expect.

I wish I could go

but

I just fucking won’t fit.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry/Quote of the Week

What’s to come?

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 Experts say humans have been on this Earth the length of only a fingernail in time, while the creatures long past, are dead and gone, extinct now forever. Yet they  lived a length a time measured from our shoulders all the way down our arms to the extension of our fingers to where we now sit and reside alive…. those creatures had their run for eons …we are just beginning ours….who’s to say what  comes after our own run is done.

I wonder what book the T-Rex read from telling him he was the greatest thing to walk the earth?

hugtrex

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

A Do Over?

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timetravel

If you could,

set a coordinate in time and space.

Push a button. Click…

and in a flick

of an eye lash or

the time it takes

for a humming bird’s heart

to beat just once.

You’re there.

Beside yourself, in yourself

telling that old new person,  who’s just

starting to breath life into their lungs,

To Think.

You would hesitate, that younger state.

For an instant, in listening to the older.

But, you would still follow through;

for their is no do over, no amending.

no take backs.

Time is a tricky bastard, giving and taking

in all the wrong places.

So you float, waiting.

Anxiety of the day always building.

Until it all unravels to reveal

the mystery of those moments in obvious hindsight

as pieces of you  fall through an aperture

to allow only minute grains

for you to view.

Bit by bit, little clues to life why

a person such as you or I might exist.

So travel ever forward, explore.

And try just a smidgeon to listen

to that future self when they

tell you not to fret.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

I will

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Art by Pino Daeni
Art by Pino Daeni

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

 

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Still only

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Still only~

Time will eat  at you while you’re still alive  picking your bones clean like a vulture, swallowing you in big gulps but with no droppings to follow later.

Every molecule of you will be forgotten in history…every thought…every nuance to what was you …gone…simply gone.  One day.

Just the ask the dinosaur’s bones that litter the world. What were their names? What great sonnets did they compose? What grand edifices did they erect in honor of their forgotten gods? We are but dinosaurs, waiting for our grand event to expire us.

I say that’s all fine and good, but could we at least grow to be as smart and civil as the dinosaurs that came before us?

Let’s finally leave our caves  once and for all. We discovered fire and the wheel a long time ago but really have made no progress since.

Perhaps a fingernail’s thickness only I imagine. A lot for us I am sure in the short time on this planet…but still only a fingernail.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Caveman