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 wide, with his prey disappears, back by mornings light.

Keith Garrett



Standing along a River bank within years of trees,

This house so old has been for more than a century.

It has a story, secrets that remain inside its stone walls,

Built to withstand wars, survive the test of time.

Windows there are of many, windows that eyes have looked through,

Eyes that no longer see, lost in this house for eternity.

There are rooms that can not speak fore if they could, horrible screams,

Those whom have slept here never awaken from their peaceful dreams.

This house is not haunted as none of the dead have ever stayed,

It sits here quietly as all who have entered never go away.

Keith Garrett



I am not a hero, fore what have I done,

I was not a soldier, did not die with my gun.

I was not a police officer, protecting the streets,

Never a surgeon, saving lives while I did sleep.

I am not a hero as I worked from sun until sun,

I raised my children, never giving up so I won.

I saved never a life, I only saved my own,

I did never great things, I kept safe only my home.

I am not a hero, not a medal of honor or recognized for special deeds,

I am only me, doing everything to be all that I can be.

Keith Garrett



Listen to it, can you hear the wind through the trees,?

The falling leaves, branches scratching against the windows.

Laying in my bed slowly drifting off to sleep, the sounds are here,

It’s dark in my room, only the light from the moon shines through.

The window I close as it is growing cold, drifting clouds bring in the gloom,

With my head on my pillow, blankets so warm, thoughts are alive.

Whispering, is it my imagination, was I in a dream state, I could only hope,

I heard it again, I thought it was the blowing wind against the trees.

It started, voices upon voices speaking to me as the wind sounds,

Help me! it hurts! let me in!, the words I can’t breathe won’t let me sleep.

Why is it that these voices are listened to by my ears, nervous with fear,

What do they want, why don’t they leave me alone in my harmless home.?

Voices in the wind, is it me or are there really voices in the wind.?

Keith Garrett



There’s a town that sits down below, at peace most of the time,

Family and friends, life goes on as not a soul speaks of a curse.

It seems forgotten, blocked from their minds until Fall arrives,

The days grow shorter and the hills above darken earlier with shadows.

Many leafless trees, the wind howls through that which is alive,

When a certain October night appears make sure you’re not outside.

Not sure why this town doesn’t die, each year a nightmare comes to life,

When the hills are alive on an October night, a town disappears a little from fright.

What’s out there that roams `from high in the night, the horror is felt at many bed sides,

Doors are locked, windows bolted down, be there at home when the light says good night,

When the hills are alive for just one night, pray hard and be quiet until morning’s light.

Keith Garrett



On a blustery, cold, evening in early Fall as darkness comes early

And we were having dinner i thought I heard some laughter,

Everyones backs were to the window except for mine.

I thought I saw something, an image of a man, I’m not sure,

There was a cold shiver up and down my spine but why.?

My family was settling in for the night, for me not this night,

I don’t know why i didn’t say anything or why I felt this way.

Out the window I decided to peek and there he was standing in the yard,

The little man, a long beard, dressed in a black robe with a cane in his hand.

He knows i’m there, he smiles and disappears, he wants something,

No longer do I feel the fear as soon he will surely reappear.

The little man comes again, standing in the darkness, in the wind,

He motions me to come with him, I can’t resist as he takes my hand.

The little man takes me away, he is not of this world, never am i seen again.

Keith Garrett



It’s still daylight, I walk to school on this Halloween,

A breezy day, leaves falling from trees, empty streets.

There is an uneasy feeling inside me, like something waits,

A car passed by, only a stare, what bothered me not there.

I saw him from a distance, standing with a face unseen,

In a moment he was gone, a scene from an eerie dream.

I saw him again, twice before the sun went down, evil around,

My friends and I were naive, we laughed at Halloween, didn’t believe,

I see him in my dreams just as I once saw him as a child, he is real.

I see him. Keith Garrett