Memories from the Chest of Time

About the Book

As everyone knows, a poem is a fleeting moment in someone’s life . An event , a comment a funny shaped cloud ANYTHING can suddenly happen and then an idea forms in the poet’s mind and something is suddenly born. It might take another day of rewrites before the final effort is considered worth presenting to the friends and family of the poet . Iff the general concensus is favourable then the piece may be presented to the world . The contents of this book are composed of a large number of different “happenings” A lot of the poems have been liked and produced in separate publications but this is the first time all of them have been put together in one place so that the world can like or dislike them . Some are controversial some with tongue in cheek . some serious and a few written after the death of someone very dear , downright miserable . All have been written following a particular happening in the life of the author . To me a poem is a written thought . A fleeting idea put down on paper, a daydream made real .

About the Author

David Gerald Walter Garde David Garde was born in 1933 in Jinja hospital, Uganda, where his father was Chief Surgeon. His father died when David was three and his mother took him back to England and then Dublin to live with her parents. They then spent a few years dodging doodlebugs and bombs. His twelfth birthday was celebrated nationwide, as it was V.E Day. His mother remarried to an officer in the Royal Navy and his half sister was born when David was seven. She became, like most younger sisters, a complete pain in the neck until she got to around sixteen, that was when she began to bring home some very interesting friends!! Preparatory school was followed by four years at Lancing College but was too thick to make university. He did manage to attain his House Colours for running for long distances at high speed ( an irate father with a shotgun not being the reason) He joined the Automobile Association (AA) ( cars not booze) in 1956 as an accountant, got married in1958 and settled down to a happy life, with DIY, gardening and motor racing as hobbies.In 1984 his wife died of cancer and it was then that he turned to poetry as a way to vent his feelings, writing many poems too morbid to be comfortable. Time however is a modifier and humour began to creep in. He retired from the AA after 40 years and now spends his time renovating antique furniture and working with wood . Although not a rabid animal or human rights activist he feels strongly about the harm being done to the planet and also abuse of animals, both furry and human.