UNDER THE BRIDGE

It’s a bad path you take when under the bridge you go,

Let there be no slip or fall; it’ll be the end of you.

He’s so ugly and mean, a shade of green,

Hungers for the flesh, a taste he seeks.

His teeth so sharp, a foul smell to his breath,

Eyes like saucers, horns on his head.

Hands so big, his nails razor sharp,

Feet of a monster, toes that curl up.

A sound he makes, so disgusting to the ear,

It will make your skin crawl; out comes the fear.

Bones all around as he’s eaten many who cross his ground,

Under the bridge, this horrible troll lives.

                                Keith Garrett

         HE HAS A NAME OF FEAR

At one time I’m sure he was a little boy,

Scared by demons of his early world.

The sound of his name brings chills of fright,

To children everywhere as he haunts their life.

Watch out!, Watch out!, for the boogey man,

He may be hiding under your bed if he can.

In the dark of your closet, he may be watching you,

Keep your feet in the bed, keep your closet closed.

The boogeyman strikes on a dark lonely street,

In shadows of the night, behind a standing tree.

Keep your blankets to your eyes, your curtains closed,

When you shut out your lights, will he be standing in your room?

Look out for the man, he has a name of fear,

He’ll scare you to death, the boogeyman is near.

            Keith Garrett

        SHADOWS OF FRIGHT

They appear as they are while I lay in my bed at night,

The light from the moon shines through my window.

Spiders crawl up and down the walls; my eyes follow,

Images of snakes on the ceiling above slither along.

Bats with fangs, their shadows I do see,

Flying on by, I have fear through the night.

Vampires with a thirst for blood are a haunting sight,

What do I see but only a silhouette of a monster?

Creatures of the night, shadows of fright,

Mummies and werewolves out on an Autumn night.

Frankenstein wanders, but it’s only a shadow to me,

A vision of that which is horror you see.

A glimpse of a witch on a broom flying high,

The stroke of midnight, a shadow across the sky.

              Keith Garrett 

      BAD  THINGS

I am everywhere and all the time,

Sometimes maybe a nightmare for you, a violent crime.

A car accident of horror, families’ loss of life,

A plane crash in the ocean on an October night.

I am a house on fire, a tragedy of fright,

Murder in the woods or a lightning strike.

Anger and bad thoughts are what I’m about,

You can’t hide from me because I am all around,

Bad things with two legs, bad things without sound.

I’m always on the news, I have a story to tell,

I’m a fight in the park, a lost soul never found.

Trick or treat on a Halloween night,

A knock on a door, bad things you might find.

        Keith Garrett 

                CATS  EYES

Does it have nine lives, cats’ eyes,

On All Hallows’ Eve, a black cat hides and watches.

With eyes all a glow, it stalks you,

Legend has it that on this night, stay from its path.

Cursed with evil from a feline’s contact,

Strolls in silence through this dark October night.

With an angry hiss, teeth shown with a warning,

Strike it will, suddenly with speed, claws upon you.

Cat’s eyes under a full moon, you’ll maybe find,

Swiftly disappears into a windy Fall night.

               Keith Garrett

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           DREAM STATE

I know I’m lying here alive, half dead,

Horror and fantasy fill my head, never to stop.

I’m chased through the woods by a man with no face,

Hatchet in his hand for all eternity.

Always a different story, pictures in my mind,

I can’t wake up, I don’t know why.

Pushed from a rooftop on a never-ending fall,

About to hit the ground, monsters reach for the sky.

Up the stairs they walk me, I see the hangman’s noose,

Around my neck, the noose tightens as I drop in fear.

Demons that fly chase me from the sky,

Wicked sounds they make as I scream in the night.

Am I in a coma or bad dreams from my bed,

Could I be in hell, am I really dead?

My dream state does not end, a living hell,

In a cage full of snakes as psychotic souls laugh with delight.

Is this only but a dream state? Keith Garrett

           PIECES OF TIME

Our time as humans, animals, anything living loses time,

All created things age with time; there are many quotes about time.

Time does get older, but never does it go away, never backwards,

A clock, a watch, the ancient sundial that watched our day pass,

An hourglass of sand, those which remind us always of our time.

Pieces of time, a memory thought of with long lost friends, older now,

Pictures on a mantle, photographs and picture albums, dust -covered.

Antiques, old relics lost with time, discovered within aging places,

Pieces of time, an old remembered house, friends that rest inside.

                                         Keith Garrett

      LISTEN TO THE DRUMBEAT 

Thump, thump, hear the sound that makes the world go around,

Feel the pounding of its rhythm, the drum beats hard, the heart beats fast.

Listen to the drumbeat that lives inside, listen to music, the drumbeat cries,

Boom, boom, echoes through the sky, thunder is the drum, it beats out loud.

Wait for the rumbling as the shaking earth trembles with an awesome fear,

Bang, bang, listen as the sleeping child’s heart comes to life in the dark of night.

Bombs and gunfire sing through the war-beaten land, thump, thump,

The drum beats slow, the drum beats fast, a mother’s terror as her son dies.

The dancing boxer, hard hit as he is dropped to the floor, beat of his heart,

Thump, thump, boom, boom, goes his heart like the drumbeat so slow.

Listen to the drumbeat, to the sound of wandering feet, like a drum,

A first breath of life, a slower and slower beat of the fading, going away.

                 Keith Garrett     

LITTLE HOUSE ON THE LAKE Keith Garrett

Down on the lake lives a very unusual little old man,

He lives in his little house that sits near the water.

He possesses a strange power and a hobby,

Dolls are his passion as he makes them every year for Halloween.

He chooses the faces of those that live here and of those who might pass on through,

He seems friendly enough as he works around his little house,

Goes into town with a smile and a hello.

He’s not known very well, but he likes it that way,

There’s something hidden behind this little old man’s show of pleasantry,

Evil and black magic is a game for him.

One night a year these little dolls with faces of many live,

They walk the night, these monsters of doom.

They hunt for the one whose face they now wear; they steal from them,

What is needed for themselves to become human.

They will no longer be a doll but not of good,

Each Halloween they become more and more.

Beware the little old man who lives in his little house on the lake.

            WELCOME TO GRANDMA'S

High upon a hill sits this house of darkness,

Hiding beyond hundred-year-old trees that sway in the wind.

To stumble upon it is a deadly thing, but to enter will be a
House of hell.
Out of gas in the dead of night, clouds cover the moon.

A group of friends with no idea what waits,

This house cannot be seen from below, as nothing else is around.

Their curiosity to walk up the path has no reason,

Fear of being stranded or of what may lie ahead.

Picture grandma dressed in clothes of comfort, an apron,

Her hair up in a bun, baking cookies, pies, and other treats.

There may be a warm hello at the door, but grandma has a surprise for you,

You’re staying the night, one hell of a night!

The door opens, and there’s an excited greeting for these poor stranded
Strangers,
She welcomes them and invites them to have dinner and stay the night.

What a night it will be; the wind is howling as a storm settles over this town,

After dinner, Grandma shows them to their rooms; there’s a warm fire glowing.

As everyone gets ready for bed and a stormy night,

An echo of a scream is heard through the darkened house.

Nothing to be found as all search around,

A light from the kitchen for those to see.

There stands the sweet old lady preparing tomorrow’s feast,

Through the rain-driven night, behind the thunder that hides the hellish screams.

It is she who is called Grandma, who smiles with delight,

No longer are they here at this old house; Grandma likes to feast on Halloween.

                  Keith Garrett