The Poems of David Garlick
In a graveyard, a crop of headstones had sprung up, shiny black; epitaphs written in white, with perfect plastic flowers faded by the sun. The new head markers stood beside old leaning ones, gray and pockmarked with age, that staggered drunkenly, pathetic. Unkempt, their tributes of long grasses with bowed heads. Remembered people, forgotten. […]
She runs the winding towpath of my life. Sometimes an instant there and then she’s gone – to reappear, a glimpse around a bend, through stands of plants, the hazing of the years. A fleeting picture, though of long ago, now veiled in time and blurred in falling tears. And though I’m sure, like […]
When we are gone, what would we leave behind? Few rate a statue cast in bronze or build a monument to shout their name. So what do we, the ordinary folk who toil each day to make the two ends meet, expect that those we leave behind will think of us in fleeting memory? […]
I gulped my wine and only knew that it was aged in oak. It’s roughness bit my throat, filling my head with it’s fumes. It dulled my mind. It eased the pain of thoughts that haunted me and so I slept. I sipped my wine. I rolled it round my tongue. And in […]