Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

Beware on this night as you stroll along,

It’s cold and dark, the screeching cry echoes.

Through the hills, into the misty night woods,

He’s out there under a full moon angrily searching.

If you see his shadow beyond the trees,

Then run, as fast and far fore it may be too late.

The smell of your fear lingers in the air,

His thirst for the blood, for the flesh most wanted.

The howling under the moon will be a life saving clue,

Your path is studied, your only escape is behind locked doors.

Your only safety may be the rising sun as dawn approaches,

On this moon risen night he becomes the beast.

He feels no remorse, no heart to be found,

Under a full moon he stalks the living.

He is a killer in the moonlight,

Under a full moon he is not kind.

Keith Garrett

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Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

He’s coming back, each year during the Fall he awakens,

Travels here from some place far away, a demon is he.

Wings spread wide from side to side, feet and hands like claws,

A face of fear, eyes wide open and bright red, teeth ready to eat.

He wears a disguise of black coat and a hat that covers his face,

Silent through the night, he lives in the corn field, he waits.

Watches in silence, those bright red eyes moving from side to side,

Tonight there are two who wander through the corn field for home,

They see a scarecrow, curious as they approach this strange sight.

Horror on their faces, through their hearts and minds fear races,

His hat is raised and his face shown to them, hands and feet exposed.

Try to run do these two, he swoops upon them flying high into the night,

Wings spread…

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Tonight is the night, when the spirits of the dead may return to earth,

For just one night, imagine they are all around us, those we love, family.

Friends whom once use to be but now spirits, ghosts, they dwell in a heavenly state,

Tonight they travel from where it is that heaven exists, we await their arrival.

As this day moves along their trip is taken, this is a party, a Halloween ball tonight,

To the living this amazingly large congregation of visitors will not be noticed.

As we celebrate or choose not to believe or celebrate, these passed on spirits

Walk and wander among us in search of loved ones and to see what once was.

Their time is but a brief moment, midnight, the stroke of twelve takes them away,

Throughout the night think of them as you are in their sight, all Hallows’ Eve.

As i miss a father now forty five Halloweens gone, the same night he left he returns,

The night is not feared any longer, sadness does not follow me into this night.

There are those whom do not believe as i now believe, a smile to my heart,

As i let go of my pain, tonight he will stay for awhile, a smile i will not see.

His presence will be felt all around me, peace tonight, we both are alright.

Keith Garrett


Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

My mother sent me here to live for the Fall with my Aunt Louise,

I do not know her very well but she was always strange and mysterious.

Blind since i was about five years old i can’t recall what she looks like,

A huge castle of stone, in our family for centuries through times of war.

Old England, now surrounded by many new things of the modern age,

In this castle are antiques from a different time in this world, old weapons.

Dungeons and secret rooms are here, stories told to me by my grandfather,

Very quiet here as i spend my time listening to the wind and leaves falling.

Off to bed, upstairs where the walls are thick with tales from the past,

Tonight will be dark but for me every night holds darkness as i am blind.

Awaken do i to some Eerie sounds from within the…

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Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

Were you ever afraid when you were taken to the circus,

Out of the corner of their eye they watched as you watched.

Did you think they were funny when they rode those bikes,

Running around doing crazy things to entertain ” the children”.

This October there is a clown, he mixes within the crowds, this clown,

He searches for you, he doesn’t play or do tricks as once seen under a tent.

He remembers you watching him many years ago, he hasn’t forgotten “you”,

Older are you now but the magic has been forgotten, this clown has different faces.

He follows you through the streets without a smile, a laugh, or even a tear in his eye,

No balloons of colors while he stalks a once small child whom can’t anymore see the clown.

This clown of different faces walks among us, he has scattered beyond that old tent,

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