A light shade of gray evenly covering that which lives below,

Clouds so heavy and thick with moisture ready to rain down.

In the early evening as the sun fades many shades of color,

After dark on a clear, stary night you can see forever high.

Big, white fluffy clouds of many shapes sitting still above your head,

With the wind you’ll see their shapes change and drift slowly away.

Thunder and lightening visit a dark, stormy day, the sun is there,

Hiding beyond the blanket of nature, the sun still shines without sight.

An always changing sky, never the same throughout any given day,

The sky is always there, it is the elements that move through and change it.

Keith Garrett


Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

It’s never to late to open your eyes,

To say a thank you, too show a smile.

It’s never to late to listen with your ears,

Of words said that are needed to be heard.

It’s never to late to be less selfish of a man,

Or too show your love to that special one if you can.

It’s never to late to give of yourself,

Unless there’s no room for change in you and that’s sad.

It’s never to late to try and also do,

Grow as a man and be strong as a rock for yourself.

And those whom love and count on you.

Keith Garrett

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Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

The sky is always night somewhere in our world,

Does it dream as it sleeps there where it rests.?

Awake as it does to the morning sunlight,

In another place it goes to bed again for the night.

There are friends all around this wide open space

That watch over each other in its universe.

Does the sky dream,? always as it exists,

What would it say if to us it spoke.?

Keith Garrett

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Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

Blood of a man spills from a wound created,

From a wonderful heart runs blood unseen.

Broken will be our spirits by those we trust,

These are the words of men with no morality.

Promises are made with the slip of a tongue,

Easily spoken from minds without thought.

Hearts and souls, those with no dreams,

They take what they can, from their hands they squeeze.

Promises, promises, words with no character,

From those with no heart, broken, always broken.

Keith Garrett

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Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

As children, friends were we always hanging out,In the park throwing a football, playing frisbee.

We were like most kids never worrying about the future,

We spent many Summers playing in the sun, running into the years.

There was a bench we would sit on after running around, made of wood,

Laughing and telling jokes, we were the best of friends until the sun set.

My friend went away, life moved on beyond those days, older we became,

As fate would have it we again found one another through the mysteries of life.

The magic of childhood goes away but i believe a piece of it is always there,

We walked and talked, back to the park too where we laughed, we sat on the same bench.

Keith Garrett

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He lives up high, he watches from the sky,

Listen as he speaks with words foreign to me.

We met him one day as down he swooped,

A drink of water and a bit of bread, he flew.

Grouchy with a touch of blue, his name be “Jack”

A whistle to the wind, he appears from wherever he’ been.

Watching, always watching,” Jack” is now a friend,

With the morning light he can be heard, before the stroke of six.

The little birds gather for food but watch for him they do,

He torpedoes down to terrorize them, makes them go away.

Back he comes with a look from side to side as he grabs the biggest

Piece and “Jack” just flies away.

He sits on the wood, he takes a bath,

He wants it all, a grouchy blue bird by the name of ” Jack”

The sun is falling, off to bed in the sky,

He’ll be back in the morning, fly Jack, fly.

Keith Garrett