In My Own Words – Page 24 – The Poems of David Garlick

The buzzing of bees

in Alpine meadows.

Gentian and Queen Ann’s Lace,

Heather and Huckleberry.

An aroma of crushed herbs

and tree scents

that bring back pleasant memories.

Fall air, warm and golden,

harvested fresh in the early spring.

Aged through the long days of summer

to a vintage of perfection.

Air, amber in texture,

that permeated the very soul

The tinkle of stone bells,

in an icy brook.

The sound of thunder,

in a waterfall.

The whisper of lace,

in the billowing spray.

The silence of tears,

on a rocky face.

In snowy majesty

the mountain soared.

Safe in it’s ageless sky.

Unmoved by mere mortals

who stand in awe,

whispering it’s name,

witness to it’s power

and for a few short moments

sharing part of it’s eternity.

David Garlick, Seattle, September, 1990

In the spring before the blooms –

dress the trees in bridal gowns;

stark the branches in the sky,

cold wind and rain to chill the soul.

Pretty though the blooms may be,

still I love those branches bare,

for the promise that they hold,

for the joy that they will bring.

So I sit, wrapped in my thoughts

and a warm and quilted coat.

To allow my mind to drift –

with the white clouds overhead.

So white cloud where will we go

untill the sun can warm a face?

Mine to glow away from pale

yours to fade into the sky.

Was that a whisper that I heard?

Where you really calling me?

Yes I saw steam in my mind,

rising vapor, making clouds.

Steam is rising from a stream.

Water bubbles in a brook.

Rocky ledges, ferns and flowers,

water fall and deep blue pool.

So I strip and standing pale,

like a candle in a shrine.

Wash away the cities grit.

Cleanse my body and my mind.

Then under the steaming fall,

pounded by the warming sheet.

Clouds of vapor wrapped around;

hide my body from the wind

Now I slip into the pool.

Deep and dark it takes me in.

Enveloped now, my mind is free

once again to fly away.

Happy cloud, high overhead,

drifting in the bright blue sky.

Happy me down here below,

floating in this warming pool.

Tranquil thoughts, away I glide,

rising upwards to the clouds.

Blossom blooms and I am one

with my nature and my soul.

David Garlick, Victoria

Walking wooded paths, I think of you,

far away in time or distant place.

Perhaps a dear friend or

acquaintance reaching out

across the fading years.

How clearly I see you on

that dappled trail.

Each thought a drifting leaf.

each year a bend of path.

The kind sun warms my back

and I smile with you.

Each cloud, a chill or tear

that stings an eye.

Did I forget to reach out

across cold time?

Did I neglect to say

those small or precious words

that sooth neglect or hurt.

I have been selfish.

Bound up in my own cares.

Senses blunted by flying seconds,

forgetful of precious moments –

shared in sunny days gone by.

Here is my hand; the words I write.

Here is my heart that beats slowly.

Each pulse a pause in shared time,

even if not in shared space.

Come walk again with me.

The rain will fade to mist.

The sun will warm the hand,

that once you held.

We will brave the years,

they are but the passing of time

which ticks on for ever.

Come smile with me, my friends.

David Garlick, Sidney, August, 2009

She makes a lovely cup of coffee, does the lass.

Sweet as honey, rich with Carnation cream.

My time is short but I’ll keep that warm memory

held close, golden taste against the cold.

Each sip scalding on my tongue,

burning down my eager throat.

Each taste jerks a hidden thought,

living behind my eyes, deep in my mind.

David Garlick, Victoria, June, 1996