Perishable - A poem

Perishable~




My finger, one finger
traces down her temple
over her sweet cheeked smile
eyes lighted
just for me
just for me...
So many emotions
behind that smile for me
I must take each of them that
I discover and put them in their own mason jar
and screw the lid down tight
for safe keeping.
To preserve
what surely will be lost.
For you see, we are all delicate
things.
Perishable.
This environment is not kind
to such fragile creatures.
But I wonder.
What is ever meant to last?
I reach for one of the mason jars
and take it down off upon the shelf,
unscrew its top, and tip
its' contents into my waiting mouth.
I smile and reach for another.




by Philip Wardlow 2015

Krampus Comes - A Dark Christmas Poem

Be ye, young or old,
as a child of nine or ninety-nine
We all look to the magical time
when ol' St. Nick comes a calling,
that jolly grey bearded man with a smile for all.
Traveling down the road  in his horse drawn sled
from  late dusk to early dawn.
The good ones know they'll be visited by him,
adorned and wreathed with gifts from
head to toe.
They will sleep a peaceful slumber, full
of dreams of the bright morning to come
and the presents they so richly deserve
from a year of being so very very good.
I am afraid some may not be so inclined
at this joyous holiday time to partake of
all this festive cheer.
For you see, there are some children who lay deep in their
covers under the shadow of night as it plays
through their cold window pane,
waiting for him to come,
St. Nicks dark brother, the Other,
called Krampus to some.
This dark horned,  hairy tailed, cloven hooved creature
knows your heart of hearts
and all the naughty things you've done.
And he is not forgiving like
good ol' St. Nick.
With bundled birch sticks in hand
he will greet you with a sharped tooth grin
right before he lays into your
skin,
To beat you about the legs and arms,
a sweet painful present for all your
year's sins and wicked charms.
Then if you have been especially bad
and you know who you are.
He will take down his big black
ruck sack from upon  his back
Open it up, grab you up
and stuff you in.
Then quick out the bedroom window
he flies to disappear down the dark road
with you never to be seen
by your family 
ever again.




by Philip Wardlow 2014

My Third Eye - A Poem

My Third Eye -


It's been plucked.
Right out of my head.
There it is, pinched between
that raven's beak.
It has been reclaimed it seems
since I never chose to use it.
An eye always closed.
grows dark and distant.
Best to give it to someone else.
Yet, I feel the pain of its
loss already
My mind, my spirit, my heart
has already dimmed.
I want it back.
I have learned my lesson.
I promise.
I will use it,  give it back...
give it back,
please give it back.
I will use it
just give it back.


by Philip Wardlow 2014

Dust to Dust – A poem

Dust to Dust

A scream escapes me as my body goes to the nether
Disintegrating into grains of dust to fall up into the desolate and
be carried away down a flowing river of no direction.
My mind, my soul, and my will follow into the oblivion after;
each seperate from one another to divide themselves
into a thousand times a thousand
pieces…
My will holds tight to once piece of each as I flow
for I will not let them go
their seperate ways
I will not lose me.
For I am me.
I am me
forever.
by Philip Wardlow 2012

Her Body - A Poem

 

 

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



Raven's Journey - A Poem

Raven's Journey

We cut the night air with wings of black,
we cut the life strings at twilight's blessing.
My brethern and I see far and wide,
for we are many.
There is no escape,
no hole can hide you,
nor disguise
mask a spirit
so foul.
We bring you home to purgatory to sit and
roost in a black shed of despair,
to dwell upon a life where dark leanings
led you to dissolution of a soul that
sought heights they were never meant to fly.
So contemplate, ponder,
wander this dim world between
darkness and light,
and perhaps we shall
return.

By Philip Wardlow

Where I stand....Taking stock of where I'm at in my writing for the year so far

As the title of the blog states, I am taking stock this month. More of a critique and review of myself and the goals I put forth for myself this year in writing to see if I'm track.
Well I started this Blog back in April of this year 2012...and before that in September 0f 2011 is when I really started getting serious with my writing.
I mainly started this Blog back in April to appease various publishers who want you to have a web presence for yourself so possible fans can find you and flock to you and worship you over the worldwide web....still waiting for that to happen.
I have never been great at kissing people's asses in terms of marketing myself....I just wanna write , straight and simple. I am sincere in my writing in my blogpost and of my own opinions of those I follow so I hope that people that came to my blog saw that.
Now I have to stress I don't consider myself a blogger. I just consider this my personal website and I'm your host who wants you to know more about me and what I'm about as a writer and direct you to where you can find my latest writings whether on here, Scribd, Amazon, Smashwords, or hopefully down the line other places around the web from minor to major publishers who pick up my work.
btw... To ring in Halloween - I will be doing a another FREEBIE promotion near Halloween this month for my Horror/Dark Fantasy Novella "Roadkill" on Amazon...so look for that to happen soon!
Back when I started this website I said I would keep you abreast of my progression of becoming a Fantasy Writer/Author . So here is a run down of what I have accomplished thus far from approximately a year ago along with my future goals in writing for the coming year 2013.
What I have written thus far:

Finished Works:

1. Roadkill - Horror/Fantasy Novella 24,000 words (rejected many times by various Publishers and have went on to E-Publish it on Amazon but I am still submitting it to other publishers in the mean time.)
2. Devil in the Details - Urban Fantasy - 3,500 Words (Rejected many times by various Publishers, but still submitting, and have sent to Beta-readers for their critique)
3. Bits and Pieces - Urban Fantasy/Scienc Fiction - 8,000 Words , Entered into major contest and awaiting results. If it doesn't place then I will submit to publishers and show on here as well for your reading pleasure....:)
4. A Fire to Extinguish - Science Fiction - 8,700 Words , Entered into a major contest and awaiting results. If it doesn't place then I will submit to publishers and show on here as well for your reading pleasure....:)
5. Flight through the Forest - Heroic Flash Fantasy - 2,000 - Words, Rejected by various publishers BUT did get accepted by one non-paying publication entitled Quail-Bell Magazin online- I am still submitting to publishers aroudn the web.
6. Witch Hunt - Horror/Humor - 4,000 Words Entering into Halloween Contest at Carnage Conservatory this year.
7. Various Poetry amounting to approx 50-60 poems this year over approx 5,000 words between them all...I have turned some into publishers but as of yet none have been accepted...please check out most of my poetry here on my blog or over at Scribd the self publishing website. You can see most of my Poetry work here.

Current Projects:

1. The Thing under the Bridge - Young Adult Fantasy Novel with a goal of 85,000 Words Currently up to 5,000+words. I am finishing up some outlining and research and then will be diving back into to the writing portion to finish hopefully by End of January 2013.
2. The Grate - Dark Urban Fantasy Story - 10,000 to 17,000 Word Goal currently up 2,000 Words. This will be another Contest entry before Dec 31st, 2012, and then later with submissions to various Publishers. (and will show on here as well)
3. From a Dark Place - Dark Fantasy Story - 10,000 to 17,000 Word Goal currently up to 4,000 Words. This will be another Contest entry for March 31st, 2013 Deadline, and then later with submissions to various Publishers. (and will show on here as well)
I am always brainstorming and have many small ideas as memos in my notes future story ideas BUT first these above must be finished and fleshed out completely..
I am trying to take the advice of a professional succesful writer who said it's best to lose count of how many stories you have written then you know your working at a good pace. I know I am not there yet with that by a long shot but still I definitely want to have quality over quantity any day for my writing.

So I ask you to check out ALL my stuff that has been divulged to you thus far on here and other websites and comment if you feel like commenting on my stuff...it's always appreciated.. THANKS

...and remember my FREEBIE for "ROADKILL" will be coming out soon on Amazon for the Kindle or for free electronic download on your computer....how's that for self-marketing...:)

My Climb
The cold bites into my
hands as I reach for
the rocky outcrop in
my climb to the top.
The blowing wind plays with
me as it shifts from east to west
trying to fool me into shifting
my weight to the wrong position.
The sun shadows my every
move but I give it a smile and
a scowl.
I say fuck you to the elements,
I say fuck you to the gravity
that wants to pull me back
to Mother Earth.
I may be a student to this life I lead,
but you are not my master.
No one claims me.
No one drives me but
myself up this mountain
I climb.
If I ‘m going to fall,
It’s going to be because
I chose to jump.
and fly
free.
By Philip Wardlow

Killer Pumpkins – A poem for Halloween

Killer Pumpkins
Ba dump…ba dump…ba ba dump.
Bump…
Bump…
They roll.
They stroll
down the streets;
orange and angry.
Why do they roll?
Why are they not in bed,
with green leaves as blankets
To cover their orange ripply heads.
I suppose they’re pissed off
for being left behind
in the patch.
What the fuck was wrong
with them, they ask.
It’s Halloween and they’ve
waited long enough.
Knives in hand with
grins carved in,
ready to show
the little tricker-treat bastards
a real killer
pumpkin.
So they roll
and they stroll
down the street.
Ba dump.

My Beautiful Dead Girl – A Poem

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

The Dark Tree - A poem

It swayed and creaked in
the wind.
The black silken crows
gave a queer semblance of
life to the tree,
Its bare branches covered
with a multitude perched like
the clinging of leaves.
It swayed and it creaked
and spoke of its sins,
Dark feathers fluttered,
as if to fool a passerby’s eye
that life still dwelt in the trees dead limbs.
None made a sound, not a caw
not a screech, no utterance did they speak;
for you see they had been given a task long ago,
to bear silent witness to the migration
of lost souls.
For no man,
should ever die alone.
So they perched and they preened
as the body swayed and creaked
on the rope below.
by Philip Wardlow

I have always loved the author who could take a character and make you love/hate him or her and then at the end of that story actually make you care if they triumphed, lived, loved , or died.
I am currently in the process of becoming just that type of author (for now you must label me a writer) and this is my first step into marketing myself to the people who might be reading my stuff one day. I hope to hone my craft in the coming months and years through blood and sweat (not to many tears). I hope to toll with bloody fingers to pen and paper and the constant punching of the keyboard. I wish the fantastic to come to life and breath as I dredge them up out of the lighted but darks depths inside my head and put them to paper for your enjoyment and my own of course.
In the coming months, years I will keep you up to date on where I am at in the submission process with all my stories…these things take a while but I’m always pessimistically optimistic about the events in my life…
I will try to keep you entertained with some writing of my mine from the past and recent present, such as some experimental stories, flash fiction, excerpts from novellas or novels I may be working on or have finished with and sent on to publishers for submission. I will also show you some of my various poetry which may entail aspects of fantasy, horror, and the occasional dark matter in life to philiosophical observations of every day life that hope may all be interesting, or thought provoking hopefully.
My style is a work in a progress but I’m getting there. Hope you enjoy!
Thanks for listening…and watch out for the shadows in the corners ..things like to hide there and just stare at you.

Until this site gets off the ground check out my other blogging site under my name:  www.philipwardlow.com or my Scribd Submission section: http://www.scribd.com/PhilipWardlow/info