In My Own Words – Page 65 – The Poems of David Garlick

Alone, in this place of peace,

silence drifted through my mind.

Snow flakes in the wintertime,

blossoms in the early spring.

Koi mouthed rings upon the lake.

White crane waited on one leg

in the image of the temple’s –

gold reflection on the water.

Under willows, head bowed low,

mossy banks soft to the hand.

Quiet fills this pleasant sanctum,

echoes of stark rocks that breath.

David Garlick, Japan, December, 1995

The fly –

against a window pane,

buzzed and buzzed.

The ‘force field’ of the glass

trapped it, puzzled it.

How to escape? How to live?

There was a shadow.

The shadow was dangerous.

Panic!

I had been drawn to the window

by the buzzing of the fly.

It was only a small fly,

hardly worth the effort

of deploying the Zapper!

I watched the tiny fly.

It was terrified

but continued to

try to escape.

It didn’t have a chance.

What is a fly’s life worth?

To me very little

but it was alive and

trying to escape.

How amazing a creature!

How aware of its being.

How beautifully made,

How incredible a life form!

Look at the wings.

No, no, look at a leg.

No look at a joint,

could I make one?

No, I could not do even that,

let alone animate it.

Instead, I freed it to the garden.

David Garlick, Sidney, July, 2009

It was a long time ago,

since I had last seen them.

Then I had been almost four

and many years had

fluttered and flown away,

leaving me old and forgetful.

Now there are grandchildren

older than I was then.

Visited, there they were.

Blue under a tall shrub,

by the wooden gate

that led into the

garden of a small house

on Peadmont Avenue.

Where snails had crawled

and I was placed in the bird bath,

for putting pebbles in

the bird’s clean water!

Forget-me–nots?

I have not forgotten them.

David Garlick, Sidney, November, 2007

It was wet walking Shadow today

but that’s all right we enjoy rain.

All the leaves were dripping

and the trees, every now and then,

shook their thick coats,

like wet dogs do, we laughed.

I glanced up through the trees

and the clouds, grey and sullen,

glared at me through branches.

Were they up or were we?

Who knows?

every one on Earth thinks

that they are up; Umm!

I glanced down at a tree’s base.

Finger roots spread out, a basket

of hands clutched at the earth,

over and under like a huge mat.

All the trees were doing

the same thing, curious!

Then a tree creaked at me.

“ We are holding on.”

“To what, I asked?”

“ To the world, you fool,

If we don’t hold on we

may fall into the sky!”

“What about me then

and Shadow as well?”

“You don’t matter much,

in fact we could well do

without you lot,

messing up our world!”

Perception is a wondrous thing!

David Garlick, North Saanich, September, 2009