THE WORLD BE A POEM

From sunrise until sunset pictures sit and stand everywhere,

Words are seen from our minds that form beautiful descriptions.

A painting seen each day from different views, always changing,

The sun shining in morning light, glow from a changing moon in the night.

The stars shining far up high, on a clear, still, Fall night,

Mountains that have stood throughout time, they change as we change.

A boat ride across a lake on a warm, Summer night, something to write,

When Winter visits, a sleigh ride through the snow, through the trees we go.

To stand on the wet sandy shore staring out at the ocean is of pleasure more,

From the waterfalls to rivers, deserts or forests, pages of stories told with a pen.

The world be a poem, if never written then never be it told, write it before it’s gone.

Keith Garrett

ELLEN DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

I think of how she liked to run through the field of flowers,

A smile so bright, as if not a care in her world, memories.

We swam in the lake, laughing under the hot Summer sun,

Walking to school on cool, Fall mornings, playing along the way.

She went away, such a sad day as my friend went far away,

I still see her running through that field with her smile so bright.

If I listen on quiet nights I hear her splashing in the water, her laugh,

I walk to school in the morning wondering if she is by my side or near,

I get tears because Ellen doesn’t live here anymore.

Keith Garrett

THANKSGIVING WITH A STRANGER

November was here, colder than usual compared to many others,

This was to be a snow filled holiday but it’s Thanksgiving again.

Today will also have an unexpected visitor not yet discovered,

From a great distance, this traveler will trek to change some lives.

Morning is here, it’s very cold as we all gather downstairs for coffee,

We send the kids out to get some wood to build a nice, warm fire.

It gets busy early with everyone preparing for this special day,

A stranger makes his way, while we take some things for granted

A lesson of importance we’ll all learn, a stranger on the way.

Walking the streets, a story to tell as the snow and cold are no friend,

A next meal, shelter over one’s head, with every step a friend is close.

Within the warmth of this home, a day of thanks and love, out the window,

A soul I did see, walking slowly under the snowing sky, that could be me.

Invited in was this person with no place to be, an identity to be seen,

A story was told, appreciated what we did not see, Thanksgiving with a stranger.

Keith Garrett

THE VIGILANTE

A peaceful man, calm was he with a smile so bright,

Until they took his wife then his daughter’s life.

His world was turned inside out, nothing will be the same,

His name is known within the business world, the nights are his.

A man who did have a family, now he takes the lives of them who take,

His life is much different now, days of a regular citizen, nights of vengeance.

He now lives within himself, with the pain he inflicts upon the evil that brings pain,

He is the vigilante, a good man who had enough of bad people in a crazy world.

Keith Garrett

“SENSES”

Within us, there are things that make us feel and communicate,

They are sensitive but powerful to the human function.

Necessary are these but not threatening to the survival of one’s being,

They give us the ability to seek out and experience the wonders of the world.

The sense of smell gives us the ability to distinguish between fragrances,

To like or dislike what is in the air.

To see is to have the chance of being able to personally witness in color,

Or black and white pictures of the world remembered by your own mind.

Amazing is to hear fore it is the sense of many musical sounds,

To the ears the knowledge of whom or what is near you.

Now the sense of taste is a great and remarkable experience for all,

Eating foods and enjoying drinks, the word flavor means what to your mouth.

Touch or feel can be an incredible and exciting pleasure to enjoy,

It is the sense that man and woman may share together.

Keith Garrett

OLD FRIENDS

Come to your mind at different times,

They rest in memories, thought of in a moment.

Some are here, closer than you know,

Scattered like the wind, they are everywhere.

Those we may find, lucky to have them around,

We find that they have changed in so many ways.

Hold onto yesterday and the faces of our friends,

Once in awhile a surprise from a voice never thought would be.

Old friends, ghosts in the traveling wind, do they live?

Are they around the corner, do they pass you by without notice?

Wherever you may be just know that I think of you,

As for you, I may never be a thought again as you move ahead,

Old friends can be the best, old friends may they be at rest.

Keith Garrett

AT THE TOP OF THE HILL

From where I stand it seems so high,

My struggles to climb up near the sky.

To get up there at the top of the hill,

Will take my energy, also my will.

Scrapes and bruises are a part of my quest,

Where I’d like to get for my life to be the best.

Slip I might or stumble along the way,

Giving up is not part of my game.

When I get there at the top of the hill,

Accomplished my fight for the thing I did want.

Keith Garrett