More than once, he visited me in my sleep, taunting.

I would be alone in a dark house, awake, and peek out the window.

Always windy in this dream, I can see him in the distance.

Face hidden behind a black robe that blows in the wind.

He knows that I am inside; he can feel my fear as I hide.

It appears that we are the only two in this world, following me.

He is there, always knowing where I am, getting closer.

Is this a dream as I awake in the darkness? I am alone.

I peek out the window to make sure he is not there.

Within the dark wind, in a black robe, he is always there.

Keith Garrett

Every one hundred years, on the thirty-first of October,

They come, they come without care, they bring fear.

From another universe these things travel; they’ll be here.

For just one night, this night, they seek the human ones.

You’ll find them dressed in black robes with long, sharp poles.

Faces of big, round eyes that bulge out; very well can they see.

Noses long, as their sense of smell is quite strong, hide for this night.

Teeth jagged and a bit separated, work so well for their midnight eating.

Can you guess what those sharp poles are for? Don’t let them find you.

They like to eat; they’ll capture and collect for slaves, take you far away.

If you’re so unfortunate as to be seen, then you’ll get to meet them and see.

They’ll be coming for us on this century-old anniversary, ugly and mean.

Keith Garrett

He’s coming back; each year during the fall, he awakens.

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

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 black coat and a hat that covers his face.

Silent through the night, he lives in the cornfield; he waits.

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

Tonight there are two who wander through the cornfield 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 wide, with his prey disappears, back by morning’s light.

Keith Garrett

When I went to bed last night, everything was just fine’

So tired was I as sleep came upon me in such a hurry.

Something woke me during the night; this wasn’t my bed.

This wasn’t any bed; I was on a floor of cold and hard.

Am I awake? I sure hope not; as I look around, I see only walls.

Brick above, nothing in here but me and some water in a glass.

What is this place? Why have I been brought here? By whom or what?

I think it’s light now; I can see everything, a solid brick room of emptiness.

No sounds, nothing to see; I’m very afraid of what’s in store for me.

The longer I’m in here, the bigger I feel; it must be the feel of being locked up.

Another night, and now I’m freaking out with panic; this room seems to

Be closing in.

I swear it’s getting smaller, or I’ve grown; no one comes, this is some

Kind of hell.

No food, water is gone, the room is getting smaller! How can this be! Help me!

I’m disappearing with this room; where am I! Can you hear me? We hear you,

Goodbye!

Keith Garrett

WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRY BLAKE? Keith Garrett

He drove to the mountains, to Stoney Woods,

He wanted to run, to get away from his life.

To a big house where he would not be bothered

Or found by the outside world.

Stormy weather was approaching as he headed up the mountain,

If he hurried, then he could make it before it hit.

Alone he would be as he pulled up to this big house

That stood all alone among tall trees,

He got his things and went inside where dusty furniture sat in the dark.

It was cold, but there was a big, old fireplace.

Harry gathered some wood and started a nice fire

That kept this creepy place lit for the night,

Harry didn’t know it, but someone or something was there watching.

Alone on the 31st of October, Halloween in Stoney Woods,

It was late, the fire fading, sleep took him away.

At morning’s light, Harry was gone; where did he go?

On October 31st every year the fire burns in a dark house.

Up on a mountain in Stoney Woods you can hear the echoing

Voice of Harry Blake, never seen again.

               WHAT MY EYES SEE

My eyes see differently than once a child did see,

Reality of all that’s around, a world of recognized sounds.

What my eyes see are not the coloring books and cartoons,

Not the exploring of our neighborhood and childish ways.

Not the magical world from a young boy’s eyes lost with time,

What my eyes see is a different kind of beauty and some Insanity.

This world has changed along with the changes in me,

What my eyes see are so many things which I never dreamed.

                     Keith Garrett

             UNDER THE BRIDGE

It’s a bad path you take when under the bridge you go,

Let there be no slip or fall; it’ll be the end of you.

He’s so ugly and mean, a shade of green,

Hungers for the flesh, a taste he seeks.

His teeth so sharp, a foul smell to his breath,

Eyes like saucers, horns on his head.

Hands so big, his nails razor sharp,

Feet of a monster, toes that curl up.

A sound he makes, so disgusting to the ear,

It will make your skin crawl; out comes the fear.

Bones all around as he’s eaten many who cross his ground,

Under the bridge, this horrible troll lives.

                                Keith Garrett

         HE HAS A NAME OF FEAR

At one time I’m sure he was a little boy,

Scared by demons of his early world.

The sound of his name brings chills of fright,

To children everywhere as he haunts their life.

Watch out!, Watch out!, for the boogey man,

He may be hiding under your bed if he can.

In the dark of your closet, he may be watching you,

Keep your feet in the bed, keep your closet closed.

The boogeyman strikes on a dark lonely street,

In shadows of the night, behind a standing tree.

Keep your blankets to your eyes, your curtains closed,

When you shut out your lights, will he be standing in your room?

Look out for the man, he has a name of fear,

He’ll scare you to death, the boogeyman is near.

            Keith Garrett

        SHADOWS OF FRIGHT

They appear as they are while I lay in my bed at night,

The light from the moon shines through my window.

Spiders crawl up and down the walls; my eyes follow,

Images of snakes on the ceiling above slither along.

Bats with fangs, their shadows I do see,

Flying on by, I have fear through the night.

Vampires with a thirst for blood are a haunting sight,

What do I see but only a silhouette of a monster?

Creatures of the night, shadows of fright,

Mummies and werewolves out on an Autumn night.

Frankenstein wanders, but it’s only a shadow to me,

A vision of that which is horror you see.

A glimpse of a witch on a broom flying high,

The stroke of midnight, a shadow across the sky.

              Keith Garrett 

      BAD  THINGS

I am everywhere and all the time,

Sometimes maybe a nightmare for you, a violent crime.

A car accident of horror, families’ loss of life,

A plane crash in the ocean on an October night.

I am a house on fire, a tragedy of fright,

Murder in the woods or a lightning strike.

Anger and bad thoughts are what I’m about,

You can’t hide from me because I am all around,

Bad things with two legs, bad things without sound.

I’m always on the news, I have a story to tell,

I’m a fight in the park, a lost soul never found.

Trick or treat on a Halloween night,

A knock on a door, bad things you might find.

        Keith Garrett