HALLOWEEN

That Eerie night when the moon is full and bright,

When darkness falls upon the land, they come out.

Magic and wicked spells are a fantasy or not,

When at the stroke of midnight a witch is seen

Flying on her broomstick across the moon.

A night when the wind howls and the trees seem to come to life,

Casting their shadows from the bewitching moonlight.

Monsters of evil again on this Halloween night.

Black cats lurk in the dark, listen for their sound,

Goblins and mummies, curses from the ground.

Until the stroke of twelve, all is not well,

Howling at the moon, a werewolf somewhere dwells,

Halloween, is it only Halloween?

              Keith Garrett

         I AM NOT A RICH MAN

            BUT RICH I AM

I do not own a home or a treasure chest of gold,

Stocks and bonds are few, diamonds are a little too.

I am not a rich man as calculated by statistics and daily man,

A special car or a vacation home does not show of my value,

I am not a rich man, estimated by paper money or material things.

But rich I am, if life is valued only, just a regular day,

These things are free, but of gold bars to me, listen to what
Makes a rich man.

If love is in your day, then rich you are most specially,

I can walk and see with my every day, I breathe freely, I’m okay.

A roof over my head, clothes on my back, never to bed am I hungry,

So much can cost money, beauty, staying healthy, a song you sing is free,

But rich I am, with that which is mine and my thoughts every way.

                                        Keith Garrett

        A SPELL ON THE 31ST

A lying man’s tongue just freshly hung,

The eyes of a murderer taken for fun.

Hands from a thief cut from his arms,

A foot of the dead, one found in the woods.

Head of a bat, hair from the wolf,\par

An evil soul dug up from its hole.

A thought from the wicked one who has not a conscience,

Into the pot the greed of anyone.

A piece of the cheating heart, those who hold,

One spoken word, a lie to the world.

All that is bad stirred into the pot,

A spell on the 31st will be cast after dark.

                      Keith Garrett

              WITHOUT A CONSCIENCE

He lurks in the darkness, within the shadows,

A gruesome figure of a man, quietly waiting.

He watches on an October night,

Stalking his prey till morning’s sunrise.

He kills with no warning, no fear or remorse,

Without a conscience, he’ll stop your heart.

On a windy, Fall night, leaves falling from the trees,

If the moon is full and bright, his shadow may be seen.

Without a conscience, he’ll take your life,

What kind of man walks in the darkness?

Seeking blood on a Halloween night?

Listen for the footsteps but stay in the light,

Don’t go out alone, not on this, his special night.

                    Keith Garrett

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          THE WARRIOR

Dressed for battle, he stands ready to fight, the warrior,

Fear lives within him for this emotion brings wisdom.

Strong, as he fights for that which he believes,

A lonely way of life but a man makes a choice, a stand.

A family, not in this soul’s plans, born to walk alone,

This chosen way, which may haunt, is just a house of cards.

It’s not said that he is a bad man; quietly, the sun rises for him,

This path chosen, a quiet one if those to let it be not a fight.

Always ready for battle, though silently lives in the shadows,

This wanting-to-be-left-in-peace man is a warrior on his own.

                Keith Garrett

      WHERE DID ALL THE PEOPLE GO?

Arrived in town on a cool, crisp Autumn day,

A man dressed as a man should, yet not a man.

Why was he here? No one would at this moment know as he smiled,

A face like all others, underneath something more.

If he chose your door, then his appearance would show much more,

As a man dressed so well, this demon from some sort of hell.

This time of year he feeds on the mortal being,

He might take you away to his land of fear.

Where did all the people go, now you know,

One by one they disappeared, one way or another on a cool,

Crisp Autumn day, they felt the fear.

               Keith Garrett 

I'M YOUR WICKED UNCLE ERNIE

Never can you see me; I’m certainly there always,

Watching as you do the things that you do, my nephew.

I’m everywhere and nowhere, in the shadows I lurk,

In the dark of night hiding close by, sometimes close enough to touch.

If you could see me you’d know there’s a very bad man that exists inside,

And one who is waiting and seeking you.

When bedtime comes near, and sleep falls upon you,

Under your bed or closet, I’ll make my hiding place.

Being blind is not a good thing for you, as I am here,

Unfortunately, your parents left me here to watch over you.

It’s Halloween night, and I’ll be handing out candy to all

Your little friends until this fun night ends.

We’ll be all alone, It’s just you and me in the dark,

Much fear you will soon learn about,

I’m your wicked uncle Ernie, and that’s what you’ll find out.

Keith Garrett

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