In My Own Words – Page 91 – The Poems of David Garlick

How can a word be good are bad?

They are ever blameless.

We the ones that use them,

to express ourselves;

show our feelings, tell a tale.

Hold a mirror to the world

and say. “There you are world.

Is that really you?”

We use them to tell of our feelings.

Yet they have no physical depth.

Mere scratching on a page.

How then do they have so much power?

Silent, flat on the paper.

Beauty, ugly, calm, fear and rage.

Words that dance in the mind

when all the world seems dark.

Words that jump from a pen,

writing of wonders seen.

There are no bad words,

only ugly thoughts.

Though even these are

best expressed in words.

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, March, 1998

Even in the darkness of despair,

love waits like a jewel,

for that first ray of light or love,

to awaken it’s facets

in a blaze of glory.

David. Garlick, Victoria, Summer 1983

You were always loved,

my forbidden child.

Never far from my thoughts,

etched into my grieving heart.

The ache that flooded me

with seas of tears

could never drown my sorrow,

nor wash away my sense of loss.

Now you are found again.

Knowing that you are safe,

fills me with thankfulness

and my tears are joyous.

Remember,

as we wait to be united,

that you were always loved.

My forbidden child.

David Garlick, Victoria, March, 1997

The waves are calling me, their voices gruff and lonely.

Their rolling chorus speaks of far away, of icy rivers and

the swells that sweep the oceans roundly.

They call that ancient part of me that I know not

but which is strong as tides pulled by the moon.

I hear the music of creation, a sighing hiss and

drum beats; heart sounds that talk of first life.

The call is always with me, it pulls my soul.

Only when carried, cradled in her arms,

do I feel true peace.

The warmth of a loving mother holding me close.

The giver of being, the endless wave.

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, January, 1999