The Poems of David Garlick
I dreamt of a tear, on a face in a park, a face that watched passers by. It witnessed young lovers. Welcomed their children. It helped those about to die. The face in the park was hewn in stone and that tear would never dry. David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, January 1997
The Oleanders smelled so sweet as home from school we, hand in hand, walked and talked of childish things and felt our friendship grow to love. Then jeers and laughter spoilt our dream. To love was shameful, not for us – who were just children in a world where cruelty was part of life. […]
Petal soft, the feel of youthful skin, warm, pliant, sensuous to the mind, the thrill of human purrs, in reply. Exchange of subtle moves, lips that meet as if by magic, in their welcome. The years swing round the warming sun. Magic is still there despite our age. Eyes tell loving lies to pleasant dreams, […]
Petal soft the feel of youthful skin, warm, pliant, sensuous to the mind, thrill of human purrs, in reply. Exchange of subtle moves and lips that meet as if by magic, in their welcoming. The years turn round the warming sun. The magic is still there but so is gravity. Eyes tell lies to finger […]