100 YEARS FROM TODAY

100 YEARS FROM TODAY

Yesterday, what we see as hundreds of years ago is gone,

History it is to us, read about in books of long lost times.

The days are always moving along, we do take for granted the morning,

The setting sun is a most spectacular sight, heading into the night.

Here where we stand may still be standing, another will be standing,

100 years from today the world that we know will have much changed.

Just as we wonder what life was like back in a time of cowboys and pioneers,

Tomorrow’s people will also wonder and read about our time and place.

100 years from today we will be a part of history, others will be amazed,

Just as we are amazed and dream of those times when the world appeared to be a dream.

Keith Garrett

 

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HE STANDS IN THE COLD

HE STANDS IN THE COLD

Winter arrives, time for a visit from the man of snow,

When the cold wind blows and the temperature falls,

A storm will call him, down he comes to stand in the cold.

He does not speak, he will not move,

For just a short time, he stands in the snow.

Dressed up is he, on his head a black hat,

A scarf of color around his neck, a pipe in his mouth.

A nose of black and eyes of dark,

He’ll soon go away, visits again on a Winter day.

Keith Garrett

 

THERE’S A PLACE

THERE’S A PLACE

Follow the road underneath a falling snow,

Beyond the trees, the hills, there’s a place I know.

Peaceful to the ear, musical sounds of Winter,

Trickles of water dripping down, Ice covered lake.

The sky is full of snowflakes soon touching the ground,

Nature all around, it makes its own sound.

Trees covered in white, there are no stars this night,

The only thing of light is a fire made among the frigid night.

There’s a place to hold in my thoughts, my place,

It’s far from here, so if you follow the road under a falling snow,

Then maybe you can call it your own.

Keith Garrett

MYTHICAL GHOSTS

MYTHICAL GHOSTS
Keith Garrett
In our minds do they live, exist only in our dreams,

Gaze out into the night, beyond the stars in the dark.

Remember as a child you would put a tooth under your pillow,

As you slept a fairy would visit and replace it with riches.

Mother nature we do not see as a mortal but live within her,

She is known by all with the changing seasons of time.

As you drift off into slumber it is he whom watches over,

A man whom possesses a dreaming sand for a believer.

Grants does he the gift of love so fine from an arrow,

Only Imagine this ghost fore he is forever cupid.

He’s as old as the universe, he’s of the beginning,

He knows of life, the name is father time.

A cold sort of spirit, he exists from a myth,

When the freeze of night comes, lives does Jack Frost.

Eggs in a basket, colored and decorated for a child,

Jelly beans and treats from an Easter bunny not seen.

Last but not least, a jolly old man with a beard so white,

He gives to the world on Christmas eve, Santa Claus.

 

HE HAD A DREAM

HE HAD A DREAM

He use to be, he walked as a man,

Growing up as a child, harder than one could have imagined.

With strength and courage he stood for the fight,

So many against him as he marched for what’s right.

At times so scary to speak what you believe,

Most just complain, Oh! not he.

It took a demon, the devil in disguise,

To take from him what he told from inside.

He was once a boy but grew to become a man,

To tell of his cause as he walked with the people hand, in hand.

His name was Martin Luther King,

He was not forgotten because of an ignorant mans bullets ring.

He had a dream,

He was a man,

His dream is alive. Keith Garrett

WINTER FABLES

WINTER FABLES

Santa Claus lives at the North Pole,

A wishing Childs fantasy comes real.

Father time has no physical sight,

Numbers on a clock, our aging life.

Mother nature has a face, different each day,

She can appear most ugly or beautiful on that certain day.

Jack Frost is cold hearted, he appears in places of chill,

He does not seem like you and I, many forms and in many ways.

Winter fables, perhaps Imaginations of some,

Dreams of a season, Fantasy and cold.

Keith Garrett

GHOSTS CAN TALK

GHOSTS CAN TALK

Most of this world never truly believes that life ends not here,

Death may not be a misery that we all wait to endure.

We are surrounded, if indeed you do not believe in this,

There are those and many long ago spirits which wander alone.

Most of us are not enough in thought or listening to hear ghosts talk,

Heaven is there but why are they everywhere? Ghosts can talk, they walk.

We want to believe that we are never ending, fear that we are not forever,

Odd things happen, strange sounds in the night, misplaced or lost items,

They speak in ways we can not ever dream, watch us as we slumber in the night.

GHOSTS CAN TALK

Keith Garrett