WHEN ONCE WE LAUGHED

Children were we back in a day, so far away,

We ran with the wind until the setting sun.

On Summer days we gathered with many games to play,

Time at the beach, swimming in the waves, walking in the sand.

We met there back when we were young, you had many names,

Nachos and Pizza sitting in the sand, we were something back then.

A skating rink, around and around we go, to songs we traveled,

Back when we were young, school dances and friends were fun.

When once we laughed so long ago, all the things we didn’t know,

So much energy and a life force, everything seemed forever to us.

Keith Garrett

                       ONE COP, ONE CRIMINAL, ONE LOST SOUL

Grew up as friends, running in the streets, something happened,

A child’s spirit destroyed by evil, time passes by in such a world.

Now roaming the streets as adults, different lives pass each other by,

Three men trying to make it in a society which shows no sympathy.

Anger roars as a criminal loses his precious daughter to violence,

The law cannot control a man who does not care about life anymore.

 Their stands a cop who was once friends with two men of difference,

Three lives would once again come together, a cop in the middle.

One lost soul would suffer for a crime he did not commit,

Disappears without a trace, the past takes away the present.

Keith 

               I AM SEVEN

I chase butterflies and try to get moths from vines,

Model airplanes are a hobby done with my dad,

A vegetable garden out back, chasing the Ice cream man.

Coloring books and cartoons on a Saturday morning is fine,

A favorite cereal, lucky charms, and Frosty’os a pop tart in my mind.

Watching the Little Rascals, the three stooges, other favorite shows,

Toaster pizzas, and a glass of milk on a T.V. tray, on a late Summer day.

Riding my bike, through sprinklers we ran in the sun, a day for fun,

I am seven as I would someday remember, walking in the breeze, climbing trees.

I go to school, walk as I dream, I am a child of nineteen sixty nine, I am me,

I run and play at recess with special friends whom I will soon never see again.

My world is different when I am seven, no worries of the future, only a child’s day,

There is a magical side to my life today, what will I remember of my time in a place.

                          Keith Garrett

       BETWEEN WHAT IS AND WHAT IS NOT

The universe exists all around us but do aliens really exist,

We can see the sun resting in the sky, no pot of gold over a rainbow.

Mountains formed, standing above so tall, not a bigfoot between the trees,

The moon is for us a reality, no face or a man lives up there alone.

Ireland and green grass are for real, across the sea they do appear,

Leprechauns I have never seen, four leaf clovers bring luck in a dream.

Castles of old stand on many lands, stories of them for centuries are told,

Magical spells, and fire breathing dragons, were they ever seen or felt.

Between what is and what is not are fables and tall tales handed down,

Fantasies, and all that is real live in our minds or before us we see.

                    Keith Garrett

          LORD OF KINGS

Rulers of many lands, they were different but greed the same,

Treasures valued beyond the real purpose of a living man.

Since the birth of man and the rising sun, war is never done,

Blood spilled with time, lies and guilt, death seems but a crime.

There are Kings who sit upon thrones of deceit and evil deeds,

I wonder If there ever was one who thought more about the common good?

The Lord of Kings Is a mysterious one, creator of all things great and kind,

Master of Earthly scenes, creator of the universe, that which men build and destroy.

                        Keith Garrett

       GREEK GOD OF THE SKY

It rests way up high, giant in the dark of night,

So far away, when was it formed, millions of years from today.

Beyond the stars, spinning in outer space, thirteen rings around its face,

Father of the sky, seventh planet from the sun, will you ever perish and go away?

You go by a name known to all from the beginning of man, Uranus be your name,

Quite strange as you spin forever tilted on your side, a collision be the reason why.

You orbit with others of names which have been formed so many human lifetimes ago,

Beyond the Earth, space is a place of much mystery just as you hold a mystery of your own.

                    Keith Garrett

             BLUE JEANS

Antique in time, from the seventies, a pair so fine,

I remember I put them away, blue Jeans for another day.

A touch faded were they, comfortable in a certain way,

Worn were they to a party, perhaps a barbecue or two,

A Saturday night drive-in, what jeans were worn by you?

Blue jeans I took from a shelf, dusty, aged from time,

They fit me once before, now I can wear them in my mind.

                      Keith Garrett

        JUST PASSING THROUGH

A man searching for something, always searching,

He travels through the desert, a town in his sight.

On a horse he rides, the sun upon his back,

Dressed in western clothing of the time.

What he wants is a bed for the night,

A warm meal that satisfies, a bath much needed.

He heads for the saloon, a drink in his thoughts,

Sit down for a game of cards with faces of a town.

Just passing through, a man and his horse,

Both bedded down for the night,

When the sun rises, his search will continue.

                 Keith Garrett

A small, mischievous elf, dressed in green attire,

Boots of black, boots perhaps of the same color.

From Irish folklore, it has been said they have been

Seen roaming the Irish countryside, these wee folk.

Members of a clan, they invaded Ireland, banished

To live underground, standing only two to three feet

Tall, these devious characters,

Quick-witted, intelligent, they evade capture from

Humans.

They live in underground caves with entrances,

Or a hollow trunk of a fairy tree,

It is said that wishes of three have been granted to some

That leaves them be.

They are known for their love of Irish music and dance,

Instruments played,

The whistle, the fiddle, Bodhran, and the Irish harp,

A look with beards and pipes.

Shoemakers they are, believed because of all the

Dance they do,

To catch one of the wee folk is nearly impossible

As they are smart with magical powers.

Vanish into thin air they can, a pot of gold is

A most possible dream,

You’ll hear an Irish Leprechaun before you’ll

Ever see one,

They have a fondness for drinking Irish Poitin,

Catch one if you can.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

Keith Garrett

   HEY! HEY! THEY WERE THE MONKEES

Hey! hey! they were the Monkees, used to be here but where did they go?

Way back in the sixties they had their own T.V. show.

They were all pretty silly and funny, an odd bunch wouldn’t you say,

People still love to watch them, oh! yes to this very day.

Davey was English, a short sort of a lad,

A voice made for singing, banging the Tambourine that he had.

Peter was like Harpo, quiet but funny,

A piece of the puzzle to make them as one.

Mike played his guitar and could really sing,

Somewhat as the leader to all four he would bring.

Mickey was funny, had a voice, and could play the guitar,

Back in the past, maybe a pop star,

Mickey Dolenz, Davey Jones, Mike Nesmith, Peter Tork.

               Keith Garrett