In My Own Words – Page 111 – The Poems of David Garlick

“It’s not late,” she said, at three am!

Lets try one more place, to hear

the Mariachis play another song.

Another song of home and love.

Another song to sting an eye.

Another song of love that’s lost

then found again; as time goes by.

She sat there, bright eyes all aglow.

Living with us those precious minutes

that spice a life, make it real.

“Just one more song.” she said.

Please just one more love song;

of my country, Mexico.

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, March, 1998

For Angela

He loved me but he left me,

now I am all alone.

He did not seek another

or even leave our home

but his mind left and with it went

the memories that we shared.

He loved me but he left me

and I am all alone.

I love him but he left me,

now he is all alone.

I see him but he knows me not,

he’s near but also gone

and who may know his inner thoughts

or understand his mind.

Except to know he knows me not

and he is all alone.

We loved each other dearly,

now we are all alone.

we lived our lives,

the best we could,

we liked each other well

but now although I see him

he sees me not at all.

And sadness fills my eyes with tears,

for we are all alone.

David Garlick, Victoria, July 1991

When the time comes take my ashes,

scatter them upon a hill,

where the tall trees greet the morning

and the setting sun as well.

Where their warm and heavy branches

fill the air with heavenly scent.

There to lie at peace with all things.

There to find eternal rest.

In Summers scented comfort,

beneath a canopy of trees.

Where Fall rains will gently hide me

with a covering of leaves.

Then Winters tiny snowflakes

protect me from freezing winds.

I’ll be waiting for the Spring Time

to come forth and bloom again.

David Garlick, Victoria, September 1993

For “Nana”

My mother said. “Don’t use those words,

or I’ll wash your mouth with soap!”

So do you know a tasty bar to use?

There are so many types, it seems

and everybody laughs at me

when I explain what I am looking for.

I’ve tried a few like ‘Pears’, of course

and all the other fruity ones

but they all taste horrible, in a frothy sort of way.

A pretty lady in a shop was very helpful

but it seems, she too has a boy at home

so perhaps I shouldn’t trust the things she says.

Maybe I can use the words,

that big boys say at school.

If I can only find a way to make

them not seem bad at all.

For after all I hear grown-ups say

these words all the time.

When cross or hurt or just to make

it seem worse than it really was!

It’s very hard, being small,

but with a head that’s full of space,

to learn and learn all kinds of things

even if not all of them;

are what a mother likes to hear!

David Garlick, Nantwich, UK, June 1999