In My Own Words – Page 41 – The Poems of David Garlick

Bikini on a towel,

on a rock,

near the sea shore,

or

Sun auburn hair,

on a rock,

in a stream?

Splendidly brief,

in the sun

like a sculpture,

or

Alone in a forest,

butterflies,

fill the air?

Both beings of beauty,

one of show,

one of substance.

Need I tell you which one,

is the one I would choose?

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, February, 2000

Autumn leaves are falling.

Summer rained as well.

Spring was a washout!

Winter next, Oh hell!

David Garlick, Sidney, August, 2007

We will miss him

always cheerful.

always pleasant,

always fun.

Always attentive,

always understanding.

Always generous,

A Gentleman.

David Garlick, Victoria, November, 1994

For Mugs Townshend and family

How hard it is to let them grow,

from boisterous childhood to surly youth.

From cute and clean, to teen revolt.

From children, to budding adulthood.

How hard it is.

How hard it is to let them go.

Like ghosts the memories of tiny feet,

shrill voices and waterfalls of laughter –

thrill our minds ear, shrinking time.

How hard it is.

How hard it is to let them know,

that they are free to spread their wings.

Their time to fly is here.

Theirs is the right to be them selves.

How hard it is.

How sweet it is to watch them soar

to heights beyond our own small dreams

and with it all, I’m glad to see,

the same kind nature of their early years.

How sweet it is!

David Garlick, Victoria, October, 1992