I can see in your eyes, oh! Butterfly, how is it you fly,

Colors of bright fly in the sky, Spring is your moment,

The warm season sets you free, you belong to no one.

Butterfly in the sky, you travel a great distance, floating,

Do you know who I am as you drift on by, peering into my eyes,

You are a butterfly, small and quiet, not long is your life.

Dare to fly, disappear before the night time, where do you fly,

I saw into your eyes as you did see mine, more than a butterfly,

Fly Butterfly, fly beyond the night to where one day everything meets.

Keith Garrett



How is it possible to change the world,

Can one man get it started, where to begin?

Do a favor of unselfishness and ask that in return

This person do three favors,

Two more favors of you must be accomplished to start.

It is that someone first did a kindness for you,

They then asked of you to do these three things.

Favors of three may be quite a sacrifice indeed,

A price this may be that you pay in many a way.

A person, just one to take a chance is possible,

If each that have been given this gift does in return

Pass it on then it will never stop.

The world would be as one family, In other words,


Keith Garrett



She ran with the wind but the wind could not chase her,

The clouds moved swiftly as she ran from the clouds,

Racing the morning light, she beat the sun going down.

Chasing the day, she waited until the day was done,

She ran as far as heaven, beyond the sun, run, run, run.

She was named Angel, Magic as she could not be outdone,

Strong with spirit and heart, never giving up, in the end, she won.

Keith Garrett



I was walking down the road, the moon full of glow,

Late into the night, on my face something of a fright,

In the distance forever was waiting for me, I can see,

Where I was going such a long journey beneath my feet.

I saw where I had come from, where it was I had been,

I left behind many a friend, far from here and then.

The road has been long, splits and turns to everywhere,

I carry my burdens upon my shoulders, leave them in the end.

Keith Garrett





I remember you, Mr. Parsons, from such a long time ago,

You woke to a morning, nineteen seventy eight is when I met you.

A young man with a smirk on your face, a walk to school you go,

Skatefactory and parties on many weekend nights, your teenage life.

I have been told you did frequent friends church at one time,

The love of music, I heard you did sing Beth as a youngster,

That Popeye’s imitation of yours was not too bad with a laugh.

I remember you well in the afternoon of your life, some good times,

We were roommates, you, my brother, and I, we worked side by side.

Many adventures from city to city, in the heat and rain we traveled each day,

So many stories were told, memories of days in a town, Placentia.

Robbie, friend of ours, there was happiness and laughter, that was real,

At one time it was you who did join the Air Force,

What later darkness and torment hovered within your soul?

It’s late afternoon, the sun is going down, where went your smile,

Darkness falls upon the land, God has come and taken hold of your hand,

Do not fear as pain and sorrow are no more here, you have gone away.

In heaven may your smile be always bright, no pain beyond life,

Listen to your music, sing your favorite song, eternity is all yours.

Rest in peace, friend,

Keith Garrett



As he sat down in his rocking chair he began to speak,

With a smile, he invited me to sit and went about his story.

His life as a child at the beginning of a war for Independence,

On a farm in South Carolina, he lived with a father, brothers, sisters.

He went on to tell of adventures in the Summer just before it happened,

A big house, great times with family, working the farm each day was tiring.

He must have been about ninety years old now, the war and those days long gone,

A childhood recalled, swimming in the pond with a friend or two, the night’s moon.

He told me of this war being all around them, nothing would be the same, much change,

Tears in his eyes as he described that time and place where brothers and family died.

He sits in his chair today, many years away from there, he lives in that house today,

He sits in his chair on that porch where as a child he played, he told me of his life.

Keith Garrett



You have it in you, stories to be told,

It’s in your heart and soul, young or old.

Whatever it may be from the sky to the sea,

Thoughts from your mind, life, and times.

Write the poem, write about today,

Yesterday is gone, words about the sun going down,

Write the poem.

Keith Garrett




To be left alone, loneliness has its price, kills tonight,

Leave him in peace, no second chance for you will be.

His life is a dance from day to day, killer all the way,

For the money, a job well done never is this for fun.

You woke the demon when you killed his dog, stole his car,

Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone, now you’re done,

Killer with a heart, a look upon his face, simply leave him be.

Keith Garrett




What was it like many generations ago exploring a new frontier,

Starting a life where everything was so uncertain and dangerous.

Indians and bandits roaming the land trying to everyday survive,

The Indians living off the land, bandits taking all they can.

Building towns where a man or family can start a business for themselves,

Settling outside this town you choose to live and start a family of love.

You’ll have to rough it for a while longer as you have for so long now,

Waking to the morning light, at times cold as a hot cup of coffee will do.

Working hard from sunup till sundown with a dream in your heart,

A cabin with a fireplace, rooms built for comfort, a roof over your head.

The old west was more than a saloon with gambling, drinking, and gunfights,

It was about survival, the discovery of new places, and things accomplished back in a time.

Hardship and disease, many died, gave their lives for a better life, triumph and sorrow,

These people from the past paved the way for dreams and success here in our today.

The pioneers had more struggles than can be imagined, but also had to be tough and strong,

The old west is no longer alive but they did leave their mark, a path across the wilderness.

They survive and live in those today who overcome and succeed, worked through their pain,

The western world has changed, but the blood and souls from the past are buried, their spirits

May be among us in ways as they are also surely gone off beyond this world where peace is theirs.

Keith Garrett





Sit back and listen as I tell you this tale of an outlaw,

As a child, his future was uncertain as both mother and father were killed.

Hungry with no one to turn too he begged for food,

Slept wherever might be shelter, survived as a thief.

As he grew he then met those who lived as he lived,

Without skills of his own, he set out on a stolen horse.

He now was a thief and an outlaw, listen further,

With a gun, he did not own, he now robbed from those who did not steal.

Finally, he faced one who did not wish to give,

Murder was now his ultimate crime.

Hunted down by a sheriff and a posse, he was then caught,

Because he could not travel a road of good,

He now layed in the dirty street, dead.

Keith Garrett