VOICES


 Around us, we hear those who speak,
 Words and phrases to others' who will hear.


 So many different tones from mouths each day,
 Softly spoken or In a deep, mean way.


 Talking a lot Is a way for some,
 Fast and unclear Is another way too.


 We hear many voices as we spend our day,
 Talking about their lives and crying about 
 Their pain.

 Voices are heard singing songs,
 Which makes us happy and brings our emotions 
 Outside.

 On the phone, there are voices, to us spoken words,
 We can't even see them but still they are heard.


 Without voices, we will not be heard,
 If we are not heard, then there Is silence.


         Keith Garrett  

                                                                                      
            FACES IN THE WATER


 By myself as I am sitting beneath the warm, 
 Rising sun,

 There exists a slight, cool, morning breeze 
 Around me.

 Watch I do as the tall, dancing, trees stand 
 High above,

 Rays from the sun, shine through the branches 
 Of leaves.

 What surrounds me this day is taken for granted 
 Beauty,

 The quiet is an always wanted gift that will never 
 Go away.

 The calm pond water rests around me while I think 
 And dream,

 When I look down to find my reflection, I see not me 
 But that of other days.

 My thoughts take me to yesterday, far, far, away, 
 As if it were today,

 The water is quite still now, like clear, shiny, 
 Glass, I drift off like a dream.


 Faces in the water, clearly I can see with memories, 
 Faces in the water,

 Days of old, friends scattered with time are seen 
 Floating in the sun.
                            Keith Garrett

                  FIRE STORM


 Like a tornado it appears suddenly, out of 
 Nowhere it attacks,

 Burning heat that rages on a path of destruction   
 Without remorse.

 Visible fire, a monster that with its touch can make 
 Life disappear,

 With the help of natural wind this creation man made 
 Or not, builds strength.

 It consumes without fear, tireless, always hungry as 
 It makes its way anywhere,

 Smoke fills the sky, dark, thick, smoke travels upward 
 Into the atmosphere.

 The birds fly, watch as the animals run with great fear
 Through the hills of flame,


 Survival is the only game being played today, the losers 
 Will forever go away.

 Fire storm, Destroys does it a piece of our beautiful 
 World with every attack,

 Sometimes forever gone, healing of the land takes  
 So long, scars are never gone.
                     Keith Garrett.

               I CAN SEE TOMORROW!


 So clear to me, clear to see,


 Yesterday Is gone, gone away.


 Today will soon be In the past,


 It will be yesterday, I see this today.


 Tomorrow Is not yet here, this Is clear,


 When It comes It will turn Into today,


 Soon disappear Into yesterday.


 I can see tomorrow, I see this today,


 Many things' to discover, what comes my way.


 What's out on the horizon still a mystery,


 It moves forward Into my life, to be my today.


                      Keith Garrett

                    FLOATING


 I stand not on the ground but from where I am I 
 I can not stand,

 From so far In the sky, I fly, fly without wings, 
 Within the clouds.

 There's no feeling above me as below, no solid ground
 To touch,

 Living things' of few roam this land, large as It seems 
 Never ending.

 Down, down so fast but a feeling of weightlessness as 
 If a feather,

 Falling, falling from where I flew, where once this 
 Man stood.

 Closer and closer I can with my eyes see life waiting 
 For me,

 Back to where I once stood, down from where I once stood.


 For only minutes but what seems like forever a dream,


 Floating, merely floating down, back to my reality.


                        Keith Garrett

                 A SMALL HOUSE


 Along the banks of a river, is home,


 Apple trees and hills of grass live here.


 A small house for a family of people,


 Food on the table and a fire burning warm.


 Sitting on the porch, a fiddle in hand I am,


 A pipe to smoke is an evening kind of thing.


 Horses are down for the night, children in our sight,


 Nineteenth century life is quite a fight.


 A small house is all we need to believe,


 Hopes and dreams are seen as far as our eyes can see.

              Keith Garrett

                                                                                                     
               A PLACE TO DREAM


 Away from here, far, far away I disappear,


                                                                                
 Possibilities await me, they're only there.


 Covered hills of grass so green, just you and me,


 Beautiful trees, the warm, colorful, sun between.


 A place to dream where the wind can be seen,


 Where the sky can be touched, a place too dream.


 A tune to my ears, that which soothes a soul,


 A song in my heart, one that speaks words of you.


 Hopes and wishes, fantasies or dreams,


 Is there such a place for these, a place to dream.


              Keith Garrett

                 JUST PASSING THROUGH


 A man searching for something, always searching,


 He travels through the desert, a town in his sight.


 On a horse he rides, the sun upon his back,


 Dressed in western clothing of the time.


 What he wants is a bed for the night,


 A warm meal that satisfies, a bath much needed.


 He heads for the saloon, a drink in his thoughts,


 Sit down for a game of cards with faces of a town.


 Just passing through, a man and his horse,


 Both bedded down for the night,


 When the sun rises, his search will continue.

            Keith Garrett

          I DREAMED I WAS A COWBOY


 Dressed in jeans, a black hat and boots,


 On a horse of beautiful color, I rode.


 A ranch up high in Colorado, I dreamed,


 Working, putting up fences with cowboys.


 A long day was a good day for me,


 Up in the dark, before the roosters.


 Breakfast was early, earn your money,


 Sweat and a little fun, working in the sun.


 I dreamed I was a cowboy, riding the open land,


 The dreaming cowboy, is a hard working man.

             Keith Garrett

              HE TOLD ME OF HIS LIFE

 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