FACES OF CLOWNS'


 Disguises are worn, they hide a world of fear,


 Hidden with colors' of false smiles or frozen 
 Frowns.

 We laugh and we dance, juggle our thoughts' and
 Emotions,

 Our world Is a cage, a circus of freaks' and 
 Entertainment.

 We challenge our own mortality, on a high wire 
 We dance,

 Shot through a cannon to where we may land,
 Life in hand.

 Faces of clowns', dressed In costumes, they 
 seem secure,

 Acts put on for children, are they not the young 
 Whom have tears?

 We dress In our own costumes, put on a face that 
 We choose,

 Is what appears' real only a magicians' magic, a trick 
 Of sorts?

 Whatever expression we wear, whatever makeup we're 
 Made of,

 Faces of clowns', we all live with faces of clowns'.


               Keith Garrett                                                        

                  THE HONEYMOONERS


 Ralph Kramden, pins and needles, needles and pins, 
 It's a happy man who grins

 Did Ralph ever really grin, a bus driver cranky enough.


 Schemes and ideas, nothing ever worked out, always
 A shout,

 Always a general in his fantasy world, did Alice 
 Ever win?

 "Bang! zoom! to the moon with you" Alice giving him 
 The look,

 She the faithful wife of this man always with a plan.


 "Hey there Ralphie boy" says his goofy pal, Ed Norton,


 Ralph is always irritated with Norton, loveable Ed.


 A cranky bus driver and a happy, wacky sewer worker,


 Two wives whom take care of the home and their nutty 
 Husbands,

 The honeymooners, with the stars of four, gone forever.

            Keith Garrett

                MANY FEELINGS' OF SPRING


 As slowly the days' get longer and the cold 
 Travels away,

 A change of seasons' comes Into our day.


 Out comes the sun as earlier It shines,


 The blooming of flowers enters our minds.


 No more frost or the freezing of night,


 The song of the birds, a tune that Is nice.


 The shadows appear but much later In the day,


 Darkness does not visit, away longer It stays.


 On the trees and shrubs, new growth will appear,


 It's time to awake fore Springtime Is here.


 On the mountains, the snow melts Into water 
 Running down,

 Wild life returns, we hear many a sound.

 Look around to what this time brings,

 The things that we see, tell us this Is Spring.

                 Keith Garrett

                        WATCHER OF THE SEA


  High above the water, overlooking the ocean,



 Built above the rocks standing tall under the sky.



 With Its' eyes of light so bright watching 
 For those,


 Guiding who might approach these shores, looking.



 For so many years It sees, watches, and waits,



 As from across the horizon travelers make their way.



 Watcher of the sea keeping your eye on what Is 
 All around thee,


 Whether the light of day or the dark of night, 
 You watch.
 

 Trusted by many are you, counted on for safety,


 You are the watcher of the sea, lonely as It may be.

                      Keith Garrett

                                                          UNSEEN



I'm all around, sometimes I'll go away,

 In the morning a visit, maybe at the end of 
 Your day.



 I've been known to whisper or at times a scream,


 I push through the trees, perhaps awake you
 From a dream.

 I may go very fast or swirl around,




  Everywhere Is where I am bound.



 Since the beginning of time, from then I was born,



 Always will I be here with an unseen form.


                  Keith Garrett

                                                                                          IN MY DREAMS

 Asleep in the night, I was talking on the phone,


 My conversation switched from brother, voice 
 Of mother,

 In my dreams that familiar cough heard as she 
 Did speak.

 Angry was her tone, just a blur as a dream is 
 Only a dream,

 A computer disguised as a television, appears 
 As a game.

 Pieces surround like a chemistry lab, my mother 
 On the screen,

 In my dreams she is as a professor with bright, 
 White hair.

 A mystery it is about dreams and what they may 
 Tell you,

 In my dreams she may exist from time to time, in 
 My mind.

 The reality of it all is that mom has gone away, 
 She did not stay,

 We hold her in our hearts and pray for her 
 in a heavenly place.
                        Keith Garrett

                                                                          GREEK GOD OF THE SKY


 It rests way up high, giant in the dark of night,



 So far away, when was it formed, millions of 
 Years from today.


 Beyond the stars, spinning in outer space, thirteen 
 Rings around its face,


 Father of the sky, seventh planet from the sun, 
 Will you ever perish and go away?

 You go by a name known to all from the beginning of
 Man, Uranus be your name,


 Quite strange as you spin forever tilted on your side, 
 A collision be the reason why.


 You orbit with others of names which have been formed 
 So many human lifetimes ago,


 Beyond the Earth, space is a place of much mystery,  
 Just as you hold a mystery of your own.

                Keith Garrett

                                                      REFLECTIONS'


 Like the sunlight on a clear window, my 
 Image appears,

 Thoughts of yesterday bring a picture of 
 You to my heart.

 Wandering back to you Is a place In my 
 Dreams at night,

 Of the past It Is a part of you, live do you 
 In a piece of my today.

 On lakes and rivers, oceans and wet ground 
 After a storm,

 Reflections of a kind or memories brought 
 To our minds.

 Wishing, wondering what might have been,


 Backwards In time to watch has gone by, time.


 Mirrors are looked Into and looking back are the
 Faces,
 Reflections of another kind, thoughts that we find.


 Images of all kinds, like being children somewhere  


 Back In our minds.

               Keith Garrett 

                                                                                  A SAILOR

 A sailor talks of far away lands and the ports 
 Where he would like to be,
 He relates to all in a salty drawl, his love 
 For the roll of the sea.

 Let's hear him boast of powers so great, let's 
 Hear of his deeds so bold,

 Let's hear him tell of seas of hell, and the 
 Treasures he's bought and sold.

 Let's hear his yarn of the south sea Isles, his 
 Romance on balis shores,

 Or the girl he had with eyes so sad, in the 
 Land of the sliding doors.

 And let me tell you what you never hear, of 
 The loneliness that tortures his soul,

 When the sun's last light gives into night, 
 he's a dreamer, not a sailor so bold.

 Yes, a sailor dreams when the sun goes down, and 
 The wind lies slack on the sea,

 Of the heavenly bliss of a woman's kiss, and the 
 Home where he longs to be.

 There, a lamp burns low thru the lonely night, there 
 A heart waits patiently,

 Their tears are shed as a prayer is said for a sailor 
 Who dreams at sea.

 To live his past let no man wish for, there is 
 More than the tales he told,

 Though his laugh is long and his heart is strong,
 Inside he Wrestles his soul.
               Leon Russell Garrett

                                                                                       LEPRECHAUN

 A small, mischievous Elf, dressed in green attire,


 Belts of black, boots perhaps of the same color.


 From Irish Folklore, It has been said they have been


 Seen roaming the Irish countryside, these wee folk.


 Members of a clan, they invaded Ireland, banished to 
 Live underground,

 Standing only two to three feet tall, these devious
 Characters.

 Quick witted, intelligent, they evade capture from 
 Humans,

 They live in underground caves with entrances or a 
 Hollow trunk of a fairy tree.

 It is said that wishes of three have been granted 
 To some who leave them be,

 They are known for their love of Irish music and dance, 
 Instruments played.

 Tin Whistle, the fiddle, Bodhran, and the Irish harp, 
 A look with beards and pipes,

 Shoemakers they are, believed because of all 
 The dance they do.

 To catch one of the wee folk is nearly impossible as 
 They are smart with magical powers,

 Vanish into thin air they can, a pot of gold 
 Is a most possible dream.

 You'll hear an Irish Leprechaun before 
 You'll ever see one,

 They have a fondness for drinking Irish Poitin, 
 Catch one if you can.



                  Happy ST. Patricks Day,

                      Keith Garrett