Tag Archives: woman

Floating


 

Her world is a private
dream
a myriad complex thing
juxtaposed within
pains that run deep
like a slice with
a wicked knife
into the fruit
of a well worn life
that drips it juices
onto the floor
where others tread
its sticky mess.

Yet she floats.
Always she floats,
above and apart
she floats.
Wrapped in a delightful
viscous vicious
violent delicate
sustaining way.

She floats.
And I,  can simply only
wonder when, she will
ask me to join her.

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

Landscapes of You


 

 

Landscape

Landscapes of You

 

As I rise at dawn

and look out upon this landscape

It’s got nothing on you babe.

The mountains can’t touch your heights which I climb

In the morning light and the fertile valley

below is where I’ll go to set up my campfire

and have a weeny roast every night.

Let me fall down hard against your snowy soft skin and make

snow angels with my tongue as I go deep in.

The rivers and streams that meander around me can’t

get any wetter than your bed as I lie at your shore .

Maybe I’ll take a swim in your deep lake and paddle

down to the waterfall where I hear it’s a gusher.

The pinks and reds that I bring out in your cheeks and lips

as you gyrate those hips below

stir the four winds to blow

me away off this wind swept peak

that I cling to with barely a fingertip.

I’ve packed lots of rations, trail mix, water and

peanut butter cups to keep my energy up.

My hike is not over by far, because I’ve got many trails to cover.

I can’t leave any one spot untouched or ignored,

The beauty of this mysterious place I call

paradise must be explored.

The smell of clover and dandelions pervade my senses

as I drink your sweet scent in.

The nearness of you is nature in its most erotic essence

bottled in the pores of

your skin.

 

By Philip Wardlow

Hug me


hugs
Artwork by Christian Ward

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hug Me~

 

A woman will always want  a hug more than a man

but a man will always need a hug more than a woman.

Neither knows why.

She will want his presence close; his arms and his heart.

In that very moment as he embraces,

he will be her harbor for all the days

that he holds her.

He will need her light and the one

she sees in him when he cannot.

Through that embrace, her light will envelop

him and strengthen him for all his days

to come.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haikus of the Sword


One Breath~SwordB

One breath forming calm

Eyes tight on adversary

Bound energy flies

 

 

 

 

Beguiling Death~SwordC

Dragonfly wings cut

Up, down, left, right superbly

Entrancing your death

 

 

 

Young Sword~YoungSword

Childish eyes unveiled

as a keen blade drawn for blood

Fire heart goes cold.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Wee hours of the Night –


Jeans pulled down to her ankles…Hours
Knees up
Thighs slightly parted
She thinks of him in the
wee hours of the night
as she touches lightly between
her legs.
The sweet spot where he wishes to go,
to live if only for a moment.
To take her like she wants to be taken
in her secret room
as she lies on her bed
To give him what he wants;
all of her.
She opens her legs wider
to let him take what he wants
she turns over and presents her
ass.
She wants all his gifts.
His hard slap on her is the sweetest
reward she could receive from him as
she pushes her ass upward
to meet each strike of his palm sooner.
She wants it so badly, as she lies in
his bed…
She calls out his name as
her fingers move inside herself
opening and filling her
as he would in the wee
hours of the night
if there.
Written by PhilipWardlow 2016

Fill up my time fish


 

 

goldfish

 

 

Fill up my time fish~

 

She said,  “Fill up my time

while I wait for something

that I can finally keep

to drop on by.”

 

He said, “You’ll do,

you beautiful thing you,

now hurry , spread your legs as

my want of  you is  almost up.”

 

You are my novelty for the day,

the week, the month, the year,

as my desires

run their phases like the moon

runs its course across the skies

a hundred thousand million times.

You didn’t know it, but you did.

You hoped, but you still did.

Our original sin, over and over again.

That seems to be half the fun.

 

Are we all hobbies? Habits?

Frivolous fantasies and disastrous

desires run amok?

Dear affections that grab us like

a child holding tight to a goldfish

in a brand new bowl.

We all know what  happens to that fish.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Kissing you Violently


Kiss
Kissing you Violently ~
This land is vast,
a kingdom of twists
and false turns,
full of dragons, goblins, trolls,
and all kinds of viciousness.

You are lost in it,
meandering to and fro.

Bogs, quicksand, dark woods
and sweeping storms rage
as you huddle in a hole
in a hollowed out stone hill.

Yet you travel on, for the storms
always settle for just a slice of time,
just a slice,
same as the monsters which stop in their
roaming, if only a bit.

Enchantments abound,
seemingly fair of nature,
always to turn to a curse
soon revealed,
as the invisible ropes
binding you deep on a pedestal
force a lucid sleep,
of nightmares you cannot place.

Knuckles bloodied
against a stone wall which
will never fall.

I punch.

See? Nary a chip.

So I climb…

Breath spent in exhaling
as lungs heave
with exertion
at muscles spent,
screaming with fatigue.

I find you sleeping.
Fitfully.

A beautiful wretch of a woman
The only kind I would
ever seek.

A Prince of Fools I may be
perhaps, but still a
knowing knight am I in the end,
for only a violent kiss
will bring you back to
life.

Not one of wishes
and hopes and dreams
or even love,
but one of a passion
to rival a thousand
wants and deeds.

And as I look to you
I am full of
violence
this day.

As I bend down
and kiss you violently
by Philip Wardlow 2015

Monkey Girl


A thousand times a thousand,
I could tell her she’s beautiful
but her hands are pressedlarge_girl-monkey
against her ears,
as she hums
a silly tune.
I could smile her way
with sweet attention
eyes falling all across her
body in every which direction.
She’s blind to me,
as her hands are held tight
against eyes already veiled.
Tell me you feel something
Anything…a single thought
a broken dream…a wish unfulfilled
a desire drowned.
But you just grimace me a smile
and casually place your hands
over those luscious lips
that have never truly been kissed.
Oh, my little Monkey Girl

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Her Body –


reading

Her Body

I noticed her body after her beguiling faced walked in.

It spoke and sang to me with a swaying of heavy hip action.

If only I could dial back my desire then the stars would align,

but the god given geometry wrapping around that frame

would make a chaste man wonder why he went insane

as he saw curves creating arcs upon arcs

intertwining to manifest into shapes

only nature could conceive.

In the lovely female form

there’s a weakness

in me because as she

walks across the room

I continue to gaze while my

rapture increases knowing her body is

hidden beneath thin layers that only deepen

the mystery of a softness that is surely there.

What if I were to simply let my hands wonder

where they wish to go, to peek lightly with

fingertips in a caress down her naked back

with all intent to travel on if my bold

desires permitted such an act.

I know my place, but she

will learn my charms,

she will see my face,

and look deep into

my eyes and

wonder if

tonight I

am her

fate.

By Philip Wardlow