Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:


Anywhere and everywhere the enemy hides throughout the world,

They are not counted as their number is growing in silence.

They are of sick minds as they plot, attack, and steal lives from family,

Their belief that they are heaven bound for killing is a false belief, a fantasy.

Terrorism of any kind deserves a train ride to hell as it has no color,

Something has been so wrong in this world since the dawn of man.

Rise up!, together we need to stand on our feet, join hands around the world,

It is a really scary thing but we are all in trouble, dangerous times are here.

A story not so pretty, the sun still shines on our everyday but we must see it all,

In between the beauty and our everyday dreams remains echoes of a worlds screams.

Never can we allow ourselves to be fooled by…

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By myself with the wind in my face,

Watching out towards the horizon, i sit in the sand.

Above, only sky that has not an ending to my eyes,

Birds that fly, drift silently on by.

The waves are a sight, crashing on the beach,

Who would be the man whom sat here once and dared to dream.

To sit in the sand, warm to the touch of my feet,

Thoughts fill my wandering mind, what things do all of this teach.

To sit in the sand, peaceful is where i am,

Memory’s of times, all that i did in life,

Felt from inside.

Keith Garrett



Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:



There we are together standing as the sun disappears,

Only a lonely tree keeps us company, we are alive!.

Many colors rest in the open sky as day turns to night,

We stand together yet apart with our own vision of life.

Through different eyes, do we see the same things,?

As only our thoughts create a separate way of seeing them.

We are two souls occupying the same earth, dreaming, wondering,

Watching the world in two directions, seeing a different way, imagine.

Keith Garrett


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Covers the sea, crashes against the land with force,

Since the beginning of its creation has not sat still.

Touches life as it moves, like the ticking of time,

Never stops, never remembering where it’s been.

It does not think, there is no thought out plan,

Although each day and every moment, a routine just as man.

It can be touched, felt, you can never take hold,

Power and energy as it never grows old.

Not a memory has the sea, friendly or mean,

Its magic and mystery free to be,


Keith Garrett


Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

It was early morning i do recall, many sunrises and sunsets ago,

To bed early that night before tomorrow would surely make a change.

Morning was morning as he opened the door to a new day, heading for work,

Like a dream those days past don’t seem real anymore, faded and foggy.

Last time i saw him i was a boy and he was going off to earn a living for the day,

Never again would he be seen by me or i by him as day by day time would change.

Seasons would go by, turning Into years as one day I would become as he was, a man,

I have existed in this world without him for most of my life, I have outgrown him in age.

I remember his time here with me, It was very short but he had his own life before mine,

His time…

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It’s me again, many thoughts swirl in my head,

For this life you gave to me, i am most grateful.

I wake each morning to the rain or shine,

You’ve let me walk your worldly creation, i’m still alive.

I forget at times and also for granted take,

This life is precious, there’s much good in the world.

A thank you dear lord for the things given to me,

The wonders of this land at times are hard to see.

I’ll try to remember that fragile is man,

Speak to you soon, i keep trying to understand and be the best i can.

Keith Garrett






Many lifetimes ago their lived a youthful man,

He worked hard, he did all that a man can.

On his farm, awoke when the rooster said,

Watched the sunrise, breakfast began his day.

A simple man whom worked hard on his land,

Crops in the field, a little money in his hand.

He had a wife with a pretty smile,

She was there when the day was done,

As he walked in from the setting sun.

Supper on the table, tired was this man and wife,

A warm fire and some conversation till sleep set in their eyes.

Children were grown, an adventure of their own,

A mother, a father, in a home now alone,

Their once was a man whom loved all that he had.

Keith Garrett