The Poems of David Garlick
Old as a bottle of vintage wine, young as the taste on your tongue. Old as the river that swoops to the sea, young as the brook in the hills. Old as the mountains that touch the sky, young as their dusting of snow. Old as the gem won from the ground, […]
They must be Gods, I thought. How else did they learn so well, while I could not remember anything? They must be gods, I thought. How else could they write, write, write in halls, where floors squeaked and sun beams danced the motes of dust? The scratch of pens on paper. They […]
Saccharin, self-righteous judgments. Oozing piety and risk less clichés of urban prophets. Never challenged beyond their narrow benign lives. Wrapped in soft comfort of ignorance. Swaddled in shotgun educations. Blinded by lack of experience. Yet noisy in condemnation of other races and countries. Scratch them win nothing, for there is nothing there of worth. […]
Sometimes when dreaming, I run. Gently enjoying the beauty of the land and that youthful ease and grace, once found. No tiring muscles or loss of breath, just flowing movement and cool air. The pace so easy that feet fly – in great strides, devouring the miles that escape beneath my heels. The […]